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Why ‘Forgotten Island’ deserves a Filipino American turnout

Forgotten Island Movie/Facebook

There is a difference between celebrating representation online and showing up for it when the lights go down.

DreamWorks Animation’s “Forgotten Island,” opening in U.S. theaters Sept. 25, gives Filipino and Filipino American audiences a rare opportunity to do both.

This is not simply a Hollywood animated film with a Filipino character tucked into the background or a fleeting reference to adobo, karaoke or a mythical creature.

“Forgotten Island” is an original adventure built around Philippine mythology, Filipino family life and the emotional language of friendship, memory and belonging. It brings together a notably Filipino-centered creative team and voice cast, led by Grammy and Oscar-winning singer H.E.R. and Liza Soberano, with Lea Salonga, Dolly de Leon, Manny Jacinto, Jo Koy and Filipino American actor Amielynn Abellera among the performers.

For a community accustomed to looking for itself at the margins of mainstream entertainment, that is worth more than applause. It is worth a movie ticket.

A story rooted in home

Set in the 1990s, “Forgotten Island” follows lifelong best friends Jo and Raissa, voiced by H.E.R. and Soberano. On the eve of their separation after high school, the pair share one last night of junk food and karaoke before discovering a portal to Nakali, a magical island shaped by the stories and creatures they heard growing up.

The journey sends them into a world populated by figures from Filipino folklore, including the manananggal, voiced by Salonga, and Raww, a weredog voiced by Dave Franco. But the film’s adventure premise is anchored in a more familiar emotional question: What happens when two people who grew up together realize that life is pulling them in different directions?

That focus matters. Filipino culture appears here not as a decorative backdrop but as part of the story’s foundation: its humor, food, family dynamics, old superstitions, celebrations and ways of caring for someone even while the titas are exchanging chismis nearby.

At an August media event in Manila, Filipino American co-director Januel Mercado pointed to Raissa’s despedida as a scene that captures what he wanted the film to express about Filipino closeness and hospitality. He described the mix of affection, food, family and gossip that feels instantly recognizable to many Filipino viewers: You may be talked about, but you are still fed, included and welcomed.

A Filipino creative imprint

“Forgotten Island” was co-written and co-directed by Mercado and Joel Crawford, the filmmakers behind the Oscar-nominated “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish.” For Mercado, the movie is also a major professional landmark: his feature directorial debut.

Crawford and Mercado have said their own friendship helped inspire the story. They developed the film around a shared affection for the folklore and animated stories that shaped their childhoods, then searched for a visual style that could hold both memory and myth. The result combines computer-generated animation with traditional, hand-drawn elements; Quezon City-based Snipple Animation Studios contributed 2D animation to the production.

The cultural work extends beyond the images on screen. Filipino American composer Nathan Matthew David, whose credits include “Tenet,” “Joy Ride” and “The Mandalorian,” composed the score. The soundtrack brings together Filipino performers across generations and genres, including BINI, SB19, Salonga, H.E.R. and Katseye’s Sophia Laforteza.

BINI contributes the original song “A Parallel World,” with Tagalog lyrics by Filipino American songwriter Annie Nepomuceno and production by Filipino American composer Nathan Matthew David and Shawn Wasabi. SB19 performs its own interpretation of Francis Magalona’s “Mga Kababayan,” while Filipino American artists Ruby Ibarra and Carl Angelo collaborate on “Salbahe Ako.” The soundtrack blends 1980s and 1990s pop and hip-hop influences with Filipino sonic traditions, an apt match for a story set in the 1990s and shaped by cultural memory.

A visit home

The film’s Filipino roots were apparent during the recent “Tayo Na, Philippines!” promotional visit, when Soberano, H.E.R., Mercado, Crawford and producer Mark Swift traveled to Manila for press events, a fan gathering and an advance screening. The group met fans at SM Mall of Asia on Aug. 25 as part of the film’s first international promotional stop.

For Soberano, the return carried personal meaning. She said she hoped “Forgotten Island” would be the beginning of seeing more Filipino stories on a larger international stage. Her character, Raissa, is one half of the film’s central friendship and is navigating the tender, uncertain threshold between adolescence and adulthood.

The excitement in Manila is understandable, but the U.S. release matters just as much. Filipino Americans have the numbers, the networks and the influence to make a visible opening-weekend statement. Families can bring children. Friends can make it a group outing. Community organizations can organize theater meetups. And audiences can invite non-Filipino friends not as an act of explanation, but as an invitation into a story that is already designed to be universal.

Showing up matters

No single film can represent every Filipino experience. It should not have to. “Forgotten Island” is not a referendum on whether Filipino stories deserve space in Hollywood; they do. Nor should a Filipino-inspired film be judged only by the burden of representation placed upon it.

But the commercial response to projects like this matters in an industry that measures audience interest in tickets, attendance and sustained conversation. When studios see people buying seats for stories rooted in Filipino culture, they gain evidence that these stories are not niche curiosities. They are viable, imaginative and broadly appealing.

That is why supporting “Forgotten Island” does not mean suspending critical judgment. It means recognizing the value of a film that has opened a door many Filipino and Filipino American artists have worked for years to reach. It means supporting the people who pushed for a manananggal to appear in a major studio release, who treated a despedida as central to the emotional life of a story, and who made room for Filipino voices in its cast, score and soundtrack.

The most meaningful response is also the simplest: Go to the theater. Bring family. Invite friends. Share the experience afterward. If audiences want Filipino culture to be seen more often on the mainstream screen, they have an opportunity to make that desire visible beginning Sept. 25.