Filipino Canadian Tricia Serdon grew up watching Disney movies and searching for a princess who looked like her. She never quite found one.
That changed with Forgotten Island.
“I think it’s such a great love letter to Filipinos,” says Serdon, a marketing co-ordinator in Toronto.
The film, produced by Dreamworks Animation and released on Sept. 25, is the first major Hollywood animated feature to place Filipino culture and mythology at its centre. It follows Jo and Raissa, two childhood friends whose paths diverge when Raissa leaves the Philippines to attend college in the U.S., while Jo stays behind.
WATCH | The official trailer:
As the two friends navigate the pain of separation, they are eventually drawn into Nakali, a fantasy world populated by supernatural figures, adapted from folklore told in the Philippines for centuries. The name “Nakali” is a play on nakalimutan, or Tagalog for “forgotten.”
Though inspired by ancient tales, the setting is a creative reimagining rather than a direct adaptation.
A rich, lesser-known mythology
Nakali is not a traditional place from Filipino folklore. In the film, it is an imagined portal into the mythology itself — a place where Jo and Raissa encounter stories, creatures and memories carried across generations.
Among them are the manananggal, a vampiric creature whose upper body separates from its lower half and flies through the night, and the kapre, a dark, bearded giant that dwells in the forest.
Serdon, who was born in the Philippines, grew up hearing stories about these creatures. She says seeing them brought to life on the big screen was thrilling and deeply personal.
“The accuracy — I was very impressed,” she told CBC News. “Sometimes it gets lost in translation, or even the pronunciation is never truly … accurate. But this film I think did a really great job.”
The co-directors — Januel Mercado, who is Filipino American, and Joel Crawford — have wanted to tell a story about Filipino culture for years.
“We wanted to tell a Filipino story or make a movie set in the Philippines. We’re like, ‘Wow, they have this rich mythology,'” Mercado said. “And that’s something we don’t see that much.”

Crawford says the creatures in the film are also metaphors for the characters’ emotional struggles, pointing to the weredog as an example.
A Filipino weredog is a mythical creature that transforms from a human into a giant, fierce dog at night. It is considered a type of aswang, a predatory monster.
The creature’s involuntary transformation reflects the uncertainty of adolescence and the search for identity, Crawford says.
WATCH | Filipino party scene in Forgotten Island:
“In this coming-of-age story, we kind of treat it like puberty in a way,” he said. “You can use this amazingly specific creature, the weredog, to go, ‘Is he a human? Is he a dog? Is he a weredog?'”
With the support of his friends, the character eventually begins to understand who he is.
Mercado admits the film only scratches the surface of the Philippines’ vast lore. He recalls earlier drafts that were “overstuffed” with creatures, eventually prioritizing story over spectacle.
The filmmakers hope the movie will inspire audiences to seek out more Filipino stories and encourage other Filipino creators to bring their interpretations to global audiences.
Familiar rhythms of family life
Beyond the magic, the film captures the familiar rhythms of Filipino family life.
One scene depicts a party where young children run around while relatives make sure everyone has enough food. Karaoke plays in the background, and titas and titos — aunts and uncles — trade jokes and observations.
For many viewers, this offers a rare portrayal of Filipino culture that isn’t defined by hardship, but by humour, music and food.

Serdon says she was moved to tears by a sharp sense of recognition within the first 15 minutes, particularly struck by a scene where Jo’s lola, or grandmother, comforts her after she receives bad news.
She says she could also connect to the friendship at the heart of the film. Like Raissa, many Filipinos leave their home country to go abroad for new opportunities, often leaving behind loved ones.
“In the Philippines, you grow up being in the same class as everyone until you graduate,” she said. “I miss my friends who I grew up with in the Philippines, and I just relate to the friendship [in the film] so much that I wish I could have watched it with my childhood friends that are back home.”
Pop culture critic Rachel Ho says this kind of cultural specificity is what makes the film universal. “It makes the storytelling that much more authentic,” she told CBC News.

Behind-the-scenes representation
The film’s commitment to representation extended behind the scenes, as well. The voice cast features a powerhouse lineup of Filipino talent, including singers H.E.R. and Lea Salonga, along with actors like Manny Jacinto and comedian Jo Koy.
Manila-based Snipple Animation handled the 2D-animated flashbacks.
“It was important to us. We would love to have as many Filipino artists, Filipino Americans and homegrown artists from the Philippines be a part of this,” Mercado said.

Michaelangelo Masangkay, co-founder of the Siné Institute, a non-profit organization in Toronto that champions Filipino cinema and filmmakers, emphasizes that representation must extend beyond the screen.
“It’s really important for us to be able to get into that decision-making matrix to be able to say, ‘Take a chance on this. This is what is authentic,'” he said.
Stars Liza Soberano and H.E.R., along with directors Januel Mercado and Joel Crawford, reflect on Forgotten Island’s themes of friendship, family, ambition and Filipino mythology at the animated film’s premiere in Los Angeles.
Reflecting on her childhood search for a Disney princess who looked like her, Serdon hopes the next generation of young Filipinos won’t have to search so hard.
“To dress up as someone for Halloween, I want children to be inspired … now, they can do Raissa and Jo for a costume or a manananggal, for example, if they want more of a villain,” she joked.
That is the possibility Forgotten Island leaves behind — not simply that Filipino audiences will finally see themselves reflected on screen, but that the next Filipino story will not have to wait so long to be told.


