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.

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.

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.

When BTS ended Justin Bieber’s reign by winning the Billboard Awards’ Top Social Artist in 2017, a year that also marked “the first big moment for K-pop on American television,” K-pop fans dared to hope. Wonder Girls had become the first Korean act to break into the American Hot 100 almost a decade earlier.

Since then, American award shows have been catching up. The AMAs created the first K-pop category in a significant U.S. awards show in 2022. However, as talented as the artists are, American producers have never been able to fully showcase K-pop with the extravagance and creative camerawork their Korean counterparts are known for. And face it: What makes music awards shows (or any awards show, for that matter) worth watching are exciting performances and unscripted moments.

So when the MAMA Awards, Korea’s biggest music awards show in scale and influence, came to the Dolby Theater in Hollywood Thursday night, it was a big deal for fans of K-pop. The massive show, which has taken place in recent years in cities across Asia, would be hosted in the U.S. for the first time in its 25-year history and spread across three days. L.A. hosted the first event in a more intimate theater setting; on Nov. 22 and 23, it’s in Osaka, Japan’s Kyocera Dome.

“It was the early 2000s when I tried to have K-pop crossover to the States,” said Park Jin-Young, or J.Y.P., as the charismatic music executive and performing legend is known, at a press conference held the morning of the show.

J.Y.P., with Grammy winner Anderson .Paak, as a special guest, was announced as one of the show’s inaugural performers. “I thought it was possible but not probable,” he says. “Back then, I always ran into someone trying to do the same thing, who made CJ ENM what it is today, Miky Lee.” CJ ENM is one of Korea’s most influential entertainment companies and producers on both KCON and the MAMA Awards.

“She has a genuine dream,” Park continues. “Not because it’s lucrative, she wants Korean culture to be disseminated throughout the world. We used to share a glass of wine at night and talk about what she wants to do and what I was doing, and 20 years later, she’s winning Academy Awards and our artists are being No. 1 on Billboard.”

When asked about his upcoming performance with Anderson .Paak, J.Y.P. alluded to a deeper reason why increased representation in America is important: It goes both ways. .Paak’s mother, a biracial Korean adoptee, was brought to the States and raised by a black American family.

He was not exposed to Korean culture until he married a Korean woman. Later on, his son Soul Rasheed’s obsession with BTS led to .Paak’s collaboration with the group, and this year, he wrote, directed and starred with Soul in “K-Pops!,” about an American musician trying to revive his career in Korea.

That said, bringing a massive multiday Korean awards show to the U.S. is a tall order. Park Chan Uk, head of CJ ENM Convention Business, was careful not to commit to a return visit, but the expansion to the U.S., particularly Los Angeles, fits in many ways.

CJ ENM, which also puts on KCON, has emphasized global expansion. This makes sense as K-pop is big worldwide, almost every group has at least one international member, and all the major labels are launching groups explicitly aimed at global audiences (J.Y.P. used the press conference to officially announce the relaunch of his American-based girl group, Vcha, in 2025). They acknowledge and make efforts to localize experiences for American fans.

J.Y.P. also emphasized tailoring experiences for local fans. This effort on the MAMA Awards launch in L.A. worked very well in some ways but was perplexing in others.

For one, the American press is used to having more access to stars. CJ ENM’s livestreaming of the show included a red-carpet interview segment hosted by American musician and media mogul Eric Nam. While beloved K-drama star Park Bo-Gum was the official show host, the bilingual Nam did the heavy lifting; his popular L.A.-based “Daebak Show” podcast has prepared him well to alternate fluidly between Korean and English.

Although rookie superstars RIIZE were included in the day’s earlier media event, questions were limited to the show itself. Aside from a couple of on-camera moments with Billboard’s Tetris Kelly, American journalists who cover K-pop regularly could not interview artists or guests on a separate red carpet, which is crucial for generating excitement, buzz and candid moments.

And while Korean producers are experts at delivering clean, high-level production value, they are much more protective of their artists’ image. This is understandable, given that fans hold Korean pop stars to higher standards of conduct. American fans love to tear down their artists, but the threshold for acceptable screw-ups is culturally different.

These differences were on display as a group of American fans of RIIZE held a banner outside the Dolby in protest of SM’s Entertainment’s handling of a predebut photo leak of member Seunghan. (Press was explicitly asked not to ask the group about the situation, the leak and its subsequent fallout.)

Dustin Hoffman was among presenters at the MAMA Awards on Thursday at the Dolby Theater.

(CJ ENM)

Advertisement

Although surprises are fun, it would have been not only good publicity to announce award presenters Dustin Hoffman, NSYNC member Lance Bass and Da’Vine Joy Randolph ahead of time but also a chance to ask about their interest in and connection with Korean culture and K-pop.

Screen legend Hoffman, who was heckled by an audience member, did say he attended KCON this year with his wife.

But still, it was the performances that mattered most. New male artist winner TWS opened with a tribute to BTS, wowing later with a buoyant school theme featuring dancers from diverse backgrounds and an endearing appearance by honors band members from Los Angeles suburb Cerritos’ Tetzlaff Junior High.

Girl group Young Posse brought the throwback hip-hop vibes, while Illit brought a fantasy stage to life with unicorn themes and intricate expanded choreography to their hypnotic hit “Magnetic.” They were later sweetly and emotionally taken aback when announced as new female artist winners.

In another poignant moment, Lee Isaac Chung, director of “Minari” and “Twisters,” presented the dance performance male group award to TWS after talking about the significance of seeing his culture represented as a second-generation kid.

