Flow

An incredibly beautiful film. Goosebumps. Tears. A unique concept, without words but with dialogue. With sounds and music that make your heart beat faster.

For the first time ever, I sat and couldn't get up when the credits started rolling. I had to focus on them for a moment to see who made this magic happen, and to blink away emotions from my eyes. Even the team's dogs are mentioned in the credits. And then suddenly, a surprise - another scene after the credits!

Now I feel like reading everything that I can find about the film, getting stills as my desktop and phone wallpaper, and have just ordered their Cat t-shirt.

This is a masterpiece that I can't wait to see again!

"Flow," the latest work from Latvian director Gints Zilbalodis, is one of those rare films that transcends the need for dialogue and speaks directly to the soul. With stunning visuals and a narrative that radiates humanity in a world devoid of humans, the movie is a testament to cinema's power to tell universal stories.

The plot follows a black cat, a solitary survivor on a post-human planet seemingly healing from humanity's scars. The feline's journey is both physical and symbolic: it must leave the safety of its island-marked by decayed monuments and submerged ruins-and embark on a voyage of collaboration and self-discovery. Watching the cat navigate this journey is a meditative and visually hypnotic experience, with Zilbalodis delivering sequences that oscillate between tranquil introspection and genuine tension.

One of the film's greatest strengths lies in its stylized animation. Unlike the hyper-realism often seen in Hollywood productions, "Flow" embraces a visual style that blends natural elements with graphic artistry. The interplay of light with the textures of water, foliage, and animal fur creates an effect that is simultaneously dreamlike and visceral. This approach immerses the audience in the film's world without feeling like a forced simulation of reality. Each scene feels like a living painting, meticulously composed yet retaining a sense of spontaneous wonder.

Narratively, the film adopts a simplicity reminiscent of a classic fable. The central metaphor-the need to abandon ego in favor of collectivity-is subtly woven throughout the story. As other animals join the cat on its boat, such as the sleepy capybara, the optimistic Labrador, and the restless lemur, the journey transforms into an exploration of coexistence. Each character is animated to reflect their unique traits, from the cat's sharp curiosity to the imposing bird's commanding presence. Their interactions-whether delicate gestures like sharing food or moments of conflict-form the emotional core of the story.

"Flow" takes a bold step by opting for a dialogue-free narrative, a choice that, for the most part, enhances the cinematic experience. While this approach may slightly soften the emotional intensity in certain scenes, it underscores the universality of the story and lets the visuals take center stage. The film's symbolism, such as the recurring image of the animals' reflections on the water, is both striking and accessible, offering straightforward interpretations while inviting deeper exploration of its layers.

The score, composed by Zilbalodis in collaboration with Rihards Zalupe, is another standout element. Minimalist and atmospheric, it perfectly complements the film's richly detailed soundscape. The sporadic use of music, rather than constant accompaniment, heightens the impact of silence, creating an immersive and meditative experience.

Ultimately, "Flow" is a meditation on our connection to the natural world and to one another. Without words, it conveys the importance of seeing ourselves as part of something greater, accepting that our impact on the world is shaped by how we interact with it and those around us. As we face an uncertain future filled with climate crises and existential challenges, "Flow" offers a hopeful message: life persists, adapting and flowing like a river carving new paths among the stones.

This is a film that demands patience and contemplation, but it generously rewards those who allow themselves to be carried by its current. It's a work not just to be watched but to be felt-one that reflects the best of what we are capable of as humans.

... because there is no explanation of what is happening whatsoever. There is no narration. The animals do not talk and there are no human characters. All you know is what you see for yourself. It's like a silent film in that regard - You must pay attention to the entire thing.

A cat lives alone in a world devoid of humans. There are signs of past civilization all around - entire cities, amphitheaters, statues, and even a huge statue of a cat that looks like an idol. The cat lives in a house that has the signs of past human habitation all around - there are drawings and models that indicate that whoever lived in the cat's house built the cat statues and was planning to build more.

But then a flood comes one day and the waters rise so high that practically everything is underwater. In this situation a boat comes along and the cat finds himself adrift in that boat with a capybara, a lemur, a dog, and a secretary bird. The boat really isn't adrift though, as all of the animals know how to steer the boat.

One of the more unique things about it is that the creators had the brilliant idea to set the anthropomorphization for the non-human characters to about 25%, instead of the usual 75-100% where the characters might as well be humans in animal costumes. The characters' behaviors in Flow feel entirely natural for their species -- It's just that their intelligence has been enhanced enough to allow them greater self-reflection and interspecies communication. It's all a very refreshing take versus Disney and Pixar films.

This world the film inhabits seems to be a post-human one, but I wonder. My read is that at some point shortly before the events of the film, humans became animals. The human owner of the sculptor's cottage didn't disappear. The cat is the sculptor. Also note how, before the flood, the cat wanders during the day, but at night comes home to the sculptor's house and sleeps in a human bed - the kind of thing that humans do. But that's my take. You decide.

The world today isn't exactly something that gives you hope for the future.

This movie is about a time when humans are (seemingly) gone. So in that way, it doesn't really give you hope either.

But...

Earth isn't just humans. It's full of animals that sometimes just live together in some sort of harmony. Granted. This movie makes it seem like it's so easy for them to live together across species. That part is somewhat silly. But the movie is done in a way that the animals are somewhat humanized. And the way they interact together gives me a bit of hope for earth. Not humans. Earth will be fine. As for humans, that remains to be seen.

But this movie is a small wonder that will make you smile and enjoy about 1½ hour of happiness.

With not a word uttered, time flies by as you witness this rollercoaster of an adventure. Unexpectedly, this was a very moving, emotional and engaging film.

The world of the story is similar to ours but it is devoid of humans. The Cat leads a happy life in what looks like a forest house, when the world is swept up by a gigantic flood. What follows is the tale of fighting against extreme odds as the Cat learns to rely on others for survival and to grow to care about his unlikely companions.

Masterful story telling and character development meet profound empathy and clear themes, this film is for everyone. Moving and uplifting. Absolutely loved it!