Sometimes, life changes overnight, and there’s nothing to do but be swept away by it, trying to navigate its currents with nothing to help you but sheer instinct and the will to survive.

Sound familiar? It should; most lives are at some point met with the challenge of facing a new personal reality when the old one unexpectedly ceases to exist. Losing a job, a home, a relationship: any of these experiences require us to adapt, often on the fly; well-laid plans fall by the wayside and the only thing that matters is surviving to meet a new challenge tomorrow.

When such catastrophes are communal, national, or even global, the stability of existence can be erased so completely that adaptation feels nearly impossible; the “hits” just keep on coming, and we’re left reeling in a constant state of panicked uncertainty. That might sound familiar, too.

If so, you likely realize that there’s little comfort to be found in most of the entertainments we seek for distraction, outside of the temporary respite provided by thinking about something else for a while — but there are some entertainments that can work on us in a deeper way, too, and perhaps provide us with something that feels like hope, even when we know there is no chance of returning to the world we once knew.

“Flow” is just such an entertainment.

Directed by Latvian filmmaker Gints Zilbalodis from a screenplay co-written with Matīss Kaža, this independently-produced, five-and-a-half-year-in-the-making animated fantasy adventure has become one of the most acclaimed films of 2024; debuting at Cannes in the non-competitive “Un Certain Regard” section, it won raves from international reviewers and went on to claim yearly “best of” honors from numerous critics’ organizations and film award bodies, including the Golden Globes and the National Board of Review. Now nominated not only for the Academy’s Best Animated Feature award but as Best International Feature (only the third animated movie to accomplish that feat) as well, it stands as the odds-on favorite to take home at least one of those Oscars, and possibly even both — and once seen, it’s hard to dissent from that assessment.

Set in an unspecified time and an unknown, richly forested place, it centers its narrative — which begins with breathtaking quickness, almost from the opening frames of the film — on a small-ish charcoal grey cat, who wakes from its slumber to find its home rapidly disappearing under a rising tide of water. Trying to stay ahead of the flood, it finds a lifeline when it discovers an abandoned sailboat, adrift on the waves, and seeks safety on board; but the cat is not the only refugee here, and with an unlikely group of other animals — a dog, a capybara, a lemur, and a secretary bird — sharing the ride, the plucky feline must forge alliances with (and between) each of its shipmates if any of them are to avoid a seemingly apocalyptic fate. Faced with setbacks and challenges at every turn, the crew of unlikely comrades learns to cooperate out of shared necessity — but will it be enough to keep the uncontrollable waters that surround them from becoming their final oblivion?

With no human presence in the movie — though the implication that it once existed, accompanied by the inevitable suspicion that climate change is behind the mysterious flood, is ominously delivered through the monumental ruined structures and broken relics it has seemingly left behind — the story unfolds without a word of dialogue, a narrative chain of events that keeps us ever-focused on the “now.” The non-verbal vocalizations of its characters (each provided by authentic animal sounds rather than human impersonation) help to convey their relationships with clarity, but it’s the visual evocation of their sensory experiences — of being trapped and at the mercy of the elements, of making an unexpected connection with another being, of enjoying a simple pleasure like a soft place to sleep — that fuels this remarkable exploration of physical existence at its most raw and vulnerable. We have no way of knowing what has happened, no way of imagining what is yet to come, but such questions fade quickly into irrelevance as the story carries our attention from the immediacy of one moment into the next.

Accentuating this in-the-moment flow of “Flow”— for if ever a film title could be said to summarize its style, it is surely this one — is its eye-absorbing visual beauty, rendered via the open-sourced software Blender to provide an aesthetic which matches the material. These realistically-drawn animals come vividly to life against a backdrop that captures a deep connection to nature, accented with the surreal intrusions of human influence and a certain appreciation for the colorful beauty of the world around us, even at its most untamed, which hints at an indefinable mysticism; and when the story begins to transcend the expected borders of its meticulously-crafted realism, the animation takes us there so easily that we scarcely notice it has happened.

Yet transcend it does, and in so doing becomes something greater than a humble adventure tale. As the animal companions progress in their journey toward hoped-for safety, the remnants of human existence become more weathered, more ancient, and less recognizable; the natural landscape through which they are carried begins to be transformed, rendered in a more mythic light by the clash of elemental forces swirling around them and the strange encounters with other creatures that occur along their way. Whatever world this may have been, it seems rapidly to be dissolving into a cosmos where the forms of the past are being reconfigured into something new — and the band of travelers, both witness to and participants in this process, cannot help but be reconfigured, too.

