"A Beautifully Animated, Life-Affirming Adventure Bursting with Heart and Imagination"

DreamWorks delivers a colourful, energetic and emotionally rewarding fantasy that celebrates the power of friendship, memory and found family.

There is something genuinely magical about animated filmmaking when spectacular visuals and heartfelt storytelling come together, and DreamWorks’ Forgotten Island is a wonderful example of precisely that.

From its opening moments, the film bursts with colour, imagination and an infectious energy that reminded me of the kinetic animation and frenetic pacing of the Spider-Verse films. Yet beneath its dazzling presentation lies something considerably more meaningful: a beautiful exploration of memory, friendship, identity and the people who make us feel that we belong.

At the centre of the story are Jo, voiced by singer-songwriter H.E.R., and Raissa, voiced by Liza Soberano, whose adventure transports them to Nakali Island, a fantastical place where myths and legends become reality.

It’s an extraordinary setting, populated by memorable characters and fascinating possibilities, and one that feels as though it has countless stories waiting to be told.

What impressed me immediately was how effortlessly the film establishes its world without sacrificing the emotional journey of its central characters. Nakali Island is wonderfully imaginative, but the real magic comes from the relationship between Jo and Raissa.

I wasn’t particularly familiar with H.E.R. as a performer before seeing the film, so I approached her portrayal of Jo without any preconceived expectations. The same was true of Liza Soberano as Raissa. Both deliver excellent performances, bringing genuine warmth, vulnerability and emotional depth to their characters.

There is so much heart in their voices, and their friendship becomes the emotional foundation upon which the entire adventure rests.

As someone who was considered the weird kid at school and experienced being picked on, I found myself particularly drawn to Jo and Raissa. Their relationship captures something profoundly relatable about finding acceptance, being understood and discovering that the people who truly matter are those who embrace you for who you are.

It’s a message that never feels forced or overly sentimental. Instead, it emerges naturally through the characters and their experiences.

The supporting voice cast is equally impressive, with Dave Franco delivering what, for me, was the film’s standout performance as Raww.

Franco is an accomplished comedic actor, although much of his work has associated him with a particular brand of irreverent, occasionally outrageous humour. Raww gives him an opportunity to demonstrate a different side of his talents, and he absolutely embraces it.

Raww is a dog who transforms into a human — essentially a wonderfully inventive reversal of the traditional werewolf — but has little control over when these transformations occur.

It’s a terrific concept, made even funnier by the fact that his canine instincts remain completely intact. His inability to resist the sight of a stick is particularly hilarious, and as a dog owner myself, I found those moments utterly delightful.

What makes Franco’s performance so effective, however, is that Raww never feels like a character included purely for comic relief. There’s a genuine personality beneath the absurdity, and Franco brings that personality to life beautifully.

Jenny Slate is another welcome addition as Batiba, a memory demon whose ability to lure mortals to Nakali Island and offer them a route home in exchange for a memory introduces an intriguing dimension to the story.

The film employs the familiar narrative device of deception and the eventual revelation of a character’s true intentions. It’s a well-trodden storytelling trope, but familiarity isn’t necessarily a weakness when the execution is this entertaining and emotionally satisfying.

Batiba is an excellent example of how an established narrative convention can still feel fresh when placed within an imaginative world and supported by strong characterisation.

Comedy is woven throughout the film, and it works wonderfully. The humour is energetic, occasionally absurd and frequently laugh-out-loud funny, but crucially, it never overwhelms the emotional stakes.

Visually, Forgotten Island is an absolute delight.

The animation is colourful, expressive and wonderfully dynamic, with a sense of movement and energy that makes the entire adventure feel alive. The filmmakers clearly understand how to use animation not simply to illustrate a story, but to enhance its personality, humour and emotional impact.

Having worked with stop-frame animation myself, I have an enormous appreciation for the patience, imagination and dedication involved in bringing animated characters and worlds to life. While the techniques may differ, that appreciation only deepens when watching something as visually accomplished as this.

The soundtrack is another tremendous strength.

Nathan Matthew David’s score complements the film’s shifting moods beautifully, while inventive remixes of familiar songs from popular culture are incorporated to excellent effect. Rather than feeling like arbitrary musical additions, they contribute to the film’s infectious energy and distinctive personality.

Yet for all its visual splendour, comedy and musical creativity, the film’s greatest achievement is its emotional payoff.

Without giving too much away, the relationship between memory and friendship becomes increasingly important as the story unfolds, culminating in a deeply touching demonstration of just how far someone will go for a person they love.

Raissa’s determination to reconnect with Jo through her memories is genuinely moving. It’s sweet, uplifting and wonderfully life-affirming, the sort of sequence that leaves you smiling and wholeheartedly rooting for the characters.

The film understands that memories are more than simply recollections of events. They help define our relationships, shape our identities and remind us where we belong.

It’s an especially beautiful message when combined with the film’s celebration of found family: the idea that belonging isn’t necessarily determined by where we come from, but by the people who choose to stand beside us.

Perhaps the greatest compliment I can pay Forgotten Island is that, having spent time on Nakali Island, I would happily return.

The filmmakers have created a fantastical world that feels rich with possibilities beyond the story being told. There are creatures, legends and mysteries that invite further exploration, yet the film never feels incomplete. Its central emotional journey is satisfying in its own right.

That’s a difficult balance to achieve, and one that makes the world-building all the more impressive.

Forgotten Island is funny, fast-paced, visually spectacular and filled with memorable characters, but above all, it has an enormous heart.

DreamWorks has delivered an excellent piece of animated storytelling that reminds us of the importance of friendship, the power of memory and the joy of finding people who accept us exactly as we are.

I went into the cinema looking forward to an imaginative animated fantasy. I came away with something considerably more meaningful.

A beautiful, uplifting adventure that proves the most extraordinary magic often comes from the people we choose to call family.