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‘Flow’ Review: Dogs and Cats … Swimming Together … Moist Hysteria!

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‘Flow’ Review: Dogs and Cats … Swimming Together … Moist Hysteria!

There comes a moment in every animal lover’s life where we’re watching a movie with a cat in it, or a dog, or an [insert animal here], and we’re overwhelmed by one singular thought: “I swear to god, if anything happens to this creature, I will never watch a movie again.”

It’s an empty threat — probably — but in the moment nothing could be more sincere. Animals have a way of cutting through our emotional defenses. They can be jerks (my cats are literally punching each other right now) but they don’t screw each other over for money. They don’t pass legislation to deny people access to public bathrooms. In the movies, a human being is able to lose our sympathy completely, to the point that something bad happening to them feels like karmic justice. But a cat doesn’t deserve any of that crap. Ever. Ever.

So a film like “Flow” is about as harrowing as filmmaking gets, especially if you like cats. Or dogs. Or secretarybirds. Or lemurs. Or capybaras. The movie puts all these little guys in peril very quickly and never lets up. Even the quietest moments of “Flow” are tainted by existential threat. It’s suspenseful and pensive and painful in a way few films strive for, and fewer still achieve.

“Flow,” directed by Gints Zilbalodis (“Away”), tells the story of a cat who lives in the woods in a long-abandoned house. A pack of dogs, all domesticated breeds, roams these woods as well, chasing our little guy down because — well, they’re dogs. One day, all of a sudden, with almost no warning, a tidal wave crashes through the trees, and the danger won’t stop there. The water level is slowly rising, every second, until all the land starts to disappear under the rippling surface.

The only salvation is a small wooden sailboat. The cat leaps into it along with a lemur and a capybara, and they float aimlessly, foodlessly, atop the trees, over mountains, through the last sky-scraping vestiges of human civilization. The dogs come back, and the golden retriever — being a golden retriever — makes friends with everybody. A secretarybird takes pity on them and brings fish, and may even be able to protect them from other airborne predators. Whatever these animals’ differences may have been, even though they’re naturally predators and prey, even they can recognize that in the face of climate change the only way to survive is by working together. Humanity, much to our ongoing shame, would apparently never.

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It’s not a subtle message, and any movie that relies entirely on placing animals in peril isn’t subtle either. Gints Zilbalodis doesn’t merely earn our sympathy with these creatures, he practically takes it from us at gunpoint. To be perfectly frank, “Flow” is in many ways a cinematic cheap shot. Sure, it’ll knock the wind out of you, but it’s not like we had any choice. Animals are cute. Animals in danger are an emotional nuclear strike.

Of course, nobody ever said movies have to be subtle. At least, nobody credible. But “Flow” does find subtlety in its little moments, as opposed to its big messages. The major plot points — daring rescues, unexpected alliances, spiritual moments that defy any literal interpretation — are heavy-handed, yet effective. The scenes of a cat, despite its harrowing circumstances, reduced to kittenhood by the allure of bopping a lemur’s swishing tail? Now that’s relatable. That’s life going on, whether we realize it or not.

So where are the humans in “Flow?” Long gone by the time the movie begins, apparently. “Flow” floats through the remains of our society, empty towers to infinity, monuments reduced to aquatic tombs. Our conspicuous absence is depressing, but then again, if it weren’t for us, or at least whoever built the boat these animals are clinging to, there would be no hope for any animal’s salvation. Except of course for the fish. They seem to be having a field day. If they could speak you’d probably hear one of them yell “I’m king of the world!’ before getting munched on by, apparently, the world’s very last cat.

“Flow” is animated in a style that suggests that Gints Zilbalodis plays, and loves, a lot of video games. The simplistic character designs, the bright lighting, the environments filled with tall structures in the distance to keep us oriented. The nature of the world is revealed in action and detail. Its immensity is contrasted with the smallness of the characters, highlighting a breathtaking sense of scale.

“Flow” uses platforming and puzzle-solving elements to push its story forward, and before long you might get a little impatient and wonder when we’re finally going to be allowed to play. We can’t, of course, because in this story humanity is dead. The story is in so many ways about persevering in the face of overwhelming helplessness. We may never get that “Shadow of the Colossus” movie Hollywood kept threatening to make for so long, but “Flow” understood many of the storytelling lessons that particular classic had to teach us.