We can’t explain that further without spoilers, but we can tell you that it includes the cat’s ability to ignore its solitary instincts and natural mistrust of its comrades in order to form a diverse (yes, we said it) and cooperative team. It also involves learning to let go of things that can no longer help, to be open to new possibilities that might, and perhaps most importantly, to surrender without fear to the “flow” and trust that it will eventually take you where you need to go, as long as you can manage to stay afloat until you get there.

Zilbalodis’s film is an immersive ride, full of visceral and frequently harrowing moments that may produce some anxiety (especially for those who hate seeing animals in peril) and conceptual shifts that may challenge your expectations — but it is a ride well worth taking. More than merely a fantastical “Noah’s Ark” fable reimagined for an environmentally conscious age, it just might offer the timely catharsis many of us need to confront our unknowable future with a renewed sense of possibility.
“Flow” begins streaming on Max on Feb. 14.

Named for the title character in Oscar Wilde’s classic novel “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” the Dorian Awards are presented annually by GALECA: The Society of LGBTQ Entertainment Critics, an organization comprised of 500+ entertainment critics, journalists, and media icons, in three separate categories: film, television, and Broadway, each announced at different times during the year. On Feb. 13, the society announced the winners of its 16th annual Dorian Film Awards, and the list of honorees — perhaps unsurprisingly — contains a number of picks that won’t be sharing in the glory on Oscar night.

Reflecting a growing trend among a new generation of film reviewers to give genre films — especially, perhaps, horror movies — the same weight of artistic merit as the so-called “prestige” pictures that typically get all the kudos at mainstream award ceremonies, the champions for 2025’s honors in several major categories were horror or fantasy films, most prominently writer-director Coralie Fargeat’s runaway hit satirical chiller “The Substance,” which was crowned Film of the Year, along with four other Dorians in all, including one for star Demi Moore for Film Performance of the Year (an all-gender leading actor category with a single winner from a pool of nominees) and one for Fargeat as Film Director of the Year.

Moore herself scored twice, picking up the Dorians’ Timeless Star career achievement award, bestowed on entertainment artists with “an exemplary career marked by character, wisdom and wit,” to join the ranks of former winners like Jodie Foster, Jane Fonda, Nathan Lane, John Waters, Rita Moreno, Jane Fonda, George Takei, and Sir Ian McKellen.

Horror was also the hook for another of the year’s big winners, writer-director Jane Schoenbrun’s trans allegory “I Saw the TV Glow” (the most nominated film in this year’s Dorian roundup, with nods in 9 categories), which took the prizes for LGBTQ Film and LGBTQ Screenplay of the Year.

There were also some less scary choices with multiple wins: “Will & Harper,” the road-trip documentary about actor Will Ferrell’s longtime friendship with trans comedy writer Harper Steele, was named as both Documentary and LGBTQ Documentary of the Year; and director Luca Guadagnino’s homoerotic tennis-themed love triangle “Challengers” took Screenplay of the Year for writer Justin Kuritzkes, with rock legends Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross earning Best Music for the movie’s techno score.

“Wicked” – nominated in several categories – snared a win in the all-gender Supporting Performance of the Year race for Ariana Grande, and while her co-stars may have missed out in their categories, out “Bridgerton” heartthrob Jonathan Bailey was given GALECA’s “Rising Star” Award, and Cynthia Erivo was recipient of this year’s LGBTQIA+ Film Trailblazer award, meant for an artist who “inspires empathy, truth and equity,” with past recipients including honor Janelle Monáe, Pedro Almodóvar, Isabel Sandoval, and Colman Domingo.

As for Domingo, nominated in the Film Performance race for his work in “Sing Sing,” though he likewise lost in his category, he was given another Dorians special prize — “Wilde Artist” of the Year, a special accolade named in homage to Oscar Wilde reserved for “a truly groundbreaking force in entertainment.”

Other Dorian winners this year included writer/director/star Julio Torres’ eccentric comedy “Problemista” and the trans-empowering Batman send-up “The People’s Joker,” named as Unsung Film and Unsung LGBTQ Film of the year, respectively; director RaMell Ross’s imaginatively conceived literary adaptation “Nickel Boys” was named Visually Striking Film of the Year, and the dazzlingly cinematic animal adventure “Flow” beat out an impressive roster of competitors to win as Animated Film of the Year.

