Remembering Rico

By Director Jose Javier Reyes

I was in the middle of writing an out-of-town episode for "Whattamen" when Bibeth Siguion-Reyna called: Her sister-in-law now on vacation in New York made a long distance query about a text message she received about the death of Rico Yan.

I laughed. I assumed that even on Holy Week, some sicko was going around a piece of sensational lie, the kind that sends showbiz talk shows into epileptic attacks. I told Bibeth this was most likely to be just another one of those tidbits floated around by very bored people who have nothing better to do with their lives.

I just finished speaking with Bibeth when I received a text message about Rico's death. It was from the executive producer of "Whattamen," the sitcom that starred Rico and his friends Dominic Ochoa and Marvin Agustin. This time I knew it was true.

I was speechless for about a few seconds before I called up our Weng Cestina, our EP. She was in tears. She gave me the details about this completely shocking incident. How Dominic found Rico in rigor mortis.

I did not even know that Rico had just split up from Claudine Barretto. All the promotions oif their last movie, "Got to Believe," painted a scenario so picture-perfect that any gullible fan would think Rico and Claudine would board Cinderella's carriage made of pumpkin and fly off to some romantic Neverland.

I did not even hear all those anecdotes about the cold shoulder, the petty fights and the real life dramatic events that transpired between the two while they were promoting their film.

At this point, the morsels of data were unimportant. A young man of 27 was dead. I was stupefied because I was right smack in the middle of writing a script for one of his TV shows, my imagination completely immersed in his character, trying to sort-out convolutions of plot and language to elicit ratings-friendly humor. I could not help but remember how this was the same young man I met years ago, looking very much the way he will be remembered by his fans today.

I was never close to Rico Yan. Working in films only allows a few weeks, maybe months, to be in constant touch or to be exposed to the physical oresence of an actor. In Rico's case, I never saw him as a "star, only that little boy who was hanging around the old wing of ABS-CBN when life in that studio was so much simpler.

There were auditions and look-sees for a series that never materialized — a facsimile of "Beverly Hills 90210" or something like that. He looked like a college boy then, huddled together with other young people like Red Sternberg and Hans Montenegro.

Vulnerability

Rico exuded that La Sallista presence that I was most familiar with. And, even then, he knew how to use his dimples and boyish vulnerability to charm his way through any situation or conversation. He was smart, eloquent and had that kind of wit that came rarely with young people who are more preoccupied with being seen rather than being truly heard. You sensed that this was not the run-of-the-mill sort of youngster who wanted to barge into showbiz for the fun and the power.

Even then, when he was still so unconscious of the rewards and repercussions of being public property, Rico Yan had a good head on his shoulders.

The ABS-CBN Talent Center eventualy launched Rico in their first batch of Star Circles. Photographed and groomed, the college boy put himself in the mold that would elicit unconditional adulation from fans.

What they saw was this two-dimensional figure of a brown-skinned, smiling-eyed young man who spoke good English but never foisted his educated ways to the point of condescensions. He didn't only have intelligence but also determination to blend into the scene, to play for the audience, to submit to the rituals necessary for building a box-office love team.

Thinking Actor

One thing most necessary for actors is the intelligence that discerns emotions, facilitates interpretation and gains access to interactions with fellow actors. A thinking actor spares any director 80 percent of the trouble. And there are also the other actors who are marvelous because of the magic of editing and dubbing.

Not Rico. Sure, he did not display the faculties of a thespian, but no one ever required him of that. He was being groomed as a matinee idol, the most commercial kind of performer who could sell movies by simply flashing a toothpaste smile and kissing his partner in public, whether in a studio or during a mall appearance.

Immediately after "Ama, Ina, Anak," I was thrown into the principal photography of "Radio Romance." This time Rico was paired with Claudine. There were about 30 actors in that interwoven story about Valentine and Rico had to play a geek to Claudine's computer nerd. He was more relaxed then, maybe because of the sheer number of actors who populated the set. And, besides, this was no heavy drama that requird pails of tears and Famas-award moments.

New Man

When I saw him again, it was years later — at a taping of the Sharon Cuneta show which tackled the subject of friendship. I was with Manny Castaneda and Rico was with Miguel Zubiri.

It was a different Rico. He had already mastered the trappings of the business. He exuded the kind of confidence that could be acquired only after so many interviews, too many press conferences and uncountable handshaking and waving to crowds.

He still looked very much the same boyish charm with dimples and all, but he had grown-up. At a very early age, he found his niche and chartered his course in the ugly maze of the entertainment industry.

Now, in the middle of writing a script, the news was confirmed. Rico was dead a 27.

Questions

I try to figure out what lesson exist amid all this, but I am still quite confused. There is such a thing as perfect timing, knowing when to exit, most especially when an actor is not at the height of his career and popularity, when he has become a host of a top-rating daily variety show and is a major endorser and has still not gottenover the euphoria of a hit move.

One begins to think of the irony of mortality, the universal jest involving untimely deaths and illogical conclusions. How can someone this young leave this existence just at the time when everything seems to be going for him? How can a well-scrubbed, educated boy-next-door on vacation with friends leave us just like that?

Of course, questions such as these are not for us to answer.

Real People

Death turns stars into people, real people. Whether they are mind-boggling incidents such as the brutal slaying of Nida Blanca or this incomrehensible departure of Rico Yan, suddenly the larger-than-life characters are diminished to the same stature as the fans.

They, too are mortal human beings who hurt as much as they laugh, who need to be assurance even as their mere presence can be assuring to millions.

We can plunder all the available cliches about the two faces of show business yet fail to explore or make people understand that the spotlight, applause and well-lit publicity photos only constitute the utmost tip of the iceberg.

Sure, the government imposes a 20 percent witholding tax on the assumed bloated earnings of stars. It is probably because the larger public only considers that magical media persona, that face and the body that sell, but no one sees the endless days, tireless and sleepless nights of working. No one cares about the personal pains of entertainers because they are meant only to do that… entertain.

Not Wasted

The fact remains that a 27-year old actor with so much promise left his fans without so much as saying goodbye. Yes, it is "sayang" but then I thought, "How can this be so?" In a span of less than a decade, the college boy has succeeded in endearing himself to so many, including his co-workers, his fellow actors and everyone else who had the opportunity to be with him.

That is not "sayang" because even if he lived for only two and a half decades, what he accomplished was so much more than what others may have done in twice or even thrice that amount of time.

Rico Yan will sorely be missed. The rumors will continue. The expressions of grief will flow. There will be unforgettable silences in the studio for the next few days, or weeks.

Then life will go on. The lights will be turned on. Punch-and-Judy routines will return with predictable gusto. And Rico will not be there except in the hearts and minds of those who knew him, or thought they owned a part of him.

Reprinted from the Philippine Star, March 3, 2002