‘Forgotten Island’ Review: A Frantic, Folklore-Rich Animated Adventure Inspired by Filipino Mythology

Joel Crawford and Januel Mercado’s “Forgotten Island” is a heartfelt yet exhaustively frenetic DreamWorks Animation comedy. It remixes the chaotic energy of “The Hangover,” the nostalgia of “Superbad,” and the whimsy of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” into a rave-like children’s adventure deeply rooted in Filipino folklore.

This is a touching story about memory and friendship, showcasing the studio behind “How to Train Your Dragon” and “Kung Fu Panda” doubling down on the raw emotionality that defined “The Wild Robot.” It is also a manic cartoon that gleefully throws in a joke about the Will Smith–Chris Rock Oscar incident, a nod to the studio’s “Shrek” roots. Offering a heavily researched yet kid-friendly glimpse into a culture Hollywood has rarely explored, the film is an anime-inspired piece of cultural syncretism that repeatedly incorporates actual footage from the Arnold Schwarzenegger classic “Predator.”

The film also features Dave Franco voicing a “cool pubescent weredog”—a phrase no human has ever typed before—who uncontrollably transforms into a tiny chihuahua whenever he gets too close to a stick.

As mentioned, there is a lot happening—often, frequently, too much. However, it is hard to complain about abundance when most animated films lack enough substance. Although “Forgotten Island” is relentless, distractible, and overstuffed to a degree that dilutes its core message and muddles its basic plot principles, none of its lovingly sourced ingredients lose their fundamental flavor.

Ironically, “Forgotten Island” is at its most lucid and affecting during the mad frenzy of its Manila-set first act, a pace even more insane than the rest of the film. The story launches with a kinetic energy that beautifully captures the thrill of a great childhood friendship. Set in the early 1990s—before texting, with INXS dominating the airwaves—a violently imaginative tween orphan named Jo (voiced by musician H.E.R.) is one detention away from expulsion after going overboard on a creative writing assignment. Inspired by tales from her grandmother Lola (Dolly de Leon) about a mythical island called Nakalimutan, Jo is particularly drawn to Manang (Lea Salonga), a dreaded flying vampire-like creature capable of separating her body at the hips to stalk prey from both sides.

The teacher is not a fan—and parents should be warned that Manang is pure nightmare fuel when she eventually appears—but another student is delighted by the vivid darkness of Jo’s presentation. Her name is Raissa (Liza Soberano), a bookish girl from a wealthier neighborhood. From the moment they high-five over their shared love of “maximum dismemberment,” the two are utterly inseparable. Crawford and Mercado race through the formative years of their heroines’ friendship in a vibrant blur of crazy misadventures and full-throated karaoke, with Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin'” serving as a recurring motif, all set against a day-glo Manila rendered with the halcyon sweetness of a memory.

The energetic montage continues until the girls finish high school, at which point Raissa reveals she is quietly heading to college halfway across the world at Caltech. This news conflicts sharply with Jo’s life plan of working at a fast-food restaurant and remaining roommates with Raissa forever. Though both are rattled by the prospect of separation, a healthy friendship is better sustained by the magic of shared memories than by the fear of being forgotten.

Of course, this is a tricky concept for a teenager—or a grown-up—to accept. Luckily, the girls are spirited away to Nakalimutan on the eve of Raissa’s departure. Returning home before the plane takes off will require them to utilize their special bond fully and make peace with the fact that nothing, not even a memory-eating Ilocano demon voiced by Jenny Slate, can undo the time they spent together.

When Jo and Raissa are swallowed through a sand dollar-shaped portal to the magical island from Lola’s stories, the girls are less alarmed by where they are than by when. The sun has risen, Raissa’s flight is imminent, and neither remembers the previous night—though the crown on Jo’s head, the demon wings gripping Raissa’s shoulders, and the fact that every creature on Nakali seems to have some beef with them suggest the BFFs had quite an eventful time. Returning home requires them to retrace their steps, reunite with the “Wild Pack” of party monsters they have already forgotten (matching tattoos involved), and find the key to reopening the portal.

Do not expect a clear sequence of events as Jo and Raissa work toward finding the MacGuffin. “Forgotten Island” moves too quickly to explain where it is going, as the script prioritizes how each girl feels about the journey over a logical itinerary. Fortunately, Nakali is a delightful place for a whirlwind tour—a bright storybook fantasia of cyan and magenta whose forests, temples, and craggy shores house an eye-popping ecosystem of mythological creatures, or “Aswang,” as they are broadly referred to in Filipino folklore. This is DreamWorks, not Studio Ghibli, meaning the spirits do not seem to have their own lives so much as they transparently exist for the benefit of the characters or a couple of slapstick sight gags, but at least children will never lack something new to look at.

The characters ensure that children never run out of things to see. Thematically linked to Jo and Raissa by his own insecurities, Raww—Franco’s giddy weredog—is a shape-shifting loner desperate to hold onto his newfound human friends, even though (or especially because) he cannot even hold onto himself. While “Forgotten Island” may not meaningfully develop this emotional connection, Franco lends Raww the perfect mix of cartoon eagerness and vulnerability, and the “spontaneous transformation” concept serves as a clever way of externalizing how feelings can take on a life of their own.

The other Aswang encountered along the way reflect Jo and Raissa’s predicament to a more nebulous extent. One is Bungi Tiyanak (voiced by Manny Jacinto), a three-eyed, eight-foot-tall, 200-year-old baby so attached to his mother that she must literally sever her umbilical cord to join their JRPG party; his arc gestures toward the necessity of leaving home to stand on one’s own feet. I am less certain how the forgettable tree giant Datu (Jo Koy) or the dehydrated Prince Mermahn (Kevin McCann as a shriveled water ghoul who puffs up into a vain merman with too much lip filler and “a photogenic memory” whenever he gets wet) contour the main characters.

Still, even the most adorable of these creatures—Duwende King Truffle Wuffle, voiced by Ronny Chieng, whose fearsome warrior tribe is betrayed by their adorability—contribute to the film’s cohesive sense of folklore and underline the extent to which Filipino culture has been overlooked by Hollywood storytelling, for better or worse.

None of the film’s creatures are truer to the folklore or more acutely reflective of Jo and Raissa’s drama than the villainous Manang. Her ability to split herself in half makes for a neat and gnarly effect, but also viscerally illustrates the violence of the girls’ impending separation. Keeping Manang in the shadows for most of the story is typical of mainstream animation, where villains are often little more than malformed ideas made flesh, but at least the heroes here feel like people who exist to do more than serve a theme.

Jo and Raissa leap off the screen, even when the film around them threatens to bury the girls under an avalanche of loud elements. While the plot of “Forgotten Island” frequently moves too fast, distracting from the purity of its central friendship, the movie always holds together—by something more than centrifugal force—because the bond shared by its co-leads is strong enough to withstand the chaos.

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