‘Forgotten Island’: Filipino American stories are Filipino stories

October is Filipino American History Month. And when award season rolls around in early 2027, I hope Filipinos back home, Filipino Americans, and others all around the world will be cheering for DreamWorks Animation’s Forgotten Island . It was a feat — and feast — for the senses. It was a fast-paced film, packed with ’90s nostalgia, provincial life, and filled to the brim with food, cultural nuance, music, and karaoke singing. It captured everything that makes us Filipino: from our hospitality, love of family, and respect for elders to the underlying tension that comes with all that is deeply ingrained in the Filipino story.

As a Filipino American who lived in the Philippines for 10 years as a journalist — learning to speak Tagalog and improving my Cebuano to near fluency — I also noticed the Americanisms of the film, but I was not bothered by them, unlike some criticism I saw on social media. In my opinion, it did not diminish the Filipino-ness of the work. When I used to go on Twitter, I would often see the “Filipino vs. Fil-Am” discourse, which inevitably surfaced again when this film came out, although to a lesser extent than I had seen in previous years. But to me, nitpicking a character’s accent, scrutinizing the authenticity of folklore, or quibbling over “tayo na” vs. “tara na” misses the point entirely. (Both terms are accurate anyway, and anyone who thinks “tayo na” is wrong just needs to listen to more OPM. ) Because folklore isn’t even the most relatable part of the film to Filipinos. The film’s true resonance lies in the parts of the story that take place outside of the mythical island of Nakali. It is Jo’s dad calling to say he isn’t taking her to America — a painful reality for millions of Filipino children left behind by migrating parents. And it is a…