Our first introduction to Latvian film-making phenom Gints Zilbalodis was with his previous feature-length offering, Away. Not only were we enthralled and enchanted by the enigmatic animated adventure, we felt humbled and somewhat inadequate when faced with the sheer towering scale of Zilbalodis’ skills (he served as Away‘s director, writer, producer, animator and composer, and had only a few helping hands with Flow), and achievements at the time (seven short films to his name at 27 years old).
Flow takes inspiration from one of Zilbalodis’ earlier short works, Aqua, about a cat overcoming its fear of the ocean and scales it up to dazzling, screen-filling effect. The movie follows our feline purrtagonist as its post-apocalyptic forest world is suddenly submerged beneath an all-encompassing flood before hope appears, in the shape of a drifting sailboat.
However, it won’t all be smooth sailing for our feline adventurer, as the boat quickly gathers passengers on its journey. A capybara, Labrador, ring-tailed lemur and secretary bird form the rest of this unlikely quintet. Flow then becomes something of an unusual buddy movie as the animals learn to live with one another, overcome their differences and work together to survive.
As with Away, the entire experience is a wordless one, and Gilbalodis gives us nothing to work with beyond what we’re shown on screen. This makes the world of Flow truly wondrous, and the land its animal ensemble inhabits is magnificent and mysterious in equal measure.
Abandoned buildings make us wonder what this world was once like and who its inhabitants were, while massive stone pillars soar skywards and other-worldly multi-finned whales leap through the waters of the endless ocean, making us wonder just where we might be. The world of Flow is seemingly familiar, and yet infinitely alien all at the same time, and every moment feels nothing short of magical.
It’s a world filled with moments of sheer wonder, too. Where Away‘s visuals had a rough-edged charm, in Flow, Gilbalodis has refined his art and polished his animation to diamond brilliance. Flow‘s forests are rich and lush and feel dense and all-encompassing. Its vast waters feel overwhelming, its storms and waves primal and terrifying. Its skies are both bright and brilliant and dark and oppressive in equal measure. And its moments of stillness are like watching a painting come to life on the screen in front of you. Flow is a beautiful film to behold, all enhanced by Zilbalodis’ stirring soundtrack.
The stars of the show are, undoubtedly, the many creatures that inhabit the world of Flow, and the amount of character and personality they exude is unbelievable. Above all else, they feel so real. You sometimes forget you’re watching animation, so lifelike are their interactions with their world and each other.
There must be a but, however, and while we enjoyed Flow immensely, we emerged wishing we’d experienced a more coherent story, one with a greater sense of direction and purpose. Flow feels like it could possibly just be an animal adventure, but we can’t help but wonder if there’s more meaning to the movie. And then the film just ends, and you’re left holding all the questions and with not one single answer to work with.
But we can’t be mad at Zilbalodis because, as with Away, he has ensured you will not stop thinking about Flow long after the credits have rolled. Any film that lingers for so long has clearly done a lot of things very right, indeed. As mystifying as it is magnificent, Flow is a feast for the eyes and ears, food for thought, and a wonderful cinematic experience.
Flow will be released in cinemas on 21 March