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Zilbalodis’s film makes a powerful double feature with this year’s “The Wild Robot,” which also tells a tale of a harrowing future in which animals have to set aside their instincts and band together to survive. Both films evoke religious imagery, although “The Wild Robot” is very much The New Testament and “Flow” is basically “Noah’s Skiff.” On the surface it may be tempting to suggest that “The Wild Robot,” being the Hollywood studio version, is the less subtle of the two, but that film has complex philosophical conversations that “Flow” can only hint at, and the commitment “Flow” has to imperiling small animals amidst a climate change allegory is anything but understated. The two films make similar points in incredibly different ways; both do a beautiful job of it.

Getting back to my earlier threat that if anything happens to the cat I’ll never watch a movie again — I can’t say everything turns out OK. Because it kind of can’t, and that’s the point. The animals in “Flow” aren’t in control of their circumstances, and it’ll be a miracle if anything — except of course for (most of) the fish — survives this aquatic apocalypse. And if they do, who knows for how long? Then again “Flow” is itself a bit of a miracle, so maybe there’s hope. If not for us, then at least for the innocent creatures who have to live in the crappy world we’ve made for them.

So if anything does happen to this cat, or this dog, or this secretarybird, or this lemur, or this capybara … we have only ourselves to blame.

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Movie Reviews

Ravi Teja’s Bhartha Mahasayulaku Wignyapthi Movie Review

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Ravi Teja’s Bhartha Mahasayulaku Wignyapthi Movie Review
Movie Name : Bhartha Mahasayulaku Wignyapthi

Release Date : Jan 13, 2026
123telugu.com Rating : 2.75/5
Starring : Ravi Teja, Ashika Ranganath, Dimple Hayathi, Sunil, Satya, Vennala Kishore, Tarak Ponnappa, Muralidhar and Others
Director : Kishore Tirumala
Producer : Sudhakar Cherukuri
Music Director : Bheems Cecireleo
Cinematographers : Prasad Murella
Editor :  A Sreekar Prasad
Related Links : Trailer

Mass Maharaja Ravi Teja returns to the big screen with Bhartha Mahasayulaku Wignyapthi, which has released today as a Sankranthi special. Ashika Ranganath and Dimple Hayathi play the female leads. Read on to know how the film fares.

Story:

Ram Satyanarayana (Ravi Teja), who manufactures the alcohol brand Anarkalee, travels to Spain after it is rejected by a wine company owned by Manasa Shetty (Ashika Ranganath). The trip leads to a romance, but Ram returns to India to his possessive wife, Balamani (Dimple Hayathi). Problems begin when Manasa arrives in India, leaving Ram Satyanarayana caught between the two women, and the film follows how he navigates the situation and brings it to a resolution.

Plus Points:

Ravi Teja steps away from his usual mass persona and opts for a calm, restrained role laced with style and situational comedy. While this is familiar territory for him, his effortless screen presence and comic timing make the character work once again.

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Ashika Ranganath looks appealing and gets a role with a fair emotional arc. Her scenes with Ravi Teja are pleasant and register well. Dimple Hayathi, cast as the possessive wife, does an average job and fits the requirement of the role.

Comedy is largely driven by Satya in the opening portions, and his track works effectively. After his exit, Sunil takes charge and delivers humour in his trademark style. Together, their portions ensure a fairly engaging first half. Vennela Kishore also contributes with his reliable comic timing.

Minus Points:

The biggest drawback is the story itself. The core conflict of a man trapped between his wife and girlfriend has been explored countless times, and this film offers little novelty beyond fresh casting. The narrative, humour, and emotional beats follow a predictable pattern. The second half, in particular, had ample scope to deepen the conflict between Ravi Teja, Ashika, and Dimple Hayathi, but the writing fails to capitalise on it.

Director Kishore Tirumala manages the first half competently, but the film loses momentum after the interval. The drama feels artificial, and the comedy turns ineffective. Predictability becomes a major issue as the film progresses.

While the humour is reasonably engaging in the first half, it falls flat in the latter portions. The second half struggles to generate laughs, and the climax is simplistic with minimal emotional payoff. A stronger blend of comedy and drama could have at least elevated the film to a passable level.

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Tarak Ponnappa’s track brings nothing new and feels like a filler in the narrative. The Vammo Vayyo song and the remix of the Karthika Deepam and Pinni serial tracks are aimed at mass audiences but appear suddenly and do not flow well with the story.

Technical Aspects:

Kishore Tirumala attempts to package a routine storyline with humour and emotion, but the execution remains inconsistent. While a few moments click, the overall impact, especially in the second half, is underwhelming.

Prasad Murella’s cinematography is serviceable. Sreekar Prasad’s editing needed to be sharper, as trimming several redundant scenes would have improved the film’s pace. Bheems Ceciroleo’s music is passable, though the background score fails to leave a strong impression. Production values are adequate.

