Flow

Have you felt recently like the world as you know it has changed irreparably, everything around you is dangerous chaos, and those who were once family are no longer reliable so you have to kind of cobble together a new tribe or go it alone?

Cat knows your pain.

Gints Zilbalodis’s stunning animated film Flow follows the solitary feline through a lush world where it does what it can to remain aloof and alone—fleeing other creatures, particularly those rambunctious dogs, to find its quiet spot in the top floor of an empty home. The time period is unspecific but ancient, the attention to detail magnificent, and the animation breathtaking.

A flood is coming, and this little black cat will have to work in tandem with a handful of other strays—one capybara, a lemur, a secretarybird, and a dog—in an abandoned boat to survive the rising tide.

There’s no dialog and precious little anthropomorphism to be found. That may sound like it could keep an audience at arm’s length, but quite the opposite results. The surprisingly natural, primal behavior of the animals, particularly in peril, gives Flow an anguished kind of thrill that is gripping.

The animals have personalities in keeping with their species (the capybara can’t be bullied or bothered; the lemur collects and covets shiny things; the dog is big, dumb and friendly) and Zilbalodis gives over to magical realism sparingly.

The animals’ surroundings, even in moments of catastrophe, are rendered with such care and beauty they almost conjure Miyazaki. Almost. That Zilbalodis crafted such gorgeously animated scenes entirely with an open-source platform to keep budget in check is indie genius that would be only a gimmick were his storytelling instincts less stellar.

The dog doesn’t look great. I have no idea why that is, but it can pull you out of certain scenes.

Otherwise, there’s not much opportunity to slight this animated Latvian treasure sure to scoop up awards nominations this season. Catch it on the big screen while you can.