After more than a century of being overshadowed by the towering names of our national heroes, Gregoria de Jesús — the Lakambining Katipunan — finally takes her rightful place at the center of history through the film Lakambini, Gregoria de Jesús.
Unlike the usual linear biopic, Lakambini isn’t your typical historical film. It’s not a straightforward drama; it’s what the filmmakers call a “meta docufiction.” The film intertwines dramatized sequences from the unfinished 2015 feature with documentary interviews featuring historians, descendants, and the creative team who fought to bring this story back to life. This dual structure turns Lakambini into both a cinematic experience and a film about filmmaking — an introspective look at how stories, especially those of women, are remembered or forgotten.
Originally conceived as a full-length period drama directed by Jeffrey Jeturian and written by Palanca Award-winning playwright Rody Vera, Lakambini faced production hurdles when funding was cut. A decade later, producer Ellen Ongkeko-Marfil and filmmaker Arjanmar Rebeta ingeniously transformed its fragments into a hybrid film — part memory, part resurrection. The finished film feels like a quiet revolution in itself, turning what could’ve been a lost story into something alive and unforgettable.
Unlike the usual linear biopic, Lakambini isn’t your typical historical film. It’s not a straightforward drama; it’s what the filmmakers call a “meta docufiction.” The film intertwines dramatized sequences from the unfinished 2015 feature with documentary interviews featuring historians, descendants, and the creative team who fought to bring this story back to life. This dual structure turns Lakambini into both a cinematic experience and a film about filmmaking — an introspective look at how stories, especially those of women, are remembered or forgotten.
Originally conceived as a full-length period drama directed by Jeffrey Jeturian and written by Palanca Award-winning playwright Rody Vera, Lakambini faced production hurdles when funding was cut. A decade later, producer Ellen Ongkeko-Marfil and filmmaker Arjanmar Rebeta ingeniously transformed its fragments into a hybrid film — part memory, part resurrection. The finished film feels like a quiet revolution in itself, turning what could’ve been a lost story into something alive and unforgettable.
What makes Lakambini powerful is not just its historical significance but its emotional honesty. The narrative weaves together Gregoria’s love, grief, and patriotism — showing how her quest for justice mirrors the filmmakers’ own decade-long struggle to finish her story. In many ways, the film itself becomes an act of revolution.
Lovi Poe, one of my favorite actresses of her generation, brings the young Gregoria de Jesús to life with quiet strength and grace. She carries both toughness and tenderness in every scene — the calm strength of a woman who stood shoulder to shoulder with Andres Bonifacio, not behind him. Elora Españo brings heartbreaking depth as the devoted wife mourning her husband’s execution, while Gina Pareño — in one of her most affecting roles — portrays the elder Ka Oryang with a quiet, aching dignity that moved me to tears in the film’s final moments.
Rocco Nacino’s take on Bonifacio is a revelation — thoughtful, grounded, and humane. His restrained intensity perfectly balances Poe’s calm fire, reminding viewers that heroism often lies not in grand gestures but in quiet conviction.
What could have been a tragedy of an unfinished project becomes a triumph of reinvention. Lakambini makes the most out of its unfinished pieces and turns them into art. The film becomes self-aware — a conversation between past and present, between history and the people who try to preserve it. It’s poetic, experimental, and deeply human.
And then there’s the music. Ebe Dancel’s theme song “Lakambini” swells with emotion, perfectly capturing the spirit of the film. It’s one of those songs that stays with you even after you leave the theater — heartfelt, patriotic, and deeply moving.
Watching Lakambini reminded me why remembering matters. It rekindled my sense of pride and sorrow, and yes — it made me cry. As the film ends with Gina Pareño’s Ka Oryang reflecting on the unending cycle of loss and resilience, I couldn’t help but feel that history does repeat itself — not because we forget, but because we still haven’t fully learned.
For anyone who needs a reminder of what it means to love and fight for this nation, Lakambini will light that spark again. It’s not just a movie — it’s a mirror held up to our nation’s soul, and a long-overdue tribute to the woman who kept the flame of revolution burning.
My Verdict: 4/5
Lovi Poe, one of my favorite actresses of her generation, brings the young Gregoria de Jesús to life with quiet strength and grace. She carries both toughness and tenderness in every scene — the calm strength of a woman who stood shoulder to shoulder with Andres Bonifacio, not behind him. Elora Españo brings heartbreaking depth as the devoted wife mourning her husband’s execution, while Gina Pareño — in one of her most affecting roles — portrays the elder Ka Oryang with a quiet, aching dignity that moved me to tears in the film’s final moments.
Rocco Nacino’s take on Bonifacio is a revelation — thoughtful, grounded, and humane. His restrained intensity perfectly balances Poe’s calm fire, reminding viewers that heroism often lies not in grand gestures but in quiet conviction.
What could have been a tragedy of an unfinished project becomes a triumph of reinvention. Lakambini makes the most out of its unfinished pieces and turns them into art. The film becomes self-aware — a conversation between past and present, between history and the people who try to preserve it. It’s poetic, experimental, and deeply human.
And then there’s the music. Ebe Dancel’s theme song “Lakambini” swells with emotion, perfectly capturing the spirit of the film. It’s one of those songs that stays with you even after you leave the theater — heartfelt, patriotic, and deeply moving.
Watching Lakambini reminded me why remembering matters. It rekindled my sense of pride and sorrow, and yes — it made me cry. As the film ends with Gina Pareño’s Ka Oryang reflecting on the unending cycle of loss and resilience, I couldn’t help but feel that history does repeat itself — not because we forget, but because we still haven’t fully learned.
For anyone who needs a reminder of what it means to love and fight for this nation, Lakambini will light that spark again. It’s not just a movie — it’s a mirror held up to our nation’s soul, and a long-overdue tribute to the woman who kept the flame of revolution burning.
My Verdict: 4/5
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