Verdict:

On the whole, Bhartha Mahasayulaku Wignyapthi ends up as a familiar drama with sporadic moments of entertainment. Ravi Teja delivers a composed performance, Ashika Ranganath looks good, and Satya, Sunil, and Vennela Kishore provide some relief. However, the predictable narrative, forced drama, and weak second half significantly dilute the impact. With tempered expectations, the film can be watched for its performances and humour.

123telugu.com Rating: 2.75/5

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Reviewed by 123telugu Team 

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Movie Reviews

Unpaarvayil Movie Review: A By-The-Book Psycho Thriller That’s Blind To Its Flaws

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Unpaarvayil Movie Review: A By-The-Book Psycho Thriller That’s Blind To Its Flaws
0

The Times of India

TNN, Jan 13, 2026, 1:24 PM IST

2.0

Un Paarvayil Movie Synopsis: When her twin sister dies under mysterious circumstances, Bhavya goes on a hunt to find the murderer, but the fight isn’t easy as she loses her vision.Un Paarvayil Movie Review: The opening sequence of Un Paarvayil reminds one of a few finely written scenes from films about twins like Charulatha (2012) or Thadam (2019) where we learn about their special bond. In Un Paarvayil, Bhavya (played by Parvati Nair) gets on stage to receive the Best Business Woman award. Parallely, her twin, Dhivya (also played by Parvati Nair), is stuck in a dangerous situation. As the latter faces difficulty, Bhavya, who is on stage, also feels like she is being choked and struggles to breathe – an instant telepathy of sorts that suggests her sister is in danger. Without a lot of words or too many scenes, this one sequence conveys the bond between the sisters Bhavya and Dhivya. However, this narrative creativity is never seen on screen again throughout the film’s run time.Everything about Un Paarvayil is right on paper. With a textbook formula, Un Paarvayil has the right recipe for a psycho thriller – a scary bungalow, a loving but mysterious husband, and a psycho killer. But that’s about it. The stage is set, writing is done, and actors deliver the dialogues, but these don’t come together cohesively. In most scenes, the dialogue delivery is bland, and the writing becomes increasingly predictable. For instance, Bhavya is informed very early on in the film that Dhivya has a best friend with whom she shares all her secrets. However, the writing is so contrived that until the last moment, Bhavya never thinks about reaching out to this friend to learn more about her sister. It’s as though Bhavya forgot that piece of the puzzle.Which is why it feels like the film suffers from progressive amnesia. For instance, at one point, it looks like the cops give lethargic explanations for a murder, but we are not sure if they are just lethargic or are partners-in-crime with the psycho killer. And we keep wondering – but we never get to know that because the film has forgotten such a sequence existed. Likewise, Bhavya learns about an important CCTV evidence and pursues it. Still, before she uncovers the truth, she begins to track down another clue, and the CCTV evidence is never mentioned again. Remember how we see the twins share a unique connection in the opening sequence? It is also depicted only once and gets forgotten. Just like this, the film keeps jumping from one sequence to another, with all the old clues left behind and forgotten, before another new clue randomly reaches Bhavya. So, the next time we find a missing puzzle, we are no longer curious about it.That said, the film did have some interesting scenes. Whenever the psycho killer is on screen, the tension rises, and we are hooked to what’s next – but such sequences are very few. By the book, it might look like the film has a perfect premise, and some really good performances from Parvati Nair and Mahendran do make things intriguing, but the film turns a blind eye to its basic cinematography and contrived writing, leaving us in the dark for the most part.

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Film Review: “Primate”

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Film Review: “Primate”

Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!

Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.

I am a sucker for a good ape movie. I’ve been obsessed with Planet of the Apes for literally decades, and I continue to find apes both fascinating and more than slightly terrifying, particularly chimps. Of course, the news has been filled with stories of pet chimps (and their own owners) going amuck, as the recent series Chimp Crazy makes clear. Indeed chimps in particular are eternally coming up in our popular culture. In addition to Planet of the Apes, Jordan Peele’s Nope featured a chimp attack as a key part of its story, suggesting that our dear simian relatives are an enduring source of fear and fascination for us. They seem so understandable and yet so utterly alien, and what better way to make sense of, or at least experience, this contradiction through the vernacular of horror?

