‘Forgotten Island’ brings a father and daughter closer in Austria

VIENNA — Heinrich (not his real name) is a mixed-race Filipino who was born and raised in the Philippines before eventually migrating to Austria. Filipino culture was not something he had to search for while growing up. It was simply part of everyday life. It was in the language, the food, the traditions, the people around him and the memories he carried with him when he moved to Europe. 

But raising children in Austria gave him a different perspective on what it means to pass that culture on. His children were born and raised in Austria. They grew up with a different environment from the one their father knew. Over the years, Heinrich began to feel a distance growing between them and the Filipino culture they had inherited. 

They were Filipino by heritage, but what did that really mean to them? For a father who had spent his childhood surrounded by Filipino culture, that question was difficult. How do you pass something on when the next generation did not grow up experiencing it in the same way? How do you explain the importance of a culture when your children have another culture that is equally familiar to them?

For Heinrich, it was a distance he had quietly hoped to close. That was why he found himself at Lugner Kino last night for the special community screening of “Forgotten Island.” 

The screening was made possible through the collaboration of Christel Gaño of Ligaya Apparel and Marilyn Pretty Magoo of Rambak Austria, who worked together with Universal to bring the film to the Filipino community in Vienna. The two community leaders gifted the community with free admission, turning the screening into something much more than an ordinary night at the cinema. 

There was even more waiting for the audience. Ligaya Apparel prepared a tombola giveaway, together with official movie merchandise, giving everyone another reason to celebrate the evening. 

But for Heinrich, the real gift was the film. “Forgotten Island” was tantalizing and extremely good. The audience laughed. They cried. They reacted together. And somewhere between the laughter and the tears, Heinrich found himself thinking about his children.

The film opened a window into the complicated feeling of belonging to a culture while growing up somewhere else. It touched on something many second-generation Filipinos may struggle to explain: the feeling of being Filipino, but also being Austrian; being connected to your parents’ homeland, while knowing that another country is the place you call home. The in-between. Then came a surprise. Heinrich noticed his daughter. 

She was there. 

He had not expected her to attend. And yet, there she was, sitting somewhere along the same row. Not beside him. 

They were seated at opposite ends of the row. There were other people sitting between them, but somehow the distance felt bigger than the length of the seats. It was almost symbolic. A father who grew up Filipino. A daughter who grew up Austrian. 

Two people who shared the same heritage, sitting in the same cinema, watching the same Filipino story, but experiencing that heritage from very different places. Heinrich looked toward the screen.

So did she. 

Neither needed to move closer. For the next two hours, the film sat between them. And perhaps that was exactly what they needed. Forgotten Island gave them something they could share without having to explain themselves. A story about identity. About belonging. About the complicated feeling of carrying a culture that can sometimes feel both close and distant. 

The audience laughed together. They cried together. 

And for Heinrich, knowing his daughter was somewhere at the other end of the row made those moments mean even more. Perhaps she did not suddenly understand everything about the culture her father had grown up with. Perhaps one film could not erase years of distance. 

But she was there. She was watching. And maybe that was a beginning.

For second-generation Filipinos, especially those who may feel disconnected from the culture of their parents, a film like Forgotten Island can become a window. It can create conversations between generations and help parents explain the parts of themselves that are sometimes difficult to put into words. 

It can remind young Filipinos that they do not have to choose between identities. They can be Filipino and Austrian. They can belong to two places. 

They can grow up somewhere else and still carry something from the place their parents came from. The audience at Lugner Kino Cinema 4 reflected that same diversity. Filipinos of different ages came together. Parents, children, young adults and older generations sat under the same roof and watched the same story unfold. 

For one evening, the differences between generations seemed a little less important. 

Christel Gaño of Ligaya Apparel and Marilyn Pretty Magoo of Rambak Austria, both second-generation Filipinos themselves, know what it means to grow up between cultures. Their collaboration with Universal was more than simply organizing a movie screening.

It was a love letter to the Filipino community. 

A way of saying that our stories deserve to be seen, shared and understood. For Heinrich, the message became personal. He came to Lugner Kino hoping to watch a good Filipino film. He left with something he did not expect. His daughter was there. At the opposite end of the row. But for those two hours, they were watching the same story. Maybe the distance between them will not disappear overnight. 

Maybe there will still be questions. Maybe there will still be things his daughter does not understand about the culture her father carries with him. But now they have something to talk about. And perhaps that is where a bridge begins. Not necessarily by sitting beside each other. Sometimes, it begins by sitting at opposite ends of the same row, looking at the same screen, and finally seeing a little bit of yourself in the story.