Flow (2024) review

Dir. Gints Zilbalodis

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★★½

When dialog isn’t present in a movie, our other senses become heightened. We lean in closer, paying more attention to mannerisms, settings, tone, and music. Throw animals into the mix and then we really can’t take our eyes off the screen.

Such is the case with Flow, a gorgeous picture absent of dialog. It reminded me of Robot Dreams, the deservedly acclaimed, Oscar-nominated animated film from 2023, which told a beautiful story of friendship, separation, and the uncertain path forward all without so much as a word being uttered. In the same vein as that work of art, Flow captivates us by keeping us transfixed on its animal characters and their interpersonal relationship to one another. However, this is not a cuddly picture despite the presence of some adorable animals.

Director Gints Zilbalodis plops us into the Latvian woods, where creatures of all creeds exist. Things start simply, with a pack of dogs chasing a small, dark gray cat. Suddenly, the kitty notes a pack of deer heading for the hills. Seconds later, a tidal waves mows down the trees and the rushing waters swallow everything in its path, the cat included. Our adorable little baby swims up to the only refuge they can find, a small wooden sailboat, occupied by a resourceful lemur and a lazy capybara. The dogs eventually return and a golden retriever climbs aboard in an attempt to be everyone’s friend. Finally, a secretarybird brings fish to the misfit pack, and dutifully watches for any overheard threats.

Where are the humans? Who the hell knows. Flow ostensibly exists in a post-human world, and perhaps that’s for the best. These animals lose the concept of predator and prey when they recognize the rising tides will kill them mercilessly.

Flow panders to your emotion. How could it not? Animals in peril is one of the most distressing things for most humans to witness. Most of us can watch movies about amoral and contemptible individuals and revel in their downfalls, or even their deaths. On the other hand, desperately few animals deserve the fates they actually get.

In the back of our minds, we think to ourselves that writers Zilbalodis and Matīss Kaža would spare the cat, the capybara, and others, but this is also the same duo that thrusts them into seemingly untenable situations. Even during the infrequent lulls, Flow feels rife with danger. During these quiet portions is when the animation really signs. If you’ve consumed a steady diet of American animated movies, where animals are furry and squishy, it might be initially jarring to see how plainly conceived the animals in Flow are. They’re almost featureless, which makes you focus on their eyes to discern emotion. This isn’t a flaw, but a mindful creative choice. It too allows for the bright, beaming backdrops and environments to draw our eyes.

The legion of animators valiantly challenge the medium by layering lighting techniques, shimmering illuminations, various textures, and shadows all contribute to a rare dimensionality. It’s quite beatific despite the fact that every element imaginable seems to want these animals to succumb to a torrid fate.

American animated films of this breed are so rare, it’s difficult to think of an adequate comp to Flow. The one that comes to mind is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, a picture brave enough to let animals be animals and not anthropomorphic creatures curated to move merchandise. The film is light, but not unsubstantial. Dreamy without being weightless, and the marriage of something sincere and surreal.

Directed by: Gints Zilbalodis.