RIIZE, unfazed by controversy, flanked by local dancers, performed powerhouse choreography to their hit “Get a Guitar” (Co-written by American songwriter Ben Samama), whose music video was shot in L.A., to the night’s loudest screams.

K-pop group Katseye perform at the MAMA Awards at the Dolby Theater in Hollywood.

(CJ ENM)

The stand-out performance was global girl group sensation Katseye, co-managed by Geffen Records. Along with the Los Angeles Rams cheerleaders, they blew everyone away with their commanding stage presence and on-point, intricate and athletic prowess.

Finally, the best was saved for last: J.Y.P. received the Inspiring Achievement Award. Known for his sometimes campy escapades (he’s in on the joke), he showed why he’s considered a legend. The 52-year-old runs one of the most successful entertainment companies in the world, but you can tell his first love is performing.

With a full band, he danced, sang his butt off and tickled the ivories while performing a medley of his solo hits, including the retro “Easy Lover,” finally bringing out .Paak for a funky drum solo. It was a back-and-forth musical conversation that recalled how entwined our two countries have been since the 1950s, when the Kim Sisters absorbed black American R&B to entertain U.S. soldiers, then delighted American audiences on “The Ed Sullivan Show.”

The launch of MAMA U.S. wasn’t perfect, but it was a good start. Still, both cultures crave a continuing musical conversation, and American K-pop fans deserve a night of celebration with the performance standards Korean production is known for, not just a one-off on American shows that don’t understand them. With its deep ties to Korean culture, Los Angeles is the perfect place for a permanent MAMA Awards show that better combines Korean know-how with American flair.

The documentary “The Last Republican” follows the final months in office of Congressman Adam Kinzinger, who represented two districts in Illinois over the span of 12 years. Kinzinger was one of a handful of Republicans who stood against President Donald Trump, refusing to support him in 2016, then going after him more straightforwardly after Trump lost the election of 2020 and tried to overturn the results by inciting a mob that stormed the Capitol on January 6, 2021, causing multiple deaths. Unlike other Republicans, including then-Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell and then-Speaker of the House of Representatives Kevin McCarthy, Kinzinger never walked back or even softened his position on Trump’s role in Jan. 6 in order to help position Trump for re-election and stay close to the party’s power center. Kinzinger instead made his opposition to Trump the defining part of his identity.

He started a podcast titled “Country First Conversations”” and a political action committee to fund anti-Trump candidates and later supported President Joe Biden and then Vice President Kamala Harris for president and spoke at the Democratic convention. After voting against Trump’s first impeachment, Kinzinger voted for his second impeachment and later said he regretted not voting for the first one.

He also became one of 35 Republicans to support the formation of a committee to investigate the attacks on the Capitol and served on the committee himself. There’s grimly funny segment showing House speaker Nancy Pelosi, a Democrat, announcing that Kinzinger was going to serve on the Jan. 6 committee before actually asking him, and a snippet of McCarthy casually referring to Kinzinger and another Trump critic, Wyoming Republican senator Liz Cheney, as “Pelosi Republicans.” When Cheney lost her primary in Wyoming to her former advisor Harriet Hageman—who briefly opposed Trump, then supported him again—Kinzinger accused conservative pastors of “failing their congregations” by encouraging support for Trump. He is now a CNN commentator.

The title telegraphs the point-of-view of the movie’s director, Steve Pink (“Gross Pointe Blank”). Pink is progressive who disagrees with most of what Kinzinger stands for politically (the movie opens with Kinzinger baiting Pink by calling him a “communist”). Pink positions Kinzinger as one of the last true or real Republicans, primarily because Kinzinger consistently advocated for the rule of law where Trump was concerned and, in Kinzinger’s words, put “country over party.”

This is, of course, a questionable framing, good for branding and sparking arguments on podcasts but not much else. There are plenty other examples of Republicans positioning themselves above the law at various points in the last 50 years, and it’s not as if Democrats have a spotless record in that regard either. In any given era of American history, the “true” Republicans are whichever ones define the identity of the party, and at this particular juncture, it’s not people like Kinzinger.

“The Last Republican” also mostly elides Kinzinger’s positions on various issues, seemingly to make him more palatable here as a Capra-esque hero who is exclusively defined by standing up to corruption, and against a politician that the filmmaker also opposes. (Kinzinger had a much more progressive record on anti-discrimination legislation than most Republicans, but still voted with Trump 90% of the time, blamed China for spreading COVID, and voted in 2017 to repeal parts of the Affordable Care Act.)

This is not to say that Kinzinger’s opposition to Trump isn’t evidence of integrity and a willingness to sacrifice power for principle. That’s plainly the case, and it’s driven home in a scene where Kinzinger and his wife Sofia Boza-Holman sit on a couch in their house cradling their newborn son while watching the House vote to censure Kinzinger and Cheney for serving on the Jan. 6 committee. But there’s a more nuanced movie that could’ve been made covering the same period in Kinzinger’s life, one that took fuller measure of the ancient proverb “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”—though, to be fair, the very end of the movie humorously acknowledges what strange allies Pink and Kinzinger are, at least as far as this project is concerned.

The movie also gives a strong sense of Kinzinger as a person walking against the winds of change and dealing with tendencies in the American character that elude party definitions. “Everybody’s self-centered,” he tells Pink. “That’s the fight now of my next part of life, fighting against that cynicism.”