A Rocketship to Friendship in The Forgotten Island (2026)

When a teenager youth named Jo (H.E.R.) is not believed for a life story she inherits wisdom-wise from her grandmother Lola Fatima (Dolly de Leon), she stealthily goes to where a car is parked and removes what is useful mechanically for building a rocket. Her best teenager friend Raissa (Liza Soberano) is an aspiring astrophysicist genius. She builds a rocket from the reallocated car miscellaneous.

Meaning the car belongs to a teenage bully named Reynaldo who will no longer drive around not believing thus mocking Jo’s creative reality based on Filipino folklore. Yet the antagonism catapults a goodness found in lifelong female friendship. Of the two friends Raissa is seen from Cal Tech’s perspective as an exceptional college student to accept because she built a rocket. Life’s difficulty detritus often inspires us. Years later Jo shapes her creative reality into a book’s narrative where she gives a reading while her still best friend Raissa listens intently in a front row audience seat at Cal Tech. Each woman working her strengths, as gifted and rocketed over time, encouraged in their lasting friendship.

In theaters now is the movie The Forgotten Island (2026) telling a fiction story to remind ourselves in a modern nonfiction era how friendship is always the point. During the film’s rolling credits, dozens of real-life photos of contemporary people in friendships are shown over the rocket course of lifetimes. Shown in the movie is an ancient Polaroid camera printing paper photos instantly to remind Jo and Raissa how their best night on a glorious island had celebrated. Their memories have been swiped gone through a character called Memory Demon or Manang (Lea Salonga). A fiction Polaroid, a nonfiction Polaroid, art imitating life and life imitating art are the friendship snapshots shown on a theater screen. In the film credits real-life friends are youthful in one photo and years later still connecting in another photo as older adults.

The story’s thematic center propels once Jo gets the phone call. Her parents are not returning for her from America. She is now establishing her home in the Philippines, with her grandmother Lola, who reminds her that friends are family. Jo decides Ryssa can be her forever family-friend. Inherited on Ryssa’s side of the friendship is a penchant for karaoke gifted generationally from her father. When Jo and Ryssa portal travel to a mythical Nakali island turned real, a wild-adventure night has a karaoke platform on which they are singing Journey’s song lyrics to “don’t stop believing, don’t ever lose that feeling.” The movie is an anthem for girls growing into women to never stop believing in themselves, the recalled feeling to be empowered daily.

At the plot’s core is Memory Demon, she who has forgotten how to be empowered. Rather she labors a dog-human character Raww (Dave Franco) who lures island dwellers into her cave where she steals their memory like with Jo and Ryssa. The movie keeps a plot twisty when Jo capitulates to Memory Demon allowing an exchange: she’ll hand her memory over if Memory Demon allows Raissa to go freely on her way to college. A battle royale ensues in glorious animation movie style with an ending where Memory Demon now wears Jo’s vibrantly colored high-top sneakers standing at the cave’s entrance ready to exit for the first time.

A strategic gift to walk in Jo’s brave shoes for even Memory Demon can take determined steps into her own light out of the cave’s darkness. And while a vicious female vampire slayer terrorizes the island, an engrained character to the island’s lore, she has her purple gem rock necklace returned, a memory restored to end her theft of an authentic life. She has her strength back for flying on decisive wings rather than destructive.

This morning upon awakening I read a selection from a meditation book. Mary Casey wrote Each Day a New Beginning, Daily Meditations for Women in 1982. I’m reading the 40th Anniversary Edition published in 2022. Four million copies have been sold as of that year. A book reading statistic that exists because women often encounter familiar patterns over the decades of time lapsing. Today’s October 23 reminds us “how burdened we became, as little girls, with the labels applied by parents, teachers, even school chums.” Truthfully so with school classmates and teachers and principals having influence on Jo and Raissa.

Casey describes that “try as we might to forget the criticisms, the names, they linger in our memories and influence our self-perceptions as adults” (322). Watching this movie The Forgotten Island by directors Januel Mercado and Joel Crawford is vital for families who are raising daughters, who are raising sons, who have parents recognizing their influence on the youth they are raising. When I encouraged my family to go see The Forgotten Island, I was tired.

