Flow
by K G Kline
Bless the beasts and the children. Give them comfort from the storm.
It's rare that I name an animated film as the year's best movie. The last time that happened was in 2013 when I claimed that Frozen was the year's best film (and I still do). Up against this year's top films, like Sing Sing and Ghostlight, I wasn't expecting it to happen this year. I didn't see Flow coming. Flow has blindsided me.
Flow is Latvia's entry into the Academy Award competition for Best Foreign Film, which means it's getting limited screenings around the country. If it hadn't been submitted for an Academy Award it's likely we would never have seen this gem at all. Even now it's going to be a hard film to catch.
Flow features a cast of animals who have collectively suffered a catastrophe. Their world has been inundated by floodwater that rose so fast, within minutes they are climbing to the tops of trees and mountains to escape the rising water. The film is told through the experiences of a small black cat - Flow's central character. The cat was living a comfortable life in an empty home, sleeping on a large bed, and exploring the countryside at leisure. In the span of a few minutes its life and world are totally devastated before our eyes. The cat's pleading eyes, and desperate cries are among this year's best performances.
This is the point where I should mention that there are no Humans in Flow. The exact setting of the film is unclear, though there are hints it may be Thailand or Cambodia. We see deserted dwellings and ancient ruins amid towering narrow mountains typical of SE Asia. Key to the scenery is the water. The water is so crucial it becomes a character itself, sometimes threatening the animals, sometimes supporting them. Water is the film's closest thing to a narrative.
Eventually the cat is rescued by a small sailboat. At first, the boat's only occupant is a lethargic Capybara, but as they sail through the devastated landscape the pair are eventually joined by a playful Golden Retriever, a materialistic Ring-Tailed Lemur, and a proud Secretary Bird.
Unlike "Watership Down" and other animal films, there is no dialog in Flow. The animals make the sounds of their species (actual animal recordings), and each species is near-perfectly depicted. Flow does not anthropomorphize. Small concessions are made, like allowing them to steer the boat, but these are forgivable in a film where the attention to animal behavior is so accurate it becomes magical.
That's not to say these characters are meant to be mere animals. Flow's story is an odyssey of Human faults and triumphs. Flow's cast does a better job of defining Humanity than any film this year. And that's the real point of Flow. You get from this film what you bring with you into the theater. It's a metaphysical allegory in which your own life experiences will determine how you interpret it.
Not a film for young children, Flow is filled with so many scenes of peril it will even send some teens to the lobby for fresh air. It's not an easy story to watch, even for adults.
Lodged somewhere between Coppola's Apocalypse Now, The Diary of Anne Frank, and Cormack Mc Carthy's The Road, Flow is a haunting, soul-searching exploration of Human nature that defies boundaries. It's a film that will stay with you for years to come. It may also be the year's best film.