Gints Zilbalodis | 1hr 25min
It is strongly implied in Flow that humans have long departed the Earth, yet there is hardly a note of melancholy or despair in this lyrical, wordless narrative. To the wild animals who roam its rainforests and mountains, our demise barely earns a passing thought, despite the remnants of crumbled civilisations which surround them. Nature has reclaimed that which we once stole from it, so even when a flash flood wreaks havoc on the land, still there remains a rousing beauty in life’s stubborn perseverance. The journey that one nameless black cat and its assorted companions set out on through gentle and treacherous waters makes for a simple narrative, yet within Flow’s hypnotic minimalism, the organic cycles of this ever-changing ecosystem fall into soothing harmony.
The immersive, fluid animation which Latvian director Gints Zilbalodis uses to compose this incredibly detailed world is made all the more impressive by the relatively small scale of his production. Starting with a tiny budget and relatively small crew, he decided to animate his film in Blender – a free, open-source computer graphics program that Pixar and DreamWorks would never even think of touching. Instead of using storyboards or concept art, Zilbalodis created expansive environments within the software and explored how his animal characters inhabited the space. Rather than aiming for the highly textured aesthetic of mainstream animations as well, he simulates naturalism through their graceful motions, watery environments, and of course that ever-moving virtual camera.
Above all else, it is this elegant navigation of such a gorgeously constructed world which elevates Flow. Zilbalodis’ camera is as free as we’ve ever seen in an animated film, borrowing a little from modern video games, but perhaps even more so from live-action directors such as Alejandro Iñárritu and Alfonso Cuarón. Long takes often last for several minutes at a time, following the cat in low-lying tracking shots through gardens and valleys, before seamlessly shifting into kinetic action scenes when it is chased by a playful Labrador and threatened by rising flood waters. As the cat helplessly flails, we bob along with it, and when it eventually finds refuge on a boat with a capybara, we too sail with them over calm seas.
In the absence of spoken dialogue, Zilbalodis’ active camerawork allows even greater room for visual storytelling, observing the clashing personalities which emerge when new members join this makeshift Noah’s Ark. As the cat’s initial caution gives way to curiosity, the capybara establishes itself as the level-headed leader of the group, keeping a cool demeanour while the obsessive lemur picks a fight with the secretarybird for kicking its precious glass float overboard. These are no anthropomorphised Disney cartoons, but rather heightened illustrations of distinctive animal traits, with Zilbalodis even using their real-life counterparts to provide voicework. That said, the cooperation between these creatures suggests somewhat developed social behaviours, underscoring the interspecies symbiosis which ensures the long-term survival of any ecosystem.
Crucial to this equilibrium as well is its biodiversity, which Zilbalodis relishes in his vibrant animation. While marine life flourishes in the flood waters, land mammals and birds manoeuvre its obstacles, adapting their behaviours through trial and error. The differences between these creatures do not set them apart as adversaries though – in fact, the whale which initially saves the cat from drowning proves itself to be an ally on multiple occasions, and Zilbalodis finds vibrant splendour beneath the surface as colourful schools of fish revel in their rapidly expanding home.
Not much can touch the picturesque grace of the world above though, where simulated natural light from the sun, moon, and bright reflections of both bounce off rippling oceans. The golden glow of magic hour has rarely been recreated so exquisitely in animation too, silhouetting animals against magnificent, picturesque landscapes. While Zilbalodis’ character designs are highly stylised, it is astonishing just how naturalistically detailed their environment is, particularly in the clear blues, swampy greens, and inky blacks of the water. The more we explore it as well, the further Flow departs from any recognisable reality, verging on the surreal as the boat drifts through an ancient, half-submerged city, and makes its way towards a peculiar series of stone pillars leering over the horizon.
Hayao Miyazaki’s whimsical, ecological fantasies no doubt exert a significant influence here. The uncanny cat sculptures which litter the rainforest and the whale’s biological mutations suggest a distorted merging of spirituality and nature, and by the time we enter the cat’s first dream, Zilbalodis is explicitly binding both in an ethereal, otherworldly realm. There, menacing visions of the initial flash flood and an ominous, rotating circle of deer haunt the cat, trapping it in circumstances beyond its control. Even more mystical though is the cat and secretarybird’s transcendent experience upon finally arriving at the stone pillars, where they begin to float among bubbles, colours, and stars in a boundless astral plane. Above, a golden portal beckons them into another world, and the sheer beauty of Zilbalodis’ animation makes the prospect of leaving one life for the next seem both immensely soothing and wistful.
After all, this new adventure is simply a part of those natural cycles which Flow underscores with exquisite grace, particularly when that flood which once altered the entire landscape rapidly drains away. Zilbalodis’ narrative is a closed loop, returning a sense of normality to the cat’s land-dwelling companions, yet with it comes a poignant recognition of the equal adversity delivered to those who previously prospered in the endless waters. There is no perfect state of being in nature, Flow illustrates with breath-taking wonder, besides that of a balanced ecosystem which resiliently oscillates between different phases. As we float and soar through a world in perpetual transition, our restless movements match it every step of the way, basking in the chaos which somehow – amazingly – nourishes both the earth and water from which life is born.
Flow is currently playing in cinemas.