Flow is a completely dialogue-less emotional dive into guidance and the retribution of trust to wonderment. We follow a cat’s journey from the unknown into the unknown — swept through gorgeously painted backdrops, with music that drips into each scene, sending ripples of intentional sensation throughout the film. Through trial and perseverance, our cat learns that there’s more outside of their home than solitude. Whether through loss, remembrance, or humility, the audience bears witness to a quietly profound character arc — transforming a closed, self-reliant creature into a selfless, understanding friend.
Throughout the film, four other animals become fundamental to the cat’s ever-adapting life. Each one acts in the interest of the group — overcoming obstacles or simply lending a hand. The film shows us that no matter the difference or situation, a friend in need is a friend indeed. Yet what makes their bond even more profound is what surrounds them — or rather, what doesn’t. Not a single human is seen throughout the entire film. It’s safe to assume they’ve either found a way to leave Earth or died out long ago. Though subtle remnants of recent human presence linger in the background, the absence is never explained — leaving us to wonder if only animals have survived.
For much of the film’s first half, there’s a sense of an end goal guiding the journey — a destination waiting just within a rudders turn. Yet when that pivotal moment arrives, what unfolds feels deliberately mystifying. The pieces are all there, the emotional weight is undeniable, but the meaning is left just out of reach. I was left feeling lost — yet somehow comforted. The film grants us a moment to reflect as our cat ascends toward his final destination, while the secretary bird — carrying a heavy burden of shame — quietly withdraws from the flock without a goodbye. Its conclusion is a surreal parallel to the story of Icarus, though without answers, who’s to say what happened?
In its final moments, Flow reminds us that all things change — whether good or bad — as lives are saved and others are lost. It’s a natural balance the film illustrates time and again — from shifting weather patterns to the ever-changing dynamics within the group. As the core group huddles together, gazing into a puddle’s reflection, we’re offered one last symbolic tableau: the lemur’s ambition, the capybara compassion, the dog’s protectiveness, and the perilous journey of our cat — all culminating in a fleeting moment of peace.