On a Sunday in which I could have been idle and resting (powerful, too), my intuition guided me to continue a cinema effort. My teenager son Darien, who recently achieved 16 years old a few days ago, was reluctant. Yet I had seen the movie’s trailer showing strong female characters. I had a lesbian sensibility to go anyway. My “younger” brother, who is 60 years old while I am 61 years old, joined as well. All of us seeing the movie together is creative method to continually strengthen our shared conversation on how empowering women look. And all-inclusive since diverse characters are created throughout the movie.

Reflecting on last week’s movie The Kids Are All Right I keep a framework that my being a lesbian Mama has social influence everywhere I gratefully go. Casey concludes in today’s meditation, “Our own thoughts and words, our own labels can become as powerful as those of our youth. It takes practice to believe in ourselves. But we can break the past’s hold on us.” What I discover in cinema are characters who are showing inspiringly how to reinvent an empowered life, a womanly life, a lesbian divine life.

“Grubby Bitches” Are an Economy Way Lesbian Moms Stay Married

When heard aloud the phrase “follow the money” can imply nefarious dealings. Yet in a relationship context how might the words portray two women wavering on whether to stay in their lesbian marriage? Will she or won’t she?

Director Lisa Cholodenko’s movie The Kids Are All Right (2010) sets up characters Nic (Annette Benning) and Jules (Julianne Moore) in a grubby fight over who operates the purse strings. Often lesbians don’t have purses—we carry a day’s necessary in pockets—yet Nic and Jules are in an ongoing conversation, often unspoken, asking a question. How do literal purse strings symbolize and determine relationship health in their house?

The women continue to misunderstand how each woman sees power in her day based on economy. The conflict threatens a potentially great marriage. “I don’t understand what you are talking about,” Nic says to Jules when the two idly relax on a living room sofa before a television. “Really? Maybe what I am saying hasn’t reached your consciousness,” Jules replies flatly. She had been describing her inner sense of wasting life potential, her own.

Before she met Nic, Jules had college-earned an Architecture degree. But in their couple years with two kids, now teenagers Joni (Mia Wasikowska) and Laser (Josh Hutcherson), the pair agree Nic’s earnings as an Ob-Gyn could be supportive enough for a posh house, a Volvo station wagon, and purchase Jules’ “free time.” Meaning industrious work in one of the world’s hectic, challenging, and active gigs called daily parenting, which pays zero dollars. Good news is the kids are all right, yet Jules is searching in midlife, soulfully curious where to bring her own potential into a future economy chapter.

At the nightly, routine family dinner table, Nic expresses doubt as to why Jules bought a truck without any gardening clients yet. Their daughter Joni, 18, says to Nic that Jules is going for a landscaping design business. The Momses look at each other, again in a domestic fight with follow the money a subtext for conflict. But reality check is money never exists as subtext and is always front and center to determine lived lives especially for lesbian women. Nic calling her partner’s effort gardening disparages her effort. Rather than make an economic plan, the women are battling for perceived finance control. Nic is not ready to let go.

Her sense of control on being vulnerable with Jules is economic. In one scene Nic prepares a luxurious romantic bath for Jules who steps in on a whisp of hope she and her partner are going to share the moment. Candles are lit everywhere and the effort is relationship romantic. “Do you want to get in?” Jules asks Nic. A foot massage is where Nic stays for a minute on the edge of the large bathtub yet jumps slightly when realizing she has forgotten the lavender salt. “Don’t go,” Jules tries to convince her.

Yet Nic leaves the room. Jules relaxes in her being-recognized moment. As the minutes go on what becomes obvious is Nic choosing not to return. Jules wraps a towel around herself and is dropping bubbles as she walks downstairs to the kitchen in her incredulity. Nic waves to the phone she is holding, silently gesturing to convey, “I had to take this call.” A tall glass of wine is at her side. Nic says, “I don’t think those are contractions. Sounds like gas. Let’s communicate and call later.” Prioritizing her professional economy over her marriage relationship is a decision Nic makes in the moment leaving Jules stranded emotionally.

