Flow: An Adventure of Companionship in the Face of Adversity

The captivating and emotional storytelling of the Latvian animation Flow has touched children, environmentalists, and avid cat-lovers alike since its initial release in August of 2024. From the enchanting animation of the leafy overgrowth to the wonderful motion shots of surging waters, viewers are invited to feast their eyes upon strikingly beautiful animation, whilst the animals whose adventure we follow charm us with their unique characteristics, and blooming connections. The quiet beauty of the film captivated me, with its lack of dialogue not inhibiting the power of its message, but amplifying it. The animals are in no way anthropomorphised, a feature that many critics have commented on. The representation is truthful, whilst at the same time giving audiences the opportunity to relate to the attributes of these creatures.

Not one moment is wasted in the hour and a half running time; every exchange and action acts as a collaboration to put forth the messages this film sets out to suggest. The solitary black cat is our focal character, and this feline’s interactions of threat, generosity, or simply the formation of companionship, drive the storyline. We meet a carefree capybara, a materialistic lemur, an amiable canine, and a self-sacrificing bird, as well as other animals whose lives have been uprooted by the flood that engulfs the landscape.

The flood that forces these unlikely companions into a Life of Pi type of aquatic odyssey acts as a symbol of significant change. The disaster that submerges the habitats of these animals alters their lives in remarkable ways. Firstly, our solitary black cat becomes not-so solitary; we view its habitat, a human-built abode with many artistic depictions of our cat, from small drawings to a massive unfinished sculpture that we see climbed in an attempt to escape the rising tsunami of water. The loneliness of the cat is one of the most emotional aspects of the film, as well as its apprehension in trusting its shipmates. The cat seems to have found comfort in the solitude it keeps, after, we can assume, its human companion has been absent for a while. The film shows this cat’s apprehension and eventual acceptance in the formation of new connections, and perhaps a message of grief and the process of continuing with life after loss. The cat’s fear of change is shown by Zilbalodis through its fear of water, which is eventually faced and conquered.

The connections formed throughout the film are unique and unexpected, as the animals that learn to depend on each other for survival and companionship have so little in common. The characters of the dog, lemur, and bird, all separate from their natural groups, choosing authenticity and consideration over the physical similitude they share with their respective species. This is the film’s strongest message: that in the wake of tragedy, the unification with those different from us is integral, and the pursuit of genuinity should be attended to over the opinion of the majority. The starkly different characteristics of the animals seem to oppose each other at first, however the capybara-rescue scene near the close of the film suggests that the distinct strengths of the animals work – a testament to symbiotic relationships.

The recurring motif of mirrored images or reflections suggests the importance of the animals true identity in relation to each other. A hand-held mirror is placed in the centre of the boat the animals commandeer, and is a central image, with fascination surrounding it throughout, until it is broken by the rowdy and insensitive dog pack. The opening image of the cat staring at its reflection suggests that identity and loneliness will be a central message of the film, with a mirrored image at the end, of the remaining four animals staring at themselves, content with their newfound companionship. Their reflections next to each other really highlight their differences, but they are still unified.