There’s something poetic about Flow winning in 2025.
The year a tiny, wordless animated film from Latvia stood against Disney’s Inside Out 2 and DreamWorks’ The Wild Robot—and won.
And let’s be real: Inside Out 2 was a cultural moment. It tackled anxiety head-on, bringing to life the intrusive thoughts that keep us up at night. It introduced new emotions, including Envy, a character that immediately went viral for looking exactly like Jungkook of BTS—something ARMY didn’t let slide for a second. (Seriously, Disney, we need answers.)
Meanwhile, The Wild Robot wasn’t just another animated feature—it was the frontrunner. A bestselling book adaptation, a story about an AI struggling to survive in nature, backed by one of the most prestigious animation studios in the world. DreamWorks poured everything into it—stunning visuals, deep existential themes, and the emotional depth that made it seem like a lock for the win.
But Flow had something else.
Because Flow didn’t just compete. It changed the game.
A film without words—well, not exactly
Directed by Gints Zilbalodis, Flow is a film that speaks in silence. Well, not exactly silence.
There’s no dialogue, no exposition, no voiceover to guide you. But there is sound. And not just any sound—real animal sounds, recorded from nature. The rustling of fur, the shifting of paws on wet wood, the distant cries of creatures you’ll never see.
And in a film like this, every sound matters.
The black cat at the heart of Flow doesn’t talk, but you hear it. The hesitant steps. The heartbeat of a creature deciding whether to fight or flee. The deep, instinctive breaths of an animal that knows survival is never guaranteed.
It’s storytelling at its purest—where meaning isn’t spoken, but felt.
The beauty of movement
Visually, Flow is breathtaking. It’s hypnotic. Every frame feels like a painting in motion, fluid and dreamlike, shifting between serenity and chaos like the waves themselves.
Unlike the hyper-detailed, ultra-slick animation of Pixar, or the bold stylization of Sony, Flow exists in its own space—somewhere between dream and reality. It’s minimalist but expressive, stripped down but deeply immersive.
And in the absence of words, the sound takes over.
Every splash, every rustle, every distant call of an unseen creature adds to the story. The score is subtle but powerful, guiding the emotion without ever overpowering it. It’s the kind of film where silence isn’t empty—it’s full.
And that’s why it works.
More than an Oscar—it’s a statement
But Flow’s victory isn’t just about its artistry. It’s about what it stands for.
This wasn’t a film made in a giant Hollywood studio with an army of animators and a marketing budget bigger than some countries’ GDPs.
Flow was made using Blender, a free and open-source software. No million-dollar animation suites. No corporate machine behind it. Just one man’s vision, painstakingly brought to life.
That’s why this win matters.
Because for decades, the Oscars for Best Animated Feature have belonged to the same handful of players. Pixar. Disney. DreamWorks. The same formula, the same pipeline, the same massive resources.
But Flow? It broke through. It rewrote the rules.
It stood in the same ring as Inside Out 2 and The Wild Robot—and won.
Not because it had the biggest budget. Not because it had the biggest names behind it. But because it had something undeniable.
But here’s the thing—Flow wasn’t just an underdog. It was an anomaly. A film that defied expectations before the race even began. In an era where animation is synonymous with franchise-building, box office dominance, and billion-dollar studio machines, Flow came out of nowhere.
No recognizable IP, no celebrity voices, no massive marketing push. Just a single, hauntingly beautiful story, told in a way that no other nominee dared attempt. In a lineup filled with spectacle, it was the quietest film in the room. And somehow, that (almost) silence roared the loudest.
The year the underdogs—and the undercats—took over
In 2020, Parasite shattered Hollywood’s status quo. It wasn’t just a foreign film winning—it was a statement that the Academy was finally looking beyond itself.
In 2025, Brazil finally claimed the Oscar that had slipped through its fingers decades ago.
And in this same historical year of 2025, Flow has redefined what an animated film can be. And Latvia had its first Oscar too. A historical year for the Oscars indeed.
Flow: A black cat, a flood, a journey with no words.
And a victory that speaks volumes.

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