This is a familiar pattern in their combative misunderstandings on how to follow the money as origin of relationship conflict. In a restaurant scene Nic throws an entitled white woman fit, storming off while Jules follows her. At the bar where Nic asks to pay the bill (who else?), Jules has the film’s most vulnerable line: “Are you even attracted to me anymore?” Nic’s elitist finance privilege places blinders on her. She cannot see a woman who stands a few feet close to her, who she loves, and who she walks away from without saying a word, a heart dramatic moment for this lesbian viewer to watch.

Nic and Jules wear gold wedding rings yet their insular world has narrowed to material wealth not being “enough” to support their relationship. Lesbian identity in being enough often relates to economics, a confidence factor in being good enough lesbian parents. The couples’ son Laser insists his sister Joni connect with an agency who has information on the name of a donor who in his youth gave his male squirt to earn a few bucks. Years later the kids who were born are naturally curious who he is.

Evolving as Moms in lesbian culture often requires a sperm donor and this character Paul (Mark Ruffalo) has the lesbian couple nonplussed whether to connect with him after no contact all the years raising their children. Nic worries that because Laser reached out maybe he believes the Momses are “not enough.” A familiar lesbian Mama concern while raising kids imbued in patriarchal culture.

Nic laments that, “It’s not like we’re two grubby bitches.” In a dilemma together, how to be social with Paul for the sake of their kids, the couple are strong. “I’m with you,” Jules replies. Grubby in lesbian land—from a mainstream pov—means a female couple relying on a sperm donor coldly, clinically. Truth is that evolving to be mothers is an emotionally complex process yet manipulating a hetero male who volunteers to donate sperm is not one.

A practical agreement is made. Each woman has carried a pregnancy to full term and so we have healthy, strong youth Joni and Laser about to create lives of their own. Nic and Jules will be their kids’ support Momses in all future years, very likely. When the movie closes Jules gives a tearful soliloquy on marriage, a foreshadowing how this lesbian marriage can last once finance talks reallocate power.

Throughout her character failings Nic continually tries to reach her wife. She suggests a dinner party at a house where Jules has a landscaping design project in the works. At the house a social event evolves as joyful connecting in which Nic sings a Joni Mitchell song with her eyes closed. She’s relaxed, not over drinking wine, and connecting with the family she has created over the last two decades. When Nic goes to use the restroom, she discovers her wife’s hair on a brush and in the shower drain.

Returning to the social dinner table, director Cholodenko places Nic in a visually hushed moment where voices are dimly heard; we movie viewers, like the character, are watchers entirely immersed in Nic’s fiery pain. Later when the evening ends, the couple return to their home and Nic confronts Jules. Nic being her familiar blunt self asks Jules if she loves him. Jules scoffs and says no. Since she is having an affair with a man, Nic asks if Jules is now straight. Which Jules also scoffs at and says no, of course not. Nic concludes that Jules just wanted to get fucked then. And for this accusation Jules has a reply.

“I just wanted to be appreciated,” is how Jules responds, tearfully. In a lesbian couple especially, the phrasing follow the money has roots describing how women grow their lives together. Grubby is not an accurate descriptive word. Reowning language how others might perceive lesbian couples as grubby bitches is helpful. But not when the film characters are acting as if the words speak truly. When economic clarity is absent, one woman can feel radically underappreciated.

Even so, the women have created a foundation for their kids’ lives. Driving eight hours to bring Joni to her college dorm, Nic takes the wheel going there. In a truly healthy tearful moment as the Momses hold their daughter a last time before leaving, a return commute begins and now Jules is at the helm. From the back seat Laser offers a comment. “I don’t think you guys should break up,” he says. Nic smiles and looks at Jules. “Oh, yeah, Laser, why is that?” Jules has reached over for Nic’s hand and she responds caringly, a touch to start again. “You are too old,” Laser concludes. The women are smiling and life’s road trip continues ageing well for Nic and Jules.

One note: In a movie depicting many complex themes relating to lesbian families, I focused on follow the money, observing how decision making in a lesbian household has conflict when the topic goes unexplored thus undefined.

Two note: For several weeks, my goal is to share movie talk-story which allocates open scheduled time to finish my novel titled Sweet Spot. Stay tuned for a book publishing at accessible locations near you.