Anatomy of a Flow: ecology of emotional in eco-narrative
Review by In the Frame critic Demelza Walkey.
As part of our In the Frame program, five emerging film critics had the opportunity to watch, reflect on and review films in the Perth Festival Lotterywest Films 2024 – 25 season.
Flow (2024) opens with a solitary black cat (Cat) looking down at his reflection in a trembling puddle of water. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated as he fixates on the surface. Two low mewls whine from his throat – puzzled, cautious, apprehensive. When the camera pans up, we see he is crouched in a lush forest. His tense ears uneasily twitch towards the direction of the slightest sound, flattening with discomfort when a rabbit bounds closer, crossing through the puddle and dousing the wide-eyed feline in muddy water. During the ensuing 84 minutes, director Gints Zilbalodis chronicles Cat’s journey of survival amongst a flooded world. He takes the audience on a journey full of character development, emotional arcs and diverse relationships in a strange world where humans are seemingly not present. Without a single line of dialogue, how does Zilbalodis manage to get viewers from many different backgrounds to relate to the journey of one little black cat? By relying exclusively on the story’s descriptive visual style and sound design.
Expanding on an idea planted over a decade ago, Zilbalodis has proven himself to be an artist with a clear vision who prefers emotional cues to communicate, rather than explicit exposition. With popular culture dominated by constant stimuli, Flow’s simple offering is refreshingly quiet and nourishing to the senses; an open invitation to pause and absorb the components presented. Flow is a sophisticated tale that encourages introspection, nurtured by literal and figurative instances of negative space, ebbing between pockets of calm and turmoil. It is the audience’s role to connect with the story to glean meaning from each instance. Through painting with light, colour, music and the language of animals, Zilbalodis tells a complete story without words, urging audiences to pay full attention and entertaining their intelligence’s capacity to understand, learn and empathise through working for the reward of information.
From shorts to features, Zilbalodis’ stories interweave similar themes; philosophical self-reflection, abstract natural worlds and cultivating personal safety – all without dialogue. His emphasis on environmental storytelling compels viewership: you must pay attention, though what lessons emerge remains for the individual to define. Through a baseline understanding of animal behaviours and cinematic conventions, the audience is gently guided over plot points, but not forced to reach the same conclusion. Without the absolute verdict of words, audiences are encouraged to fill gaps in verbal exposition with their own personal experiences in parallel issues. Zilbalodis did not need to be stranded in the ocean to be able to explore this metaphor for fear, likewise we do not need to be a cat to understand what the evocative illustrations of the film are a vehicle for: connecting with ‘otherness’ in the face of that fear.
Neither enforcing independence as a hindrance nor working together as the fix-all solution – the truth lies somewhere in the middle. This is most exemplified with the dog (Retriever) and Cat’s polarising attitudes. At first, Retriever is too trustful, reliant on external guidance; whereas Cat too untrusting, is too alone. Flow’s immersive and authentic atmosphere stems from years spent refining its core storyline. In 2012 Zilbalodis created the short film Aqua, which would later influence Flow’s construction. Though alike in concept, the latter rendition’s upgrade in details incomparably strengthens the intimacy between the viewer and Cat, heightening the weight of the story. Flow’s successful engagement is maintained through a richly coloured world that breathes life into 3D models. Accumulation with their chatter and swelling music, all work together to execute a narrative that feels sensationally full. Emotion is unable to be explained; it must be experienced.
Flow’s story was inspired by Zilbalodis’ own contention with anxiety and trust; ideas led by emotion and intuition, which are themselves wordless concepts. In pre–production, Zilbalodis wrote more than eight hours’ worth of musical demos to help structure his plans for the film. As a result, Flow’s emotional tone was integrated into the narrative from early development stages. He did not consult the eventual script beyond its purpose to provide to funding bodies, nor did he use any storyboards. Instead, he referred to the animatic he created. This gave him more freedom to explore where to anchor the camera’s perspective – not separated from the virtual landscape, but as part of it.
Aside from the cat's dynamic features, the stage they are on also amplifies their expressions. Flow uses intentional framing to alternate the story’s tempo in tune with Cat’s emotional journey. Despite having full control in making perfectly polished animations, Zilbalodis preferred a handmade feel. This manifested in using traditional live action cinematic language in the camera movements, sometimes appearing in a momentary quiver (as if handheld by a human operator), or being a few seconds late in panning to a moment of action, as well as a handful of long shots that suspend tension. These creative moments of coverage feel pulled from a documentary, drawing us in to learn through the subjective perspective of Cat. He doesn’t know exactly where the water came from, nor how often this happens – neither do we. This format of visual storytelling is understated, yet an important element in character-driven action though following each presentation with curious attention.
Cat, Retriever, Capybara and Lemur continuously navigate conflict and resolutions, even when they do not share a singular dialect. It is not their lack of ability to understand each other which disrupts their peace, but an initial indifference toward cooperation. Each creature is driven by different desires and fears, which are challenged and grown from as the narrative progresses. The behavioural idiosyncrasies of Flow’s animals remain intact, and their sense of agency directly influences the story’s direction. This further shrinks the gap of accessibility between human and animal correspondence, for we understand what fear and excitement look like in domestic animals – which we can then naturally extend to their wilder counterparts. Stakes and goals are clearly identifiable through the behaviours the creatures exhibit with each other and the props interacted with. Without an anthropomorphic entry point for the audience to relate to, we become acquainted with what their various temperaments suggest. Every breath, look, yelp, movement and micro expression provides a valuable signal. It is an exercise in showing, not telling. All are looking for connection and acceptance from others; a group they belong to. All are flawed, all are learning something. We can suspend our disbelief in the world by being able to relate to these struggles ourselves.
Flow (2024) concludes on Cat’s reflection in a tranquil puddle. He patiently sits, eyes relaxed and half-closing, silently watching the water’s surface. He is surrounded by the other animals he has grown to rely upon, affectionately leaning his head against them – serene, appreciative, supported. The repetitive motif of water and its emotional association changes throughout the story: the catalyst for connecting Cat with companionship and seeming to mirror his moody ebb between aggression and peace. Zilbalodis’ emotion-centred approach allows for a clear depiction of ideas, utilising expressionism rather than logic and verbal language. This deliberate spontaneity and softness paves the way for naturalistic storytelling. We must change our perspective to match Cat’s ever-present curiosity in a daunting world that provokes more questions than answers. Flow’s strong emotions and effective soundtrack transcends cultural barriers to express the unspeakable, co-creating material as informative as any speech. A film made by Gints Zilbalodis in the hopes of being understood – this too, will be interpreted differently by everyone. In the ecology of unspoken language, fear comes in torrential downpours, love comes in waves, tenacity comes in currents and belonging comes with heartbeats. This cinematic universe invents its own syntax, but what it means to me may not mean much to you. In the filmmaker’s own words: “I’m not explaining it. I’m asking the audience to participate in the storytelling”.