Flow: Beauty and Ambiguity

Some people are cat people. Some are dog people. I’m the latter, but this film is decidedly the former—and I’m not mad about it (though the dogs are clearly portrayed as the lesser species). Flow ushers in a fresh take on children’s animation, blending fluid, floating camera work with a daring non-dialogue script. This ambitious choice is both the film's greatest strength and its Achilles' heel. If you’re willing to go with the flow, it’s a charming and enjoyable way to spend ninety minutes.

The film leans heavily on visual storytelling, weaving a recurring theme of reflections throughout its narrative. It begins and ends with our protagonist gazing into a puddle at its own reflection, and a found mirror becomes a cherished artifact during the journey. There’s an undeniable metaphor at play here, but its meaning remains elusive. The absence of dialogue turns Flow into an interactive experience, inviting the audience to interpret the story and its emotional beats for themselves. This approach is a double-edged sword—it’s refreshingly unique and personal, yet it leaves the core message somewhat opaque. Beyond the surface-level “let’s all work together to survive,” many questions linger unanswered.

Visually, Flow impresses right out of the gate. The first act is a masterclass in pacing, especially considering no words are spoken. The sweeping, dynamic camera work and next-gen video game-like animation are captivating and immersive which provides a flow of beauty and ambiguity. The camera feels like a ghostly presence, gently following the characters on their voyage—a sensation reminiscent of Link's Fairy's POV in The Legend of Zelda. However, this initial momentum falters in the second act, where the pacing slows and the energy wanes. By the time the credits roll, the 90-minute runtime feels noticeably stretched.

Ultimately, Flow is a bold and visually arresting experiment in children’s animation. Its lack of dialogue may challenge its ability to hold a child’s attention, and its story lacks the clarity needed to fully resonate with adults. Still, the film's distinctive approach and artistic execution make it a worthwhile watch, if not an instant classic. While it may not demand a rewatch, Flow leaves me with a deep appreciation for its ambition. Movies like this should be made more often—it’s a swing worth admiring. Maybe if I was a cat person it'd feel like more of a homer run.