Reseñas de la crítica

A complicated, often horrifying recounting of Amin’s journey – unafraid to delve into the darkest corners of humanity via human traffickers and exploitative vultures – Flee looks at survivor’s guilt, sexuality, family tragedy and national identity.

It’s an ingenious way to tell a story that’s both extraordinary and commonplace: only with the teller’s anonymity tactfully preserved can the tale itself can be hauled fully into the light.

An extraordinary blend of personal reflection and inspired craft, Flee is a harrowing child’s-eye adventure that lends lyricism to the plight of migrants while showing there’s always a new way to make a documentary.

In Flee there isn’t merely trauma or joy – there’s anticipation, concern, guilt and hope too. Rasmussen brings this to life visually with warmth and care.

The decision to animate these conversations was motivated by the need to protect Amin's identity, but the film’s striking 2D animation also alludes to his deep-seated feelings of loneliness and alienation. For a film about the psychological trauma of displacement, Flee is surprisingly sweet.

Flee’s story, Amin’s story, provides for us a valuable mirror with which to understand ourselves, and our desire for meaning in an incredibly harsh universe. In sharing his story with the world, Amin and Rasmussen have given us a truly generous gift.

Brilliantly linking the film’s disparate visual elements (the animation changes to tone-on-tone chiaroscuro when Amin’s recollections become particularly fraught), adding vocal reenactments where necessary, Rasmussen creates one of the most vivid on-screen stories and characterizations in recent memory.

I think Rasmussen does Amin’s story justice and adds warmth and humanity to the subjects of asylum and immigration...

Evocatively animated in a style that is visually sparse but emotionally vibrant, with a strong sense of motion and interiority...

“Flee” is a work of great empathy for the refugee experience, bringing audiences close up to the fears of violence and repression that drove Nawabi’s family from their home and the abuse and apathy he describes that they faced once they left. More poignantly it illustrates how deeply the invisible scars can remain etched in those violently fractured from family, home and the promise of safety, even long after the journey is complete.

“Flee” is not too explicit in showing the horrors faced by Amin. But the impact of dehumanization is deeply felt.

One of the best movies ever made about the most pressing humanitarian crisis of our time, this storytelling knock-out — and Sundance Grand Jury Prize winner for World Cinema, Documentary — teems with heartrending candor and eloquent firsthand recollections often absent in more observational nonfiction pieces on the topic.