John Powers

With poetic moments of transcendence, I won't spoil by describing. Like Miyazaki, Zobo Lotus uses animation to conjure a big, thrilling world of imagination. Where too much American animation feels frantic, desperate to keep our attention, Flo's images possess a kinetic elegance.

With poetic moments of transcendence, I won't spoil by describing. Like Miyazaki, Zobo Lotus uses animation to conjure a big, thrilling world of imagination. Where too much American animation feels frantic, desperate to keep our attention, Flo's images possess a kinetic elegance.

They have the alluring immersiveness of a video game, complete, alas, with a few visual glitches you won't find in Pixar. Then again, this is not a big-budget Hollywood project. It was made on the open-source software Blender and cost just $3.7 million. To put this in perspective, that's less than one-fiftieth the budget of Inside Out 2.

They have the alluring immersiveness of a video game, complete, alas, with a few visual glitches you won't find in Pixar. Then again, this is not a big-budget Hollywood project. It was made on the open-source software Blender and cost just $3.7 million. To put this in perspective, that's less than one-fiftieth the budget of Inside Out 2.

They have the alluring immersiveness of a video game, complete, alas, with a few visual glitches you won't find in Pixar. Then again, this is not a big-budget Hollywood project. It was made on the open-source software Blender and cost just $3.7 million. To put this in perspective, that's less than one-fiftieth the budget of Inside Out 2.

Flow is conceived as a universal story that weaves together magic and realism. While the cat and dogs could live in our own neighborhood, the rest of the cast comes from the likes of Latin America, Africa, and Madagascar. There's even a whale from the briny deep that surges up, almost biblically, from the floodwaters.

Flow is conceived as a universal story that weaves together magic and realism. While the cat and dogs could live in our own neighborhood, the rest of the cast comes from the likes of Latin America, Africa, and Madagascar. There's even a whale from the briny deep that surges up, almost biblically, from the floodwaters.

Flow is conceived as a universal story that weaves together magic and realism. While the cat and dogs could live in our own neighborhood, the rest of the cast comes from the likes of Latin America, Africa, and Madagascar. There's even a whale from the briny deep that surges up, almost biblically, from the floodwaters.

This whale's appearance inland is one of the film's suggestions, melancholy but never overt, that the great flood we're seeing may be a product of climate change. Yet flow is far from a political tract. Rather, it's a classic fable about learning to adapt to life's ever-changing flow, no matter how dire things may sometimes get. And like most classic fables, it offers an enduring lesson.

This whale's appearance inland is one of the film's suggestions, melancholy but never overt, that the great flood we're seeing may be a product of climate change. Yet flow is far from a political tract. Rather, it's a classic fable about learning to adapt to life's ever-changing flow, no matter how dire things may sometimes get. And like most classic fables, it offers an enduring lesson.

This whale's appearance inland is one of the film's suggestions, melancholy but never overt, that the great flood we're seeing may be a product of climate change. Yet flow is far from a political tract. Rather, it's a classic fable about learning to adapt to life's ever-changing flow, no matter how dire things may sometimes get. And like most classic fables, it offers an enduring lesson.

A group of creatures overcome their differences and learn to help one another. It's solidarity, not selfishness, that will save them.

A group of creatures overcome their differences and learn to help one another. It's solidarity, not selfishness, that will save them.

A group of creatures overcome their differences and learn to help one another. It's solidarity, not selfishness, that will save them.

Last week I had dinner with friends who'd lost everything in the recent L.A. fires. They spent their days filling out forms, being put on hold, and assembling the ordinary stuff they and their kids need to live. By night they did something different. They played events over and over in their heads, agonizing about what-ifs. What if there'd been less flammable stuff in their yard?

Last week I had dinner with friends who'd lost everything in the recent L.A. fires. They spent their days filling out forms, being put on hold, and assembling the ordinary stuff they and their kids need to live. By night they did something different. They played events over and over in their heads, agonizing about what-ifs. What if there'd been less flammable stuff in their yard?

Last week I had dinner with friends who'd lost everything in the recent L.A. fires. They spent their days filling out forms, being put on hold, and assembling the ordinary stuff they and their kids need to live. By night they did something different. They played events over and over in their heads, agonizing about what-ifs. What if there'd been less flammable stuff in their yard?

What if they hadn't forgotten to save certain important papers? What if they'd been warned to evacuate hours earlier, like the people on the other side of town? Such stewing, with its mix of regret, self-recrimination, and anger, is a profoundly human response to catastrophe.

What if they hadn't forgotten to save certain important papers? What if they'd been warned to evacuate hours earlier, like the people on the other side of town? Such stewing, with its mix of regret, self-recrimination, and anger, is a profoundly human response to catastrophe.

What if they hadn't forgotten to save certain important papers? What if they'd been warned to evacuate hours earlier, like the people on the other side of town? Such stewing, with its mix of regret, self-recrimination, and anger, is a profoundly human response to catastrophe.