Flow Review

Nature is a thing of sheer wonder and beauty. As we observe animals in their natural habitats, their sounds may seem like mere noise to us, as we have no way of fully understanding how they communicate. Animals don’t speak English, after all.

In Flow, we follow a cat as it goes about its day. A pack of dogs chases the cat, and a sudden look of fear appears on its face. After the chase, a herd of deer gallops across the field—only to be followed by a massive tsunami. Throughout the film, the cat is thrown together with an unlikely group: a dog, a lemur, a secretary bird, and a capybara. Together, they traverse this transformed world in a boat, struggling to stay alive.

As water engulfs the landscape, once-massive structures are reduced to insignificance, swallowed by the rising tide. The imagery feels almost biblical, making a comparison to Noah’s Ark inevitable. However, while the film evokes religious symbolism, its true focus is the environment—the struggle of these animals to survive in a world no longer suited to them. The rising water levels and their impact on nature draw a clear parallel to our current environmental crisis. Flow effectively demonstrates the devastating consequences of failing to care for our planet.

All of this is conveyed solely through visuals. Flow features no dialogue, and the animals remain true to their nature, each with its own distinct sounds and behaviors. This is particularly evident in the lemur, who becomes obsessed with collecting objects—especially a mirror aboard the boat. The absence of dialogue is a brilliant choice, as Flow masterfully tells its story through the animals’ mannerisms. A simple bark or head tilt is enough to suggest meaning, making it easy to imagine realistic dialogue. It is truly a wonder to behold.

Another marvel is the animation. The film is utterly breathtaking. While the animals are not photorealistic and have an early computer game aesthetic, they fit seamlessly into the world that has been created. The environment, in contrast, is highly detailed and naturalistic, making it feel rich and lived-in. One of the standout features of the animation is its use of reflections—from the cat’s face mirrored in the water to the lemur gazing at its own reflection. Each instance is mesmerizing.

However, Flow suffers from overstaying its welcome. The film feels long, and I grasped its message early on. While it wouldn’t be accurate to say the film is outright repetitive, I often felt as though I was watching something being reiterated. Over time, it lost some of its initial charm. This is unfortunate, as certain moments near the end are visually stunning and emotionally impactful, yet I found myself less invested than I was when the tsunami first struck.

While Flow may be biblical in concept, it tells a very real story that reflects the state of our world. It is a gorgeously animated and wholly unique film. Though I found it slightly too long, the journey it takes you on is still one worth experiencing.