The local film critics’ circle – formally known as the Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino – was organized on May 1, 1976. It was a group set up by 10 film reviewers from various publications.
Forty-five years later, only one among the founding 10 is still with the group today: Dr. Nicanor Tiongson. The other original Manunuri members either left the group of left the world for good – never to return and take part in our colorful film discussions.
Last September 28, another founding member, the National Artist Bienvenido Lumbera, also said goodbye. He had been ill even before the pandemic. Bien was 89.
To people in academe, he was Dr. Lumbera or Sir Bien. To most of his other friends, he was Ka Bien and they didn’t necessarily have to be left-leaning to call him that.
But among the Manunuri members, he was just Bien. So Bien he was to me when I eventually joined the group in the late 1980s.
As film reviewers, our discussions are mostly healthy. Of course, there are times we turn vicious. But in the end, we always adhere to one common goal – and that is to help promote quality local films.
We may fight bitterly, especially during our deliberations – when we choose the winners in the annual Gawad Urian – but deep in our hearts, we love and care for each other. And we are happy for each other’s successes and triumphs.
When I won a brand-new car in a bingo game sponsored by ABS-CBN in the mid-1990s, all the Manunuri members were very happy for me. A few months later, Bien became the recipient of the very prestigious Magsaysay Awards for Literature and Journalism. It came with a cash prize that had the equivalent of P800,000. that time.
Oh, how happy I was for Bien. When I expressed my joy to the Manunuri group and told them how I envied Bien for his good fortune, one member jokingly snapped back: “Look, he got jailed during martial law before he got that, while you won a car just playing bingo!”
In 2006, Bien was proclaimed National Artist. We all basked in his glory. I was always proud of the fact that he was my friend and co-Manunuri.
But would have I wanted to trade lives with Bien?
Maybe only during the part when he was already enjoying the benefits bestowed on him as a National Artist. His early life was actually difficult and full of challenges.
A native of Lipa, Bien was orphaned at an early age. His father, Timoteo, was a sportsman – a baseball player – who died in a freak accident in 1933 when Bien was not even a year old. Timoteo was then picking fruits from a tree when he fell and eventually died.
Four years later, his mother, Carmen, also passed away after getting stricken with cancer, a rather new disease during that period. His grandmother, Eusebia, fortunately, was still around to care for him and an older sister.
Bien was only nine during the start of the Pacific War. He shared some war stories with me, but the most gripping was about the belle of Lipa. This lady was so lovely, she could rival the legendary Susan Magalona (Francis M.’s aunt) in the beauty department. Even after she had married, the town still admired her for her beauty.
When the Japanese troops marched to Lipa during the early days of the war, the soldiers forcibly took this most beautiful Lipena and gang-raped her. After they had satisfied their lust on her, they had her beheaded. This war-time story, courtesy of Bien, still haunts me to this day.
After liberation, it was Bien’s grandmother who died. He could have been taken in by spinster aunts, which was what they did with her sister, except that this deal only offered free board and lodging. He opted to be with his childless godparents because they had the means to give him a good education.
In the late 1940s, Bien entered the University of Santo Tomas where he majored in Literature. Later, he went to Indiana University where he completed his M.A. and Ph. D in Comparative Literature.
During martial law, his writings brought him to the attention of the military. He was detained along with other freedom fighters.
A lot of martial law victims underwent torture, including electrocution of the genitalia, but till the end refused to talk about what happened to them. Those experiences must have been so horrid and too painful to even discuss.
The most that Bien shared was when his tormentors took his eyeglasses. That made him practically blind. It was psychological torture because it stripped him of his dignity as a human being.
After his detention, he married his former student, Cynthia Nograles, who to this day is beloved by all the Manunuri members. Cynthia gave him four daughters. Ever so patriotic, Bien gave two of them very Filipino nicknames: Tala and Sining.
Bien remained vocal about the repressive ways of the Marcos administration even if it was obvious that he was under watch. He earned his keep mostly by teaching. He never turned his back though on his real passion – doing literary work: poems, criticisms and librettos.
As an academician, he taught at both UST and UP and in universities abroad. After a teaching stint in Japan in the mid-1980s, he returned to the Philippines and readjusted himself to Manila life. Never mind that he brought home with him his right-hand drive Japanese car.
The trials of his life continued up to that point. One evening, his house was burglarized and he was hogtied.
Even within the groves of academe, his sufferings persisted. As the head of the UP Film Center, he was stabbed mostly at the back by colleagues who obviously envied his post.
For all of the nasty experiences he encountered on earth, Bien remained positive about life. He enjoyed simple pleasures – like the popcorn I would make at home every time the Manunuri members would meet at my place. “This popcorn is so rich and buttery,” he often gushed.
He was also a fan of my bacon sandwich which I would serve to the Manunuri members while we screened films at the audio-visual room of the CCP. Bien would rave over how it was so perfectly fried to a crisp.
At another dinner I hosted in my house, he was so pleased to find out that one of the dishes waiting at the buffet table was monje, an old Tagalog recipe that is basically meatballs. Growing up, he said that he kept hearing about this food, but was never able to taste it until I served it at home. He thanked me profusely for it.
Bien was one person easy to please. Maybe after going through those difficult phases in life, he learned to be thankful for the littlest nice things that came his way. He called them “bienes” or goodies.
For all we know, perhaps he was also thankful for the hardships he had at various stages in his life. Surely, those trials helped shape his character. Those trying times contributed to his wisdom, honed his talent and developed his way of thinking.
These were the ingredients that made him a National Artist.
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Source: Pinoy Ako News
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