I WAS in grade school when Ms. Lolita Rodriguez taught me marital infidelity.
My life coaches who were in the guise of aunts were always bringing me to moviehouses. My grandfather, it seemed, wanted me to be a chaperone in case my aunts were out on a date
In one of these forays, I became part of the audience for a film I thought were full of mature actors. It was Sapagkat Kami’y Tao Lamang (1963). The characters were played by Eddie Rodriguez, Marlene Dauden, who cried a lot, and Lolita. The film’s title would go down in Filipino moral history as the biggest excuse for erring individuals. Being human with all the frailties became more powerful than any act of contrition.
That exposure would lead to more films that had one man and two women. “Troika” sounded obscene then to a young boy; the term “love triangle” soon became a description of the films that starred always the irrepressibly masculine Eddie and Marlene, the actress who, I believe, competes with Gloria Romero for being the Reina Lacrimosa, the movie queen who can remain lovely in grief. Completing the triangle and yet detached from the entanglement was Lolita.
Lolita had already won many Famas Awards by the time she started making an art form about confrontations caused by infidelity and romantic duplicity. Her films with Eddie and Marlene, however, etched in the minds of many viewers an actress who survived the most heartbreaking heartaches and heartbreaks because there was, in place of a heart that easily fell in love, a face that could just hide the chilling capacity to hate.
People never think of Lolita as a lovely woman, with all the sexist connotations the term can bear. But the 1950s would put the spotlight on a face that was beautiful by any standard. In films like Sino Ang May Sala? (1957), where Paraluman and Gloria Romero were reeking of fine elegance, Lolita could fill the screen with a face the camera craved, like mortal sin.
For the present crop of film enthusiasts and those immediately preceding them, Lolita would be the actor the great director Lino Brocka had rediscovered. Brocka would resurrect from nowhere actresses, like Mona Lisa and Alicia Vergel, but—and you have to pardon this term—Lolita would be Brocka’s most magnificent creation
Lolita’s second wind was in Stardoom (1971). She would remind everyone with this appearance about her existence, but the film was Walter Navarro’s, a young actor with the face of an angel, the motivation of a fallen one, and the body of carnal knowledge. Of course, let’s not forget that Tita Muoz, who talked as if she had walked in from an insanely gripping English play and spoke with the élan of a cruel socialite, had a delicious role as a sugar mommy, dripping with all the diabetic implications of the silly character.
Lolita would resurface with a vengeance even if there was nothing to avenge as Kwala, the crazy woman of some town. She was beyond recognition—dirty and with head full of scabs and festering wounds. The film was Tinimbang Ka Nguni’t Kulang (1974), a film that would change the demographics of Filipinos viewing “Tagalog/Pilipino” films. English-speaking colegialas trooped to moviehouses that were devoted to local films and audiences all over the country were shocked by this actress who brought a troubling verite to the cinema of Brocka. Her insane woman was greater than all the Sisas combined. For the first time, people did not laugh at the antics of the demented woman but cried at her fate. A new Lolita was born. Who says it’s bad to burn bridges? With the film, Lolita threw bombs at boulevards connecting her to a world of glamor and false narratives. She crossed the chasm and came out at the other end, bringing a torch to light her way to films that elucidated a craft which made us think of traditions of the arts and transcendence. Lolita didn’t just make films: she constructed and organized onscreen master classes from which actors could learn from.
A slew of more Brocka films followed. A fandom was reconstructed.
In the omnibus Tatlo, Dalawa, Isa (1974), Lolita was in the last episode, “Bukas, Madilim, Bukas”. Penned by Orlando Nadres, the film had the wanton scent of a Tennessee Williams gothic romance. The piece was based on an acclaimed play done by Lolita and the venerably eloquent Mary Walter onstage, in roles they reprised for the movie. Done in sepia with Romy Vitug making his foray into cinema, the film was troubling in its gangrenous affection for nostalgia, for yesterdays that threatened any tomorrows, for the future was as forbidding as it was forbidden.
Lolita in the film is a woman who did not marry because there was her mother crippled by disease. Every now and then, she goes to this cabinet and longingly appraises what is there. We would discover, toward the end, that the aparador contains a wedding dress that’s never worn for the wedding never takes place. Before this, Lolita’s character falls for a gardener. They make love and the mother who could not walk rushes out of her false affliction and finds them up in the loft. The next scene shows Lolita back in the room and waiting for her mother to wake up, so she could confront her. The toxin that drips out of the mouth of Lolita’s Rosenda matches the shameful deception of the most selfish mother. Mary Walter dies during their bitter exchange. Lolita now dresses up in the wedding gown and walks down the wide staircase, an impending bride to a groom who will not be at the altar. Gloria Swanson’s Norma Desmond may have painted a similar scenario, but the similarity ends there. The aging movie queen is vulgar beside the aged woman of Lolita, unfulfilled and too late and too broken for any liaison. Lolita’s Rosenda is an image that bleeds out of an old photograph and shines with a thousand variations of light to stand for regret, despair, loneliness and resignation. One senses a breakdown but even that is merely suggested by the twitch of the mouth, and the glimmer from the eyes is not inspired by any hope but from the splendor of the lack of faith in any kind of lasting affection. It’s a subtlety that can never be copied; it’s a performance that will scare any attempts from impersonation.
When it was announced that Lolita Rodriguez would pair with the indomitable Charito Solis as sisters in Ina, Kapatid, Anak (1979), the world of the local movie industry shook with fright. Would the two kill each other? Would the film be an extended gladiatorial fight of scene-stealing? Nothing of the sort happened. What came out was a pairing beyond compare: Solis and Rodriguez were opposites, with acting styles so singular unto each other that they were a delight and countered comparison. Once more, we saw in the violent scenes Lolita’s legendary control of her body that bordered on but never got to caricatured poise. Confronting the past through an old lover, Lolita’s Pura showed us how to repress tears because to allow them to fall was to die. Indeed, when Lolita’s character declared the death of her love, we also died out of sheer pain in the physicality of love unrequited.
How can we pay tribute to the grand talent of Lolita Rodriguez without talking about her film with another acting titan, Nora Aunor?
When it was revealed that Lolita had agreed to act with Nora in Brocka’s Ina Ka ng Anak Mo (1979), the movieworld trembled at the horrifying possibilities. The scene that immortalized the event was in that part where Ester (Nora) discovers that her mother, Renata (Lolita), had given birth to the child sired by Ester’s husband—yes, Renata’s son-in-law.
People can recall even up to now how Nora had the advantage. In the scene, Nora is standing and could be blocked within the space; Lolita is lying down and limited to facial and hand movements. As expected, Nora’s performance seared the screen. But there is a story behind that scene that I’ve been privileged to know.
Kristian Cordero, the director of Nora in Hinulid, shared with me how, some months back, Nora recalled her film with Lolita and that particular scene. Nora told Kristian how Nora was thankful to Lolita for being supportive of her. We don’t see it now but Nora remembered how, as she went through that difficult scene, Lolita continued to act with passion even as the camera was not focused on the great actress.
Such is the generosity of a genius. That genius is named Lolita Rodriguez.
Where she is now, Lolita Rodriguez may be feeling intimidated by the real stars she is watching up close beside eternal clouds and comets trailing the abode of those who had passed on. Well, Lolita Rodriguez should not feel like that. Up there, she could teach the angels and saints the art of elegant restraint.
Lolita Rodriguez died on November 28 in Hemet, California, USA. She was 81.