'Flow' Review: A cat, a dog, and a capybara get into a boat...
Flow is a family movie. It’s a wordless Latvian-French-Belgian animated film that’s appropriate for all ages, but it’s also about families. At least, that’s my interpretation. As is often the case with my reviews, there will be some spoilers so I can discuss what makes this film special, but I’ll try to keep things vague. Word to the wise, there is a post-credits scene that I didn’t know about until after I saw the movie so be sure to stick around for it.
Director Gints Zilbalodis has intentionally left the interpretation of his movie up to the viewer. Many people have read climate change warnings into the massive flood that covers all that remains of what humans had built. Others see spiritual elements in the ruins reminiscent of Tibetan Temples and the way that a mysterious whale occasionally surfaces to nudge the animals along the right path. The most common reading is that this is a story about friendship and working together to overcome hardships.
In interviews all Zilbalodis has said is “It’s about this cat who was used to being independent and self-sufficient, and then after the flood...it has to learn how to work with and trust others.” He also highlights the relationship between the cat and the water. The seed that eventually grew into Flow was a hand-drawn short that Zilbalodis made in high school featuring his own pet cat overcoming his fear of water. Flow opens and closes with the cat looking at its reflection in the water, and it’s plain that the water acts as an indicator (or reflection- ha!) of the cat’s emotional state throughout the film.
Flow begins with a small black cat enjoying a tranquil life in a seemingly abandoned house. Humans never appear in the film, but traces of civilization are everywhere lending a dark fairy tale atmosphere to the environment. After a few scenes establishing what we should expect in terms of behavior from these animals, the world begins to flood massively and quickly. The cat makes its way onto a boat with a capybara at the helm.
Animals act more or less like animals in this film, although they can communicate somewhat across species. They also exhibit a more advanced form of reasoning than what real animals possess, but their movements and behaviors are extensions of actual animal behaviors. Cat owners will recognize signature feline moves- the pupils that dilate and retract with the cat’s excitement level, and the tendency to walk off in a huff when annoyed, for example. The expressive animation is neither overly cartoony nor photo-realistic allowing the characters to express just enough through body language and vocalizations to move the story along without degenerating into silly antics.
The cat and capybara eventually pick up an acquisitive lemur, a rambunctious Labrador retriever, and a stoic secretary bird. Each animal has a clear personality, and this is where it’s tempting to read the characters as symbolic. Much of what happens seems too intentional to not hold some meaning. Initially, I felt like this film must be saying something about the eternal flow of life, perhaps hinting at ideas of illusion, identity, and the cycles of birth and rebirth seen in Hinduism and Buddhism. But now I think it’s more personal than that.
Each animal seems to represent different stages on the path to maturity. Our little cat starts out timid, selfish, and suspicious of everyone and everything. During each step of the journey, some of the animals make things worse by being too impulsive, too attached to an object, or too inattentive to the world around them. On the other hand, one animal always does something to help the group pull through. Pay close attention to which animal is providing solutions, or showing kindness, and you see the cat gradually taking charge of their own fate and reaching out to help others in ways they never would have before. VAGUE SPOILERS BELOW PICTURE.
Not all of the animals make it through to the end, and these scenes of parting are the ones that imply a spiritual element. One sticks out like a sore thumb as very “magical” in the otherwise fairly grounded story of Flow. It’s a beautiful moment, but it doesn’t fit the tone of the rest of the film. Practically, I think the filmmaker needed a way for this animal to die without it being overwhelmingly sad for the audience. There’s a reading of the film where you could see this animal as a dying or aging parental figure, the great flood as the overwhelming grief that comes during that process, and the gradual maturing of the cat as the change one goes through to fill in the gaps that older family members leave behind. Learning to see that process as beautiful, or at least not traumatic, is perhaps part of the healing process.
In the end, Flow reminds me of 1988’s The Land Before Time, a childhood standard that inspired some quasi-existential thinking in my little kid brain. Though the voracious T-Rex and the death of Little Foot’s mother in The Land Before Time were far more intense than anything in this film. Whether you’re a cynical childless adult like me or seeing it with children in tow, this is a movie you can have long discussions about with each person taking away something different. There was a part of me that wanted a clearly defined cheerful ending for Flow, but that’s not really how life goes. This little cat has many more journeys ahead of them, only now they have friends to help along the way.