This brings us to Primate, the new slasher film from director Johannes Roberts (who co-wrote the script with Ernest Riera). Arguably the emotional center of the story is Lucy (Johnny Sequoyah), who returns home to her family’s isolated cliffside mansion in Hawaii, where she’s reunited with her father, sister, and the family’s friendly chimp companion Ben, along with some other equally bland personalities. It soon turns out that poor Ben has been infected with rabies and, sans treatment, he soon goes on a rampage, quickly turning from cuddly and affectionate to sadistic and murderous. It’s all Lucy and her sister and the rest of the gang can do to stay alive (spoiler alert: almost none of them make it out alive).

Primate is undeniably gripping. Roberts is a skilled visual stylist, and he has a keen command of space, lighting, and sound. A number of wide shots show us just how isolated the family home is from anywhere around, situated on a bluff that offers no easy escape once Ben becomes murderous, while dim lighting effectively creates a nightmare landscape from one which our protagonists cannot escape. Of equal note is an unsettling scene in which Ben presses his face up against some distorting glass, creating a nightmarish image that will stick with you as his murderous rage grows. Even props have their part to play, from the speech device that Ben uses to convey his feelings–which becomes ironic later in the film–to a broken chair that becomes key to his demise. Adrian Johnston’s soundtrack, likewise, helps to keep your nerves constantly jangled as you wait for the next bout of slaughter to unfold, and I appreciated a scene in which Lucy’s deaf father, played by Troy Kotsur, returns home, even as the film muffles sounds so we inhabit his deafness. The juxtaposition of silence with Ben’s renewed attacks on Lucy is quite effective.

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In my opinion, every horror movie worth its salt has one kill that’s both exceptionally gnarly and also deeply disturbing, and in this regard Primate does not disappoint. The unfortunate victim in this case is Drew, one of the dude-bros from the airplane that Lucy and her friends meet right at the beginning who, upon encountering Ben in the bedroom, has his jaw ripped right off. There’s something almost poignant about the way his eyes continue to dart around, filled with an anguished knowledge that death is imminent as he chokes on his own blood. It’s also bleakly funny, as Ben, seeming to sense his victim’s dismay and to find humor in it, uses the detached jaw to mock his anguished gurgling and then, as if that weren’t enough, almost seeming to try to reattach the torn-off jaw (the resulting sound of teeth clacking against bone is viscerally unsettling). It’s a brilliantly-executed piece of horror cinema and this scene alone was worth the price of admission, though I did find myself wishing we had more scenes like this, as perverse as that sounds.

As other critics have noted, the script is at times a bit too lean, particularly when it comes to giving these characters or even providing much insight into Ben as a character prior to his infection. It’s not that this is necessarily a requirement, but as a fan of both chimps and Planet of the Apes, I kept hoping for at least some gesture toward helping us to feel the barest bit of sympathy for Ben, a creature brought into the human world and then turned into a monster by a force he has no control over. Fortunately, there are at least a few moments when we see the anguish he’s in, and there are even some signs he knows something is wrong, even if he can’t quite comprehend why he’s now filled with such murderous rage.

When it comes down to it, there’s just something uniquely terrifying and appealing about chimps, which helps to explain why we keep returning to them again and again in popular culture. As one of our closest living relatives–and as some of the most intelligent nonhuman animals–they hover in a strange liminal space, both eerily like and unlike us. This is particularly true in a film like Primate, which relies on practical effects and puppetry rather than CGI (except for some moments). Miguel Torres Umba does a fantastic job inhabiting Ben, and the practical effects may not make Ben into as realistic an ape as, say, Caesar from Planet of the Apes, but he’s definitely more terrifying. For all that he’s a killing machine, there are glimmers of a not-quite-human intelligence lurking behind those eyes, which is precisely what makes him such a dangerous enemy once the rabies-induced madness starts to take over.

And that, ultimately, is the irony of Ben going mad. As the tragic case of Charla Nash made clear back in 2009, even the tamest and most human-acculturated chimps are only one mild disturbance or moment from tearing a person apart. Even though the film doesn’t go too deeply into Ben’s backstory, there’s enough there to glean that he was, for all intents and purposes, raised as a human, and there are just enough glimpses of who he was to make us feel the pangs of sympathy for this creature forced to live in a human world for which is so manifestly ill-suited. Just like Travis, he’s a bit of the untamed wild just waiting to destroy the fragile human family and the civilization built atop it.

Primate is one of those genre-horror flicks that wears its influences on its sleeve, and one can see strands of everything from Cujo to “The Murders of the Rue Morgue”in its plot, themes, and execution. Its success owes much to Roberts’ skills as a filmmaker, his ability to take tried and true elements of the genre and use them in ways that hold us rapt and make us grip the arms of our chairs in terror. This film burrows deep in your brain and doesn’t let go, and I can’t wait to see what Roberts has in store for us next.

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