Brazilian protest drama “I’m Still Here” was given the Dorian for Non-English Language Film of the Year, and “Emilia Pérez” – despite the controversies that have emerged to plague the French trans-themed musical epic during the last legs of Awards Season, was nevertheless named as LGBTQ Non-English Language Film of the Year.

In announcing this year’s Dorian winners, group President Walt Hicket said, “In our 16th year, GALECA’s members still have wicked fun toasting their favorites in film, both mainstream and LGBTQ-themed.” Added Vice President Diane Anderson-Minshall, “I’m certain even some ultra-conservatives who are out to erase all sorts of ‘woke’ words and letters (not to mention history) are secretly taking note of our winners. Everyone appreciates the expert Q+ eye on entertainment.”

The complete list of nominees and winners is below. Winners are in boldface.

FILM OF THE YEAR

“Anora” (Neon)

“Challengers” (Amazon MGM Studios)

“I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

“Nickel Boys” (Orion Pictures/Amazon MGM Studios)

“The Substance” (Mubi)

LGBTQ FILM OF THE YEAR

“Challengers” (Amazon MGM Studios)

“Emilia Pérez” (Netflix)

“I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

“Love Lies Bleeding” (A24)

“Queer” (A24)

DIRECTOR OF THE YEAR

Brady Corbet, “The Brutalist” (A24)

Coralie Fargeat, “The Substance” (Mubi)

Luca Guadagnino, “Challengers” (Amazon MGM Studios)

RaMell Ross, “Nickel Boys” (Orion Pictures/Amazon MGM Studios)

Jane Schoenbrun, “I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

SCREENPLAY OF THE YEAR – Original or Adapted

Sean Baker, “Anora” (Neon)

Coralie Fargeat, “The Substance” (Mubi)

Justin Kuritzkes, “Challengers” (Amazon MGM Studios)

Jane Schoenbrun, “I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

Peter Straughan, “Conclave” (Focus Features)

LGBTQ SCREENPLAY OF THE YEAR

Rose Glass and Weronika Tofilska, “Love Lies Bleeding” (A24)

Justin Kuritzkes, “Challengers” (Amazon MGM Studios)

Justin Kuritzkes, “Queer” (A24)

Jane Schoenbrun, “I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

Julio Torres, “Problemista” (A24)

NON-ENGLISH LANGUAGE FILM OF THE YEAR

“All We Imagine as Light” (Sideshow / Janus Films)

“Emilia Pérez” (Netflix)

“Flow” (Sideshow / Janus Films)

“I’m Still Here” (Sony Pictures Classics)

“The Seed of the Sacred Fig” (Neon)

LGBTQ NON-ENGLISH FILM OF THE YEAR

“Crossing” (Mubi)

“Emilia Pérez” (Netflix)

“Queendom” (Greenwich Entertainment)

“Vermiglio” (Sideshow / Janus Films)

“All Shall Be Well” (Strand Releasing)

UNSUNG FILM OF THE YEAR – to an exceptional movie worthy of greater attention

“Didi” (Focus Features)

“Hundreds of Beavers” (Cineverse, Vinegar Syndrome)

“My Old Ass” (Amazon MGM Studios)

“Problemista” (A24)

“Thelma” (Magnolia)

UNSUNG LGBTQ FILM OF THE YEAR – to an exceptional LGBTQ movie worthy of greater attention

“Femme” (Utopia)

“My Old Ass” (Amazon MGM Studios)

“National Anthem” (Variance, LD Entertainment)

“The People’s Joker” (Altered Innocence)

“Problemista” (A24)

FILM PERFORMANCE OF THE YEAR

Adrien Brody, “The Brutalist” (A24)

Daniel Craig, “Queer” (A24)

Colman Domingo, “Sing Sing” (A24)

Karla Sofía Gascón, “Emilia Pérez” (Netflix)

Cynthia Erivo, “Wicked” (Universal)

Marianne Jean-Baptiste, “Hard Truths” (Bleecker Street)

Nicole Kidman, “Babygirl” (A24)

Mikey Madison, “Anora” (Neon)

Demi Moore, “The Substance” (Mubi)

Justice Smith, “I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

SUPPORTING FILM PERFORMANCE OF THE YEAR

Michele Austin, “Hard Truths” (Bleecker Street)

