A breathtakingly beautiful tale about a determined cat, his idiosyncratic animal companions, and the devastating effects of a catastrophic flood on an alien world
For a short-ish animated feature that has zero dialogue, Flow is wildly entertaining. It follows a young black cat as his quiet world gets subsumed by a flood of biblical proportions. He manages to escape on a rickety sailboat that manages to pick up other animal straggler survivors, including a stiff and rigid secretary bird, a can't-be-arsed capybara, and a greedy lemur—all while avoiding the barking and chaotic pack of dogs on a rival boat.
I know, I know. This sounds silly and saccharine. I'm not one for animated movies generally or animal adventure tales specifically, but Flow is different. Granted, I'm a nautical obsessed cat-lover, so that may explain a lot. But this movie is adorable, visually stunning, and makes you think without really any exposition at all. It's quite a feat, and I'm honestly in love with it a little bit.
Who is this cat?
Our protagonist is a scruffy little black cat who spends his days romping around the forest near his home, which contains dozens of hand-carved cat statues. It's unclear if his owner is alive, dead, or missing—but something seems off, especially when the flood comes. Our cat is all cat, from his constant low meows to his slicked-back ear planes when he's scared. He's vulnerable in so many ways, not the least of which being his world invaded by ever-rising water—every cat's nightmare. But animals, even cats, are much more resourceful than we give them credit for. So yes, he learns to swim, to interact with a lemur, even steer a boat. Seriously. But more on that later.
The achingly beautiful world they inhabit
Even though it's not billed as such, this movie is essentially a mystery. What caused this flood of epic proportions? Where's the cat's owner? Why are there no humans escaping the flood? What's that dragon thing?
On the animals' voyage sailing through the diluvian world, one wonder if it's even Earth—it could be a million years in the past, or a million in the future. It could be an entirely alien world! As they sail through the remains of (presumably) human civilization, you can get really lost in your reverie.
The colorful, meditative animation makes every scene absolutely serene and gorgeous. It's like playing a cozy Nintendo Switch game for 90 minutes. It reminded me, even, of playing Stray, a recent puzzle video game where you play as an orange cat that's trying to escape a cyberpunk city inhabited by robots.
Animal fantasy that's refreshing and not cloying
Here's the thing: If this was a Disney movie, I probably wouldn't watch it. No shade to Disney movies, they're just not my thing at this point in my life (though I did love Coco). But having the animal characters be wordless makes them somehow more real, if that makes sense. They're still fantastical, in that they know how to get on boats and then take turns at the rudder, but not ridiculously so. There's no crab with a Jamaican accent singing "Kiss the Girl." And yet you're never left wondering what's happening and you're never bored.
Part of the film's success stems from how expressive the animals are—Flow excels at depicting wide-eyed terror to bemused stubbornness. It's a bit hard to explain exactly how compulsively watchable this movie is, but I assure you that it's true. There are parts where you're so worried about this little black cat that's it like if Homeward Bound was directed by the Safdie brothers.
But it's worth it.
Also, there's an amazingly wholesome trend of pets watching along with their owners right now. This is also true, I can confirm. Here's my cat, Goose, intently watching:
Baseline Score: 9/10.
POSTED BY: Haley Zapal, NoaF contributor and lawyer-turned-copywriter living in Atlanta, Georgia. A co-host of Hugo Award-winning podcast Hugo, Girl!, she posts on Instagram as @cestlahaley. She loves nautical fiction, growing corn and giving them pun names like Timothee Chalamaize, and thinking about fried chicken.
