Universal PicturesIt is fitting that DreamWorks’ Forgotten Island carries a title that evokes memory and loss. The film, released globally in September, is on the surface a coming-of-age adventure about friendship.Look a little closer and it is a poignant meditation on separation, a theme that speaks deeply to the Philippines and its diaspora, whose culture for the first time takes centre stage in a major Hollywood animation.The film, co-directed by Filipino-American Januel Mercado and Joel Crawford, centres on best friends Raissa (Liza Soberano) and Jo (H.E.R.), who grow up together in the Philippines. After graduating from high school, they reach a crossroads: Raissa, a bright and nerdy student, has been accepted into a prestigious university in the United States and will migrate, while her more carefree (but secretly devastated) friend Jo will stay behind.But before they can say goodbye, the pair fall through a magical portal onto the fantastical island of Nakalimutan. There, they must evade mythical creatures inspired by Filipino folklore, including a terrifying manananggal (Lea Salonga): a shape-shifting ghoul that preys on sleeping humans. In order to escape the island, Raissa and Jo are forced to bargain with an even more frightening foe: a “memory demon” (Jenny Slate) that demands their most precious memories as the price for the passage home. As a Filipino-Australian and a mother, I felt both joy and pangs of sadness watching the story unfold. Seeing Filipino culture rendered on such a scale was moving, especially through the eyes of my seven-year-old daughter, who delighted in the film’s references to jeepney vehicles, karaoke, Tagalog phrases, Filipino music and mythology. The cast also celebrates performers with Filipino background, including H.E.R., Soberano, Salonga, Dolly de Leon and Jo Koy.Yet beyond this celebration of Filipino culture lies a more bittersweet story. As an academic who has spent two decades researching the Filipino diaspora, I was struck by the film’s underlying anxieties about memory, separation and return – concerns that echo with one of the world’s largest diasporas. Filipina teenagers Jo and Raissa fall through a portal to a mythical island populated by shapeshifting supernatural beings. Universal Pictures A story for a scattered peopleWhat do we carry with us when we leave home and what is at risk of being lost? These are the questions that animate Forgotten Island. It also speaks to the experience of migration that has become so deeply embedded in Philippine society.In search of work and a better life, close to 11 million Filipinos live outside of the Philippines. This makes the Filipino diaspora among the top ten largest in the world, spread across more than 100 countries. Jo and Raissa team up with a weredog named Raww (Dave Franco) and other creatures. Universal Pictures Filipinos have long migrated to North America as permanent settlers, reflecting the Philippines’ colonial ties to the US. But since the 1970s, migration destinations have expanded to the United Kingdom, Europe and Australia. In Australia, Filipinos are the fifth-largest migrant group and third-largest Asian community after those born in India and China.Large numbers are also temporary migrant workers in the Persian Gulf states and across Asia.Among the most prominent migrants are Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs), as they are known in the Philippines, who number around 2.5 million globally and continue to increase each year. Remittances from these migrants contribute tens of billions of dollars annually to the Philippine economy, amounting to around 8.5% of the country’s GDP in 2025.Raissa’s departure for the US reflects a deeply familiar trajectory for many Filipinos, for whom migration has become both an aspiration and a necessity. For a large number of Filipino youth, the question is not whether they will migrate, but where. Jo and Raissa must face the fearsome Manananggal (Lea Salonga). Universal Pictures The toll of migrationThe fear of forgetting that drives Forgotten Island echoes the social and emotional costs of migration.Many Filipino children grow up with one or both parents working and living overseas, and families sustain their relationships across borders through phone calls, video chats and periodic reunions. In the film, Jo is a daughter of a migrant father working overseas, left behind for her lola (grandmother) to raise.For some Filipino families, migration has fractured relationships. Children come to know their mothers and fathers primarily through the money they send home. While financial support may have become a proxy for care, it has not been able to replace the physical affection and intimacy lost through separation.Forgotten Island captures this tension with unusual sensitivity. Beneath its humour and frenetic adventure, it deals with the fragility of human connection. And as the film’s lead song, BRB, puts it: If you’ve lost all the memories and can’t find your way / I might be gone tomorrow but I’ll be right back, it’s okay / I’ll never forget you / I’ll never forget you.It’s a promise familiar to many Filipino families – even when return and reunion are uncertain.A cultural milestoneGrowing up in Australia in the 1990s, I never saw Filipino stories reflected on screen like this. I’m glad my daughter is seeing it in her time.Whatever its commercial fate, Forgotten Island has achieved something significant. In a story about remembering, loss and what survives across distance, the film becomes part of the collective memory of a diaspora connected across generations and continents.Forgotten Island is in cinemas now.Kristine Aquino receives funding from the Australian Research Council.