23/05/2024 - CANNES 2024: We sat down with the renowned Latvian animation director to discuss apocalyptic floods and domestic animals

(© Kristaps Kalns)

Unlike with Away [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Gints Zilbalodis
film profile], Gints Zilbalodis’ debut feature-length animation, in his sophomore animated feature, Flow [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Gints Zilbalodis
film profile], screening in Un Certain Regard at Cannes, the protagonist isn’t alone any more. And neither is Zilbalodis. For Away, he singlehandedly took on multiple creative responsibilities, including direction, animation, screenplay writing, editing and score composition. Now, he has teamed up with Matīss Kaža (co-scriptwriter) and a wider team overall. The dialogue- and human-less film whisks us away on a magnificent journey where a flood forces a black cat to flee and overcome his fear of the water while sailing on a boat with other animals.

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Cineuropa: While watching Flow, several associations arise, be it Noah's Ark, climate change, the refugee crisis, or even the folktale about a granddad’s mitten. To what degree are particular ideas intentionally embedded here, and how much is simply a free-flowing fantasy?
Gints Zilbalodis: It’s mostly an intuitive flow of fantasy. Everything started with the cat. He's an individualistic and independent creature reluctantly accepting others. Now, he must learn to get along and collaborate with other animals. The flood is not necessarily a reference to any specific mythology; it began with a desire to show the cat’s fear. So, it's something simple and personal, rather than being grandiose or referential. Still, these floods serve as a metaphor for a catastrophe that disrupts daily routines and obliges us to change. Also, I didn’t want any antagonists. The conflict arises from nature. Sure, it also occurs among the characters, but their motivations are understandable in this situation.

How did this group of animals come together?
The cat was the key character, and the dog followed soon after. As I tackled the themes of individuality, society, and fitting in versus remaining independent, the dog was introduced as an opposing force to the cat. He starts out as an eager follower, afraid to be left alone, but grows into an independent decision maker. The other characters arose from this dynamic.

As someone accustomed to working alone, how was it for you to work in a team?
I got lucky with the team. However, teamwork also meant greater organisational responsibility and finding a common path that would lead to the desired goal. Given that before, I was making films on my own, this was entirely new territory for me – more than 50 people were involved. One thing is the creative and technical work, quite another the management and the constant communication. Before, anything that popped into my mind was up to me. Now, I needed to get used to communicating my sometimes-abstract ideas.

Flow provides a deeply immersive viewing experience. Can you elaborate on your approach to achieving this intense sense of tactility and subjectivity?
The camera movement and the mise-en-scène were the key elements in creating the sense of presence. The long takes and relatively minimal editing obtain that. One take contains both intimate close-ups and wide scenery. That helps us to grasp the vastness and to feel that we are in this environment. The absence of dialogue required me to use the camera as the primary artistic means to convey emotional depth. I picture a movement, a rhythm, and then I figure out how to fill this space. Although the tempo changes, the movement is constant. That immerses the viewer. Yet it’s pivotal to have moments of silence and leave some breathing space. I didn’t want to clutter the image, because then, the effect is lost.

The unique environment, with its elevated altitudes and unique flora and fauna, suggests a world apart from that of Latvia. What inspired you to create this distinct setting?
It’s a mix of influences. It’s not a particular place on our planet. I was determined to avoid anything ordinary. The environment and the atmosphere amplify the cat’s sense of astonishment and dread. When I was pondering how to depict his anxiety, I imagined a scene with drowning cats, but I couldn’t let this animal drown. Therefore, I decided to use these huge cat statues. When thinking things through, I tend to start at the ending and then work backwards to figure out the rest. Maybe a sculptor lived there. 

This time, you're not the only composer. Can you share some insights into the process of creating the music?
For Away, it was rather minimalistic. This time, I opted for something more concrete. I started composing before the screenplay was finished. Creating the score at an early stage allowed me to edit at my own pace. Yet, I still wanted to work with a professional. Rihards Zaļupe [the co-composer] helped me with the orchestration and adaptation. By using percussion and other instruments, he also created some scores from scratch. If before there was this feeling that each scene worked as an independent element, Zaļupe helped me to obtain fluidity and uniformity. Recording the string instruments with the Sinfonietta Rīga orchestra was a magnificent experience. Creating a sense of hand-made artistry, rather than something digitally generated, was crucial in both the music and the film in its entirety.