Flow (2025)

The Best Animated Film winner at this year's Oscars was a real surprise. Gints Zilbalodis's beautifully crafted, wonderous and wordless Flow snatched the award from under the noses of Pixar's Inside Out 2 (2024) and Dreamworks' The Wild Robot (2024), not to mention Bafta winner Aardman's Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl (2024).

Part environmental fable part heartwarming tale of connection and comradeship, Flow's central character is a small black cat, who lives in an abandoned house in a forest; humans seem to be long gone, and the earth is evidently existing post some kind of biblical flood.

The film provides a potentially unsettling prophecy for the planet's not too distant future as cities live underwater, and as the result of another cascade of water filling the forest, the small cat must flee its home and eventually finds refuge on a sailboat along with a capybara, a very large bird, a lemur, and latterly a dog.

They drift aimlessly, relying mainly on survival instinct; difficult considering the natural inclinations of their built in dynamics, but it's a joy to see them being forced to work together in such an unforgiving environment. Flow was entirely created in the open source 3D creation suite Blender, and the animation style renders a beautifully created world- you'll be openly gasping at the beauty of some of the landmarks half submerged during the journey.

Some of these monuments (mainly at the beginning of the film) are large statues of cats, making you marvel at the questions entering your head- what was this world like before the flood? What was the status of the cat? They're questions that suitably remain unanswered; Flow is interested in letting those queries linger, adding an intriguing layer to proceedings as the animals come together to battle the elements.

The sailboat becomes a miniature society in itself as the film progresses, the animals initially being extremely aware of one another; especially the small cat as it struggles to understand the capybara's intentions (that are completely innocuous of course) and latterly the dog(s) and the large bird who's something of an enigma. Indeed the bird defends the cat in a particularly heartwarming sequences in which it turns against its own kind to protect the cat from being eaten, and there's something of a guardian angel feel to the bird throughout; culminating in a truly tear inducing sequence atop a huge rock in a treacherous cove.

It's the lemur who provides much of the comic relief, nearly being left behind as it scrabbles together its bizarre possessions (all taken from the remains of a house); its favourite being a handheld mirror. The cat also spends time gazing at its own reflection in water or fragments of material, and the capybara also finds interest in itself- it's only the bird that seems in control of itself, focusing on the task at hand in steering the boat through treacherous terrain.

It might be a stretch to claim that the animals are all questioning their existence or dealing with existential crises during their journey, but they're certainly forced to deal with their living reality- and in the cat's case it undoubtedly travels to ethereal places; whether these sojourns are in its own head or not is left up to the imagination.

And that imagination is at the heart of Flow. Zilbalodis's film (you'll find his name in five separate departments in the credits) is unlike anything you've ever seen before. Despite the fact that The Wild Robot, which is a terrific film, deals with similar themes (animals have to put aside their differences to work together) Flow is a more adult animation and fable- although undoubtedly a joy for young children as well. I was lucky enough to see it with my seven-year-old daughter at an advanced preview screening, and we both absolutely loved it. Indeed, she named it her favourite film of all time once we'd let it digest for a couple of hours- a big claim considering it had to fight off competition from The Lego Batman Movie (2017), The Garfield Movie (2024) and Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget (2023). Flow should be seen by young and old alike, and the fact that it's garnered such positive buzz is to be celebrated- and yes, many will laud it solely for being a warning for climate change, but let's just put that to one side and applaud it for simply being a wonderful piece of film making. The wordless animation calls to mind last year's sumptuous Robot Dreams, and Flow deserves to be spoken about in the same glowing terms- it's already one of 2025's finest films. 8.6/10