‘Call Me Mother’ Netflix Movie Review - A Surprisingly Tender Story About What Makes a Parent

Call Me Mother arrives on Netflix as a film that initially looks like it might be another broad Vice Ganda comedy, but it is actually much more interested in family, motherhood, and the uncomfortable question of whether biology should automatically determine who gets to call themselves a parent. Directed by Jun Robles Lana and starring Vice Ganda as Twinkle, Nadine Lustre as Mara and Lucas Andalio as Angel, the Filipino comedy-drama was originally released theatrically in the Philippines as part of the 2025 Metro Manila Film Festival before its Netflix arrival.

That tonal expectation is probably the first thing to get used to. Call Me Mother is funny, but it isn't primarily a comedy. The humour is there, particularly through Vice Ganda's performance and the eccentricity of the supporting characters, but the film is ultimately built around a fairly serious emotional conflict. That makes it more effective when it works, although it also means anyone expecting a nonstop Vice Ganda comedy may find themselves waiting for jokes that aren't necessarily coming.

Vice Ganda is the film's biggest strength. Twinkle could easily have become a collection of broad comic mannerisms, but the performance is considerably more restrained than that. There is humour in the character, certainly, but there is also genuine insecurity and fear underneath it. Twinkle has spent years raising Angel and has constructed her entire life around him, so the possibility of losing that relationship isn't an abstract legal problem. It is an existential one.

Nadine Lustre is equally important because Mara isn't written simply as the villainous biological mother who arrives to disrupt a perfectly happy family. The film gives her history, regret, and her own complicated reasons for the choices she made. That makes the central conflict considerably less convenient than it could have been. Nobody gets to be completely right, which is exactly what the story needs. The film's strongest idea is consequently also its simplest: motherhood is not necessarily the same thing as biology.

But Call Me Mother is careful not to turn that into an easy slogan. Biology matters. So does the person who actually raises a child. So does the child's own understanding of who his parent is. And so do legal rights. The film puts all of these ideas into conflict rather than pretending that one of them automatically wins. That gives the story considerably more emotional substance than its promotional premise might suggest.

The relationship between Twinkle and Angel is particularly effective because the film establishes that their bond has been built over years rather than manufactured for the sake of the plot. Lucas Andalio gives Angel enough personality to avoid making him simply the passive child at the centre of an adult argument. The story is ultimately about his family too, and the fact that the adults' decisions affect his sense of identity is one of the film's more thoughtful elements. There is also an interesting tension between Twinkle's desire to protect Angel and her fear of losing him. Her choices aren't always selfless, and the film doesn't completely excuse them. That makes her more human. She can be loving and possessive at the same time, and the story is strongest when it allows those qualities to coexist.

The pageant storyline provides the film with its more recognisably Filipino entertainment element. Twinkle is a pageant coach, and Mara's return to the pageant world becomes intertwined with their personal conflict, giving the film an unusual combination of family drama, comedy and beauty-pageant spectacle. It could have become a distracting gimmick, but instead the pageant world works reasonably well as a backdrop for the film's questions about public image, motherhood and the pressure to present yourself as someone you aren't.

There are definitely moments when Call Me Mother becomes too melodramatic. The emotional stakes are repeatedly pushed toward maximum volume, and some developments feel designed to make the audience reach for the tissues rather than arrive organically. The film also occasionally swings between comedy and drama so abruptly that the transition can feel slightly artificial. But the sincerity is difficult to dismiss.

This is a film that genuinely wants to talk about chosen family without pretending that chosen family exists outside the complications of biological relationships. It also gives a queer mother a story in which her gender identity isn't treated as the central problem she has to overcome. Twinkle's motherhood is simply motherhood; the conflict is about who has the right and responsibility to raise Angel. That is a meaningful distinction.

The film isn't particularly subtle about its message, and viewers who prefer their family dramas understated may find the emotional manipulation a little much. But something is refreshing about a mainstream Filipino film being willing to centre a queer parent while still allowing the character to be messy, funny, frightened and imperfect rather than turning her into a symbol.

At just over two hours, Call Me Mother does occasionally feel longer than it needs to be. Some of the middle sections could have been tightened, particularly where the pageant and family storylines overlap. Yet the extended runtime also gives the central relationships enough room to evolve rather than resolving the conflict after a couple of convenient misunderstandings. The result is considerably more heartfelt than I expected.

Call Me Mother isn't a perfect film. Its melodrama can become heavy-handed, its tonal shifts aren't always smooth, and some of its emotional beats are telegraphed well in advance. But the performances, particularly from Vice Ganda and Nadine Lustre, give the story enough warmth and complexity to overcome those weaknesses. More importantly, it treats its central question seriously without reducing it to a simplistic argument about blood versus love. It is ultimately a film about the uncomfortable truth that families aren't always defined by the person who gave birth to you—or even by the person who raised you alone. Sometimes they're defined by the people who stayed. And for a movie that arrives looking like a Vice Ganda comedy, Call Me Mother turns out to have considerably more on its mind.

Final Score- [8/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times