WHEN Soxie Topacio died at 65 on July 21, the photos used of him shared one thing in common; that smile, or grin, on his face. It was not a social smile aimed at pleasing the audience; it was an expression that was more about the person that Soxie Topacio was—a genial personality who never took himself seriously. People always got this sense that he was laidback, relaxed and cool.
While people who pass on are remembered solely for their character, Soxie’s death reminded us of his works, his accomplishments. Those who love and adore him talk about the plays he acted in, the movies he was in and the productions he mounted and directed. Now, isn’t that a fabulous way to leave this world? Isn’t that a fantastic way to be remembered?
I had watched many plays that Soxie directed and acted in, but it was this TV sitcom, called Duplex, for which I will remember him always.
It was a sitcom that starred the best in the Philippine world of comedians. There was Ading Fernando, who was the only comedian who could perform on a par with the likes of Dolphy, Panchit0 and Chiquito. Ading Fernando, it must be written, was not as active as those comedians. He was a director and a writer of sitcoms.
It was a joy always to witness the skewed drama in the lives of two families living in a duplex. And of all the bundles of joys offered by that comedy, the biggest bundle was Soxie Topacio.
He held his place in that space where the other actors delivered their lines with such gloriously demented wit. Soxie, of course, threatened to steal the show always in the role of Neneng.
In Duplex, the hilarity was when Soxie stepped out of character to mockingly berate an extra or anyone who had a walk-on part with the line: “Di ba may linya ka dito? [You have a line here, don’t you?]” The poor character could only look blankly at Soxie first and the other characters. Then that grin started to form on his mouth and Soxie would get away with his hands covering his face. The rest of the cast, of course, could barely contain their laughter.
It would take many years after Duplex when I saw the Soxie touch in many plays. There was DH, a play that had for its lead the incomparable Nora Aunor, perhaps, at her peak in theater. It was a difficult play, written by Ricky Lee. A play within a play, DH continually teased the audience into believing the tragedy was happening when, in fact, it was a rehearsal in process. Soxie Topacio was a match to the genius of Nora Aunor. People would talk of the long line that snaked from the Rajah Sulayman Theater down to the stretch of the Fort Santiago ground. Onstage was the great thespian Nora Aunor; offstage and behind it was the force that was Soxie Topacio.
Soxie Topacio shared a space with Nora Aunor much earlier, in a movie that changed the landscape of fandom, the classic Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos. View it again. In that scene where the characters of Rosario (Aunor) and Masugi (Christoper de Leon) had escaped to a secluded farm house, you could catch a glimpse of Soxie. He was there with the guerillas making their presence felt by whistling and imitating animal sounds. In one medium shot, there was Soxie Topacio, in the role of a guerilla. That was the last time we would see him in a role that was macho and rough, before he assumed the role of Neneng in Duplex.
There was another play, the title of which escapes me now. It opened with Soxie on top of one of the lower ledges of the ruins of Rajah Sulayman Theater. He was one of the gods and with a dramatic lisp, he declared the fall of civilization through man’s follies. With his signature humor and grand gestures, he was announcing, as well, the follies of gods themselves.
But more than all these memories, I have a distinct recollection of a meeting with Soxie Topacio. It was in one of the classrooms in the old Jesuit university where I was teaching an introductory course on Sociology and Anthropology. To articulate on the notion of how perspectives vary, there was a session in this class where I asked my students to invite a resource speaker whose work was very different from what they would usually encounter. In one of these sessions, a group had invited Soxie Topacio. I can’t remember what he generally talked about but I still think of what he shared.
There was this school in a rural area, in an island where he did his theater outreach. There was only one teacher taking care of four classes from Grades 1 to 4. When the teacher was handling one class, the other class would be given seatwork and the remaining two classes would be doing gardening. One day, while Soxie was there, the teacher fell ill. Instead of being absent, she sent through the boat a set of seatworks the pupils could do. Soxie was visibly moved by this and so was the class. As I was ushering him outside, he turned to me and asked: “Do you think your students understood my story?”
They understood you Soxie, as I told you that day, the way the audience of your plays understood your techniques and tales.
Where you are now, there are a thousand and one comedians. Don’t worry. You will be noticed by many, for you are comic extraordinaire and you are a good person. Tell them tales. Don’t forget that lisp. And don’t forget to share with the saints that the follies of men and women are also the follies of the divine. Who knows, you might be granted a seat at the right hand of the Master Playwright. That would be lovely, Mama Soxie, as your fans and followers call you.