Yura Borisov, “Anora” (Neon)

Kieran Culkin, “A Real Pain” (Searchlight Pictures)

Ariana Grande, “Wicked” (Universal)

Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, “Nickel Boys” (Orion Pictures/Amazon MGM Studios)

Jack Haven, “I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

Clarence Maclin, “Sing Sing” (A24)

Guy Pearce, “The Brutalist” (A24)

Margaret Qualley, “The Substance” (Mubi)

Zoe Saldaña, “Emilia Pérez” (Netflix)

DOCUMENTARY OF THE YEAR

“Dahomey” (Mubi)

“Daughters” (Netflix)

“The Remarkable Life of Ibelin” (Netflix)

“Sugarcane” (National Geographic)

“Will & Harper” (Netflix)

LGBTQ DOCUMENTARY OF THE YEAR

“Chasing Chasing Amy” (Level 33)

“Frida” (Amazon MGM Studios)

“Merchant Ivory” (Cohen Media Group)

“Queendom” (Greenwich Entertainment)

“Will & Harper” (Netflix)

ANIMATED FILM OF THE YEAR

“Flow” (Sideshow / Janus Films)

“Inside Out 2” (Disney)

“Memoir of a Snail” (IFC Films)

“Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl” (Netflix)

“The Wild Robot” (Universal, DreamWorks)

GENRE FILM OF THE YEAR – for excellence in science fiction, fantasy and horror

“Dune: Part Two” (Warner Bros.)

“I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

“Nosferatu” (Focus Features)

“The Substance” (Mubi)

“Wicked” (Universal)

FILM MUSIC OF THE YEAR

Daniel Blumberg, “The Brutalist” (A24)

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, “Challengers” (Amazon MGM Studios)

Clément Ducol and Camille, “Emilia Pérez” (Netflix)

Alex G, “I Saw the TV Glow” (A24)

John Powell and Stephen Schwartz, et al., “Wicked” (Universal)

VISUALLY STRIKING FILM OF THE YEAR

“The Brutalist” (A24)

“Dune: Part Two” (Warner Bros.)

“Nosferatu” (Focus Features)

“Nickel Boys” (Orion Pictures/Amazon MGM Studios)

“The Substance” (Mubi)

CAMPIEST FLICK

“Hundreds of Beavers” (Cineverse, Vinegar Syndrome)

“Madame Web” (Sony)

“Megalopolis” (Lionsgate)

“The” Substance” (Mubi)

“Trap” (Warner Bros.)

‘WE’RE WILDE ABOUT YOU!’ RISING STAR AWARD

Jonathan Bailey

Vera Drew

Karla Sofía Gascón

Jack Haven

Mikey Madison

Katy O’Brian

Drew Starkey

WILDE ARTIST AWARD

To a truly groundbreaking force in entertainment

Colman Domingo

Luca Guadagnino

Coralie Fargeat

Jane Schoenbrun

Tilda Swinton

GALECA LGBTQIA+ FILM TRAILBLAZER

For creating art that inspires empathy, truth and equity

Vera Drew

Cynthia Erivo

Luca Guadagnino

Jane Schoenbrun

Julio Torres

TIMELESS STAR (Career achievement award)

Honoring an exemplary career marked by character, wisdom and with Demi Moore

Even in a time when it has been well established that an animated film is not necessarily meant for children, you might expect one with the title “Memoir of a Snail” to be something soft, sweet, and whimsical enough to be suitable for even the youngest of toddlers – but you can’t judge a film by its title, any more than you can a book by its cover.

One of 2024’s most well-received films, animated or otherwise, this deceptively adorable feature from Australian animator Adam Elliott certainly fits part of the above description (the “whimsical” part), but it could only be considered a children’s movie by someone who still thinks “cartoons” are just for kids. Elliott – whose 2003 film “Harvie Krumpet” won the Oscar for Best Animated Short – is a filmmaker who uses animation (or more specifically, stop-motion “claymation”) to tell semi-autobiographical stories, often about characters based on his own family and friends, and while his visual style might be cute enough to engage your toddler, the content of his narratives is unmistakably tailored for adults.

