On the representation in ‘Forgotten Island’
As seen on social media, there have been posts celebrating Filipino representation in a Hollywood animated feature—by DreamWorks no less—and for them, it feels like we have a chance to finally be “on the map.”
“Forgotten Island” is a story set in an island town in the Philippines in the 1990s. It centers on two friends, Jo and Raissa (voiced by H.E.R. and Liza Soberano, respectively) who grew up different from the rest of the town. They are vibrant characters who often get into trouble (usually instigated by Jo) and are fascinated by Filipino mythology—told to them by Jo’s grandmother (Dolly De Leon). They promise to be friends forever, but as high school graduation approaches, Raissa receives a scholarship to study abroad at Caltech.
Fearing their eventual separation, they embark on one more adventure when they discover the portal to Nakalimutan, or what the girls call “Nakali,” the eponymous Forgotten Island, a land of engkantos and other mythical creatures. There, they meet all sorts of creatures including Raww (Dave Franco), a werewolf; Bungi (Manny Jacinto), a large demon baby; Batiba (Jenny Slate), a tree demon; and the Manananggal (Lea Salonga).
Loud, frenetic, and funny
“Forgotten Island” takes on the fast-paced rhythm of many of today’s animated features. It’s loud (characters are almost always shouting or screaming), frenetic (there’s always a chase or a gag), and full of funny moments peppered in with tender moments or action.
But make no mistake—this isn’t a movie about the Philippines. It’s a story centered around the friendship of two young girls and their coming of age. The best part of “Forgotten Island” is the relationship that Jo and Raissa have and how it is tested by something like separation.
Meanwhile, culturally, this is a story that is relatable. Maybe not everyone goes to the US and studies at Caltech, but friendships have been torn apart when someone leaves the province to study in Manila or vice versa. This is thematically congruent with our culture.
Our culture is not a commodity
I’m not looking for an animated movie about Filipinos that goes into a deep dive into our struggles. It might not suit the animated medium, and the themes are tackled in other films.
But what I’m hoping for is that this Hollywood film does not turn our culture into a commodity that can be thrown around to make a profit—at the expense of our country and our countrymen—and then thrown aside when the new “hip” culture comes along.
The discussion is whether the movie’s representation of Filipino culture is beneficial or disadvantageous to us—and whether our culture is empowered by it or just turned into a product that can be bought and sold by the West.
Evelyn Harper of the artist collective Dark Skies Films talks about the difference between authentic representation and tokenism. The former “demands that stories are told from the perspectives of the individuals whose experiences are being portrayed” versus the latter, which creates characters or images that “lack nuance and depth, reinforcing stereotypes instead of challenging them.”
It’s important to note that “Forgotten Island” is a Hollywood film, made by Americans (though some have Filipino roots), with the global audience as its target. The Western framing is essential here because while representation is evident, how it represents us becomes something we can be critical of and ask important questions about as well.
Punchline versus our Filipino identity
While the movie is enjoyable and definitely well-made, I found it troubling that the two main characters speak in a very comfortable, Western English, whereas many of the other Filipino characters speak English with a heavy Filipino accent.
I am not embarrassed by our accent. We are a country that is effectively bilingual (some even multilingual), and a heavy Filipino accent is just proof of a strong relationship to one’s own locale or linguistics. So why separate the protagonists from everyone else? And when you get to Nakali, why do the engkantos all speak without the Filipino accent?
There is an “othering” happening here that feels compounded by Raissa’s own dreams of going abroad so she can become an engineer. I love that Raissa wants to take on a male-dominated course (especially in the ’90s) and, yes, a lot of Filipinos believe that studying abroad is the ticket to a better life. But why does that have to be the plot of a film that uses our mythology as the backdrop?
After the first act, where we show the big Filipino celebration with the karaoke and the lechon and the multitude of family members and their intrusive opinions about our well-being, it all felt like a punchline and not something that is returned to as part of the makeup of our identity.
Yes, it’s genuine and true, but this film is showing us to the world. How come it felt like an accessory rather than the foundation of the story?
Why do we need the West to validate us?
Why are there a number of social media posts thinking that a Hollywood film rooted in Filipino culture would “put us on the map,” when we’ve been doing that for years already? How many Filipinas have won Miss Universe? Lea Salonga, Dolly De Leon, Carlos Yulo, and Manny Pacquiao have been making waves in their fields—even all the Filipinos and half-Filipinos in various singing competitions. I don’t watch “The Pitt,” but I’ve even heard about the strong Filipino representation in that show.
What I want us to question is: Why do we need the West to validate us? I question the mindset that it takes a Hollywood film for us to be proud of our culture and heritage when we’ve been doing amazing work for many, many years. Why doesn’t that seem enough for some people to think that we are world-class?
There’s a colonial mentality still prevalent that we need to get over, so that we can tell our stories and share this with the world—stories that are completely true and authentic to our experience.
I’m glad that “Forgotten Island” features our myths, but they’ve westernized some of them to make it palatable to their tastes. They’ll make toys and other merchandise and get most of the profit (if not all). I want Filipinos to benefit from this—and I hope that we do—but I definitely don’t want my culture diluted to fit other people’s tastes.
Our culture is what we made it to be. Our tiyanaks are scary; our sigbins are scary. Our kapres smoke cigars. They are rooted in our history and our beliefs.
I really like their take on the Manananggal, though.
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