Banner image: Courtesy of Curzon
Latvian wildlife fable Flow made a splash at the Academy Awards earlier this month when it was named 2025’s best animated feature. Following success at January’s Golden Globes, Flow beat out big-shot blockbusters like The Wild Robot and Inside Out 2, securing Latvia’s first Oscar and making it the only independent film in history to win the award.
The tale follows a wary, solitary cat living in a derelict house in a lush woodland. The world is an intriguing mix of idyllic and uncanny, populated by (mostly) familiar creatures. There are signs of civilisation, but no humans in sight. Dizzying stone pillars rise in the distance, while vegetation weaves through the crumbling buildings. It isn’t clear what’s happened to all the people, but we get a clue when a violent flash flood sweeps through the forest, swallowing the cat’s home in its watery depths.
Fortunately, after taking refuge on a ginormous statue of itself (presumably built by its one-time owner), the cat is saved from the rising water level by a passing sailboat with a mellow, lethargic capybara on board. As they sail across the flooded landscape, more animals join their crew – including a trinket-obsessed lemur, a stoic secretary bird, and a boisterous golden retriever. Along the way, the rag-tag gang learn to set aside their differences and work together to survive.
Courtesy of Curzon
It’s a story we’ve all seen before, brimming with sentiments of acceptance and togetherness – albeit with a fresh climate change slant. However, what makes Flow so impressive is that it’s told entirely without words. The animals are exaggerated and anthropomorphised at times – all steering the ship with the ease of Venetian gondoliers. However, for the most part, they behave exactly like animals, with story and character emerging from nuanced and naturalistic interactions, whether petty scuffles or sharing fish.
Alongside the more mystical features of the world (like the totems surrounding the cat’s house and the mythical whale that appears in moments of crisis), the lack of conversation and explanation helps create a rich, dreamlike atmosphere that’s utterly unique. And while the story is never unclear, it leaves plenty of room for interpretation; we’re sure Flow will inspire plenty of lively post-cinema discussions.
The overall tone is tender and heartfelt, but there’s some genuine comic relief provided by the lemur and capybara characters, which is all the more impressive considering the absence of words and the filmmakers’ refusal to rely on pratfalls and other cheap humour tricks. Yet, some idiosyncratic moments don’t jive with the overall vibe – one brief scene where the crew are accosted by a gang of jewellery-clad lemur pirates comes to mind. But we suppose these tonal flyaways are inevitable when you’re undertaking such unique world-building as this.
Courtesy of Curzon
As for the animation, the landscapes are stunningly depicted – whether the roiling sea during a storm or the forest at dusk. There’s a particularly beautiful scene early on where the gooey glow of a setting sun is filtered through the gently rustling trees. And the ‘camera’ perspective is constantly on the move, offering a dynamic quality that keeps things from getting stale.
From dust motes shifting in a shaft of light to the way the cat’s ears twitch in the rain, the attention to detail is magnificent. Some characters may not be as crisply rendered as those in a Pixar or Dreamworks production, and the sound design is heavy-handed at times. But considering Flow was created entirely with Blender, a free, open-source animation software, it’s a jaw-dropping achievement for director Gints Zilbalodis and his team.
When concerns around technology are widespread, Flow is a shining example of the democratising potential of readily available digital tools; how, armed with free software, visionary self-starters can create something to rival (or even surpass) the work of multi-million dollar companies. As well as pushing the boundaries of animation, the filmmakers behind this captivating parable also stretch the limits of storytelling, prompting us to ask why we ever needed a crime-solving dog or a bear in a raincoat, when a good story well told was enough.
Flow is in cinemas now.
Are you going to watch Flow? Or have you already seen it? We’d love to hear from you in the comments below.