Astride a dark horse, she hurtles across grassy fields and wooded hills in search of the missing Andres Bonifacio, her husband, founder of the Katipunan. In a scene, she pauses and sits quietly by a pool in a forest clearing, summons all her strength and lets out a piercing cry: ‘Andreees!!!’ De profundis, from out of the depths, her heartrending cry reverberates across the lush landscape of Maragondon. A cinematic moment, it jerked a tear from out of me.
Gregoria ‘Oriang’ de Jesus is not a mere footnote to history, or only incidentally a spouse to a great revolutionary and revered national hero. She was not simply a wife with a front seat to unfolding history, she was a significant part of that history, albeit in a muted way because the main protagonists of that era were men whose lives easily found their way to written history. Although it took time-more than a century-the story of Oriang would come into its own when emboldened women like her-of this present era-would give her the place she deserves in the nation’s memory.
Showing in movie theaters now is ‘Lakambini: Gregoria de Jesus’ directed by Arjanmar H. Rebeta (and Jeffrey Jeturian, et al. for the portions shot in 2015) and produced by veteran filmmaker Ellen Ongkeko-Marfil of Pelikulove. The ‘meta docufiction’ celebrates Oriang’s 150th birth anniversary this 2025 and ‘mirrors the filmmakers’ struggle to reclaim the legacy of a forgotten heroine.’ The oeuvre was 10 years in the making, but that is another story.
‘Lakambini’ stars both Elora Espano and Lovi Poe as Oriang in the cusp of adulthood and in their journey into widowhood. Gina Pareño is a force of her own-OMGs galore!-as Oriang in her sunset years. Rocco Nacino stars as Bonifacio; Paulo Avelino and Spanky Manikan as Julio Nakpil (the younger and the older respectively), Oriang’s second husband. Some scenes must have been shot in the Nakpil house, a heritage site in the Quiapo area. I had been there.
Oriang, only in her 20s and married to the Katipunan’s Supremo, chooses ‘Lakambini’ as her nom de guerre when she is inducted into a world of mostly male revolutionaries rising against the Spanish colonizers in Luzon areas toward the end of the 1800s, at the turn of the century. Lakambini derives from the word lakan or ruler; bini from binibini or a comely woman. Lakambini means woman leader. Beauty, brains, bravery.
We are given a glimpse of the courtship between the lovelorn Andres and Oriang, parental objections and all. Noted playwright Boni Ilagan did stage a rendition of it in ‘O Pag-ibig na Makapangyarihan,’ a kilig blockbuster for both millennials and millenniors. It was a precursor to the big screen’s ‘Lakambini.’
At a special screening of ‘Lakambini,’ it occurred to me that Bonifacio could be called a desaparecido (Spanish for disappeared) long before the word was used worldwide. Ongkeko-Marfil did say at the open forum that Oriang’s cry echoes in the cry of the families of the disappeared in our times. Desaparecido, in the language of Filipino human rights activists, is sapilitang iwinala.
‘Lakambini,’ presents the figure of Gregoria de Jesus as a woman in the heart of the revolution. She is thoroughly committed but not solely to her husband as the leader of a movement. She embraces the Katipunan and sees the differences, tensions, and ambitions within and keeps these in her heart. This does not mean she does not speak up. She, too, has a job to do. What exactly does she contribute to the struggle? For one, she risks her life protecting the documents of the Katipunan. She was a keeper of memory and more.
Note that because ‘Lakambini’ is a ‘mega docu-fiction,’ it does not follow the formula of a conventional historical opus. It uses documentary materials as backdrop to enhance visual storytelling and present-day sources with cameo appearances and spiels to connect the dots.
The disappearance and death of Bonifacio in the hands of his fellow freedom fighters is betrayal without compare. Who, why, when, where, how? The moviegoer should notice the fault lines in a movement run by men so committed and consumed by the common desire to see their people free. What did Oriang see and know?
Oriang must bear the aftermath of the Supremo’s death. Over the years, attempts at finding Bonifacio’s remains have not succeeded. Historians have been hard put pinning down the brains and the crystal clear reasons. Was it all worth it? Ah, hearken to the strains of Bonifacio’s famous poem set to music, ‘Aling pag-ibig pa.’ No greater love than this.
I leave it to the moviegoer to find where in ‘Lakambini’ Oriang’s heroism lies, to understand how it was to be a woman in the freedom struggle, to grieve not only for the husband she loved and lost but also for a nation in the iron hands of oppressors. To find hope and love again, for herself and for the motherland.
Revel in the outside-the-box surprise ending.