In this case, that narrative is centered on – and told in flashback by – one Grace Prudel (voiced as an adult by “Succession” star Sarah Snook, and as a child by Charlotte Belsey and Agnes Davison), a girl who grows up in 1970s Melbourne with a twin brother named Gilbert (Mason Litsos/Kodi Smit-McPhee) under the care of their father, a former French animator (Dominique Pinon) with a fondness for roller coasters. When he dies and leaves them without support, the deeply bonded Grace and Gilbert are taken into the foster system and sent to live with families on opposite sides of the country. Grace, whose “swinger” foster parents often leave her on her own, struggles with isolation and loneliness, while Gilbert suffers under the tyrannical rule of a fundamentalist religious couple who exploit all their children as free labor.

Eventually, Grace crosses paths with Pinky (Jacki Weaver), an elderly free spirit who takes on the role of mentor and helps her endure a number of hardships, including a disastrous wedding engagement and her continued separation from Gilbert; depressed, overweight, and increasingly seeking refuge with her collections of snails, romance novels, and guinea pigs – all of which serve as both consolation and distraction from her seemingly impossible dream of following in her father’s filmmaking footsteps – it is her bond with Pinky that may finally provide her with the lifeline to keep her hope alive.

Striking a delicate balance between sentiment and savvy, Elliott’s film – his first feature effort since 2009’s “Mary and Max” – bridges the gap expertly with just enough satirical exaggeration to avoid being maudlin, yet keeps its eye on the redemptive prize (despite the occasional Dickensian twist) by treating Grace with the kind of empathy that can only be achieved by putting the audience completely into her shoes. Without spoilers, we watch as she goes through multiple quirky-yet-relatable setbacks, reinforcing the connection with our own inner misfit by conjuring familiar (and potentially unifying) feelings of inadequacy – leading us, ideally, to forgive ourselves for our own perceived shortcomings.

Visually, “Memoir of a Snail” evokes memories of many other stop-motion efforts, contrasting the inherent “cuteness” of its style with the less-comforting content of its storyline. Resembling a tried-and-true “Wallace and Gromit” film (such as equally excellent fellow Oscar-nominee “Vengeance Most Foul”) but decidedly more focused on the inner lives of its characters, it blends and contrasts a familiar and traditional form with an emotional honesty that disarms our cynicism. Mixed with its warm whimsy is an acknowledgement of life’s dark corners, a frank awareness that, sometimes, loss and sorrow happen and there’s nothing to be done but to go through them – there are no fantastical inventions to ease Grace’s path, no tongue-in-cheek capers that can set things right and restore her world to some kind of happy status quo; like the rest of us, she must work through the darkness, not to get back to the way things were, but to arrive at a place where new things are possible – where the grief and sorrow that are inevitably woven into our life can be weathered and overcome, even if they can’t be avoided.

As to that grief and sorrow, “Memoir of a Snail” touches on the universal; Grace’s struggles with loss and loneliness, the disappointments, humiliations, and outright betrayals she confronts, all hit close to home – the loss of loved ones, the loneliness of not fitting in, the trauma of being bullied and abused – and there are no easy answers to healing from them. 

Yet melancholy as its tone may often feel, Elliott’s movie defies its own gravity with a wicked sense of humor and a sharp knack for commentary on the quirks and foibles of human behavior. Despite the grimness into which it sometimes must descend – which includes the depiction of shock treatment used for “conversion therapy” by Gilbert’s homophobic foster family – it manages to maintain a light-hearted attitude, buoyed by a keen (and often ironic) sense of humor and an embrace of the inescapable absurdities of life, and emerge not only with acceptance but with hope that, with a little help from our friends, things do get better.

It’s this message that infuses “Memoir” with such a sense of humanity; it is through the special bonds she finds – including the ones she shares with her beloved snails – that Grace endures. The heart of the movie beats through her friendship with Pinky, a fellow “misfit” with the wisdom and kindness to renew her faith in life, and it’s that warmth and humanity that takes a tale of hardship and emotional suffering and turns it into one of the year’s most delightful movies.

Visually lovely, with an array of memorable voice performances and a delicious balance of humor ranging from silly to the macabre, “Memoir of a Snail” may not have the Disney appeal – nor the subject matter – to make it a good choice for children, but it has the candor and willingness to explore the darker places in our lives, the “sacred wounds” that give our lives meaning, and the power of love to keep us in the light.

Nominated for the Best Animated Feature Oscar, Elliott’s film is now streaming via multiple VOD platforms – and as much, if not more, worth your attention as any of the live action films competing in the other categories. After all, a movie about the power of kindness to help us endure difficult times is something most of us could probably use, right about now.