MANILA, Philippines — I have always appreciated the way music affects a movie, especially when it becomes part of the storytelling. So, when I first saw the teasers and trailers for “Forgotten Island,” accompanied by Simple Minds’ Don’t You (Forget About Me), I was immediately hooked. Any movie, even an animated one, that pays homage to the coming-of-age 1980s cult classic “The Breakfast Club” gets my vote.
After finally seeing the nearly two-hour film, DreamWorks Animation’s latest did much more than earn my vote. It won me over.
“Forgotten Island” is a beautifully paced fantasy adventure that places Philippine culture and folklore firmly into the Hollywood mainstream, much as “Coco” did for Mexican culture, “Moana” for Polynesian culture and “Encanto” for Colombian culture.
Directed by Joel Crawford and Filipino-American filmmaker Januel Mercado, the story follows the adventures of two Filipino teenagers, Jo and Raissa, as they are magically transported from a coastal town to the mythical world of Nakali. There, they make new friends (as well as a few enemies), but their own friendship is also put to the ultimate test. Without revealing too much, I can safely say that the film delivers a heartwarming story culminating in a satisfyingly classic happy ending.
For me, the music is one of the film’s great pleasures. Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’, Starship’s Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now and INXS’ Never Tear Us Apart (including a cover by Sophia of KATSEYE) are used not merely as background music but as storytelling devices, evoking Filipinos’ passion for karaoke, communal revelry and inseparable friendship. Other contributions from H.E.R., BINI, Liza Soberano (A Parallel World), SB19 (Mga Kababayan) and Carl Angelo and Ruby Ibarra (Salbahe) add further Filipino flavor to an already eclectic soundtrack.
The voice cast is equally impressive. Multi-Grammy winner H.E.R. (whose real name is Gabriella Sarmiento Wilson) lends her voice to Jo (the artist). Liza Soberano, the Filipino lead voice actor in the Netflix adaptation of the Pinoy mythology graphic series “Trese,” shines as Raissa (the whiz kid). Other Filipinos in the mix include legendary homegrown icons Lea Salonga and Dolly de Leon, as well as comedian Jo Koy and Manny Jacinto, famous for his role in Star Wars’ The Acolyte series.
The film’s animation style pays tribute to Filipino komiks and jeepney art, 1990s graphic design and even the Philippines’ long history of outsourced anime production. This essentially creates a virtual cinematic fiesta, a colorful, cacophonic mixture of Filipino cultural references, patriotic symbols, food and folklore that somehow works despite, or perhaps because of, the sheer variety of ingredients. The Philippine flag is everywhere, while the sun, sand dollar and portal to Nakali cleverly echo its imagery. A jeepney and tricycle, a balisong (fan knife), arnis, tinikling, tilapia, sporks and religious icons all find their way into the visual landscape. Then there is the food: lechon, lumpia, halo-halo and coconut served in its shell.
More revealing are the social details: karaoke; embarrassing slideshows at family celebrations; the deferential ritual of mano po; the importance placed on education; and the pressure on children deemed talented or intelligent to “make it” in life, preferably with a foreign education. Adding the frequently uttered “Tayo na!” (Let’s go!) into the pot makes the whole dish simply exotic.
The film also draws heavily on Philippine mythology, with the sarimanok playing an important role in the story and a delightful collection of creatures populating Nakali: the memory-stealing batibat Batiba, were-dog Raww, the supersized tiyanak Bungi, Datu Kapre, dwende king Truffle Wuffle and Prince Mermahn.
There is also a layer of 1990s nostalgia that reaches beyond the Philippines. Calculator watches, Bic pens, boom boxes, cassette tapes and Polaroid cameras give the film a tangible sense of period, while reinforcing its themes of youth and everlasting friendship.
People unaware of Filipino culture may be overwhelmed by the allegory, which gives “Nakali” a meaning other than “nakalimutan” (forgotten), i.e., “nakalilito” (confusing). But that’s not the producers’ problem.
The one negative in my book is the language. The dialogue remains predominantly English, with only a smattering of Filipino expressions, and many characters speak with distinctly American accents. Anyone familiar with Philippine English knows that it has its own cadence, rhythm and local flavor. Bypassing resident voice talents for most of the scenes supposedly set in the Philippines feels like a creative misstep for a film that otherwise celebrates Pinoy identity so beautifully.
The special screening at SM Mall of Asia ScreenX, sponsored by the US Embassy in Manila as part of Freedom 250 (celebrating the 250th anniversary of US independence and the 80th anniversary of US-Philippine relations), added another layer to my viewing pleasure: a 270-degree multi-projection presentation that perfectly suited the film’s colorful, energetic animation.
What’s not to like? Excellent storytelling, great music, brisk pacing, impressive animation, unabashed Pinoy pride and a genuine people-to-people connection between the US and the Philippines.
And free snacks.
I went in expecting an entertaining animated adventure. I came out with something much more memorable: a genuinely Hollywood production with a distinctly Filipino heart.
The lore of Nakali leaves the door wide open for expansion. A prequel could explore the foundational, maybe tragic backstory between Manang (why she became mean) and Jo’s Lola (why she went to but eventually left Nakali). Additionally, an origin story unmasking the island’s endearing cryptids could easily anchor a franchise and quite possibly generate a deluge of merchandise. It could also present the perfect opportunity to finally cast local voice actors to make it as authentic as chicken-pork adobo.
As Ariel sang in rival Disney’s “The Little Mermaid:” “I want more.”