DATELINE: 2015

Coco Martin flashed his signature smile and greeted mallgoers at the Power Plant in Rockwell, Makati. He did not discriminate. Men, women, and children—he greeted them all. He was affable and approachable.

From afar, he saw a familiar face. It was  Kapamilya  actress Angel Locsin, whom Coco had known since their younger days, when they were both auditioning as models for commercials.  “He was coming down the  escalator,” Coco recalls.  “When he was near, I turned around.”

Coco was not being a snob. He was just flustered to see an old friend who by then had made a name in show business—while he himself was still working at the mall as a “promodizer” for a telecom company, giving away flyers, smiling for everyone.

“Angel suddenly became famous on Click ,” Coco explains, referring to the now-defunct GMA teen
show.  “ Honestly,  as a person, you still feel like, ‘Oh, he’s an artist.’ Like, he’s already reached a certain point. ‘Then, here I am, handing out  flyers.  I’m embarrassed.”

Back then, Coco was not aiming to be a sikat na artista like Angel. He just wanted to make something of himself. He just wanted a job that would bring in regular income.

“What I’m looking for is real life,”  he says. “Whatever— an artist,  a waiter…  I mean, anything, as long as it’s a way to make money. Any racket.”

This was early 2000. Coco was not asking for much.

STREET CHILD

For as long as he can remember, Rodel Pacheco Nacianceno—now better known by his screen name Coco Martin—was always looking for ways to make money. It was not surprising that he turned out to be this way. Enterprise was in his genes, after all. His paternal grandmother, Matilde Nacianceno, a housewife, got into all sorts of rakets, too, to augment the income that her husband, the late Popoy Nacianceno, was bringing in as a jeepney driver in Sampaloc, Manila.

“He worked in the cockpit,”  Coco says of his  Lola  Matilde.  “He had two  sidelines  —a sitter and lending money to vendors outside the cockpit.”

Lola Matilde also took on occasional jobs as a cook, a hawker of women’s dusters, and eventually a seller of jewelry. She was able to save enough money to buy a lot in Novaliches, where she built a small bungalow and, later, three narrow apartments at the back.

“He worked hard,”  Coco tells YES!  “He became the family’s running back.”

Aside from striving for a better life, there was another compelling reason why Lola Matilde was bent on getting her family out of Sampaloc. She was particularly anxious for her son Ramon, who would become Coco’s dad.

“  My father  was a crazy person,”  Coco says.  “My grandmother wanted to keep  my father  out of trouble.  At that time,  Novaliches was still a mountain range.”

Not one to rest on her laurels, Lola Matilde bought another lot in Novaliches a few streets away and had a row of apartments constructed.

“  My mom  , her aunt was teaching her,”  Coco narrates.  “Well,  my mother  was the one who helped take care of her cousins, that’s how it was. They rented  my grandmother’s apartment  . That’s where they met my father  .”

Ramon Nacianceno and Marites Pacheco went on to have a family of their own. On November 1, 1981, their first child, whom they would name Rodel, was born.

“When I was born, my grandmother’s mother said to name  me Rodel. Because when you say Rodel, you smile.”  Coco tells us. He then challenges us,  “Okay, say ‘Rodel’ without smiling!”  We concede.

Growing up, Rodel—who was nicknamed Deng—was a “normal na bata.” The not-so-normal thing about him was that he rarely celebrated his birthday with a party. That was because his birthday fell on All Saints’ Day, and instead of throwing a party for him, the Naciancenos trooped to La Loma cemetery to visit the tombs of their dead relatives.

“ It was only  October 31  , and we were already at the cemetery,” Coco recalls.  “We went around and around. That’s how the kids were, picking up candles!”

When Deng was nine years old, his parents separated. He was made to stay with his Lola Matilde, while his siblings were divided between the parents—his sister Michelle went with their mother to San Fernando, Pampanga, and his brother Ryan, with their father in Sampaloc, Manila.

“I’m not angry with them both,”  Coco says, talking about his parents’ separation.  “Maybe that’s why I’m so open, like it’s  better  that they’re apart. Because, since I was a kid,  they’ve been really  fighting, right? They can’t get along.  It’s better  that they’re just apart.  At least,  it’s okay. They’ll live a better life.”

In his lola’s house, there were strict rules to be followed. In the morning, Deng had his chores, which included cleaning the house. When he didn’t have to go to school, he played with his friends outside the house until 11 a.m. Then he went back home to set up the dining table for lunch, and to take a nap—or, at least, pretend to take a nap.

“In the afternoon, they would put you to sleep when you were young, right?”  he recalls.  “They would put you to sleep even if you weren’t sleepy!”

He would stay in bed until 2 p.m. and go out again with his friends. They would usually play basketball or sneak out to the nearby river to swim.

“We would bathe in the river until  five o’clock  in the afternoon,”  he reminisces.  “Well, we weren’t allowed to bathe in the river. Of course, we might drown, that’s what we call a paltok—it was like a small mountain. We would dry off there first, because our eyes would be red and  our skin would be dry.”

Coco describes himself as “batang kalye,” a street kid. But taking to the streets didn’t mean just going out to play or to hang around. It was also a job for the kid: his lola would often ask him to go out and collect the payments in her informal lending business.

“ I was only  nine years old  , and I was already going to Blumentrit  in  Manila.  I was the one collecting the loans from the vendors there. I had a list.  Actually,  that’s where I got annoyed. I was being cheated.”

Coco had a log of the borrower’s payments. The borrower also had his or her own list. Every time a borrower paid an installment on a loan, Coco would have the borrower sign his log and, in turn, he would sign the borrower’s list as a form of receipt. Both lists were supposed to match.

“You’re copying my signature! Of course, we both have a list. Why do they charge so much for signatures? How did that happen? ‘Why did I come here without getting you to sign, ‘and then I have a signature?’ I’m just a kid, I’m already fighting. Hahaha!”

The batang kalye was not one to back down from a fight. Coco admits getting into a lot of trouble in his younger years, not only because of his lola’s lending business, but often because his looks brought him unwanted attention.

“I’m a coward because I look like a little girl, and yet I’m small. You’re a coward. I don’t know why I seem  prone  to fighting sometimes. You always make me angry when I’m not doing anything. That won’t work for me. It’s like I’m rational, I won’t do anything bad to you, but don’t do anything bad to me because I won’t back down.”

Being laking-kalye made Coco street-smart early on. By the time he was 10 years old, he could already commute to his mother’s place in San Fernando by himself.

In school, he excelled in his Filipino subjects.  “Just Tagalog. I remember then, I was always  number one  in the  classroom,  because I understood, you know. I could recite, I could do  my homework  well.”

Coco turns somber.  “Maybe I would have been smart too if I had parents who taught me correctly, so I could speak English properly.”

Being a college graduate, Coco can actually understand English pretty well, but he says outright that he has a hard time conversing in it. And although his lola was there to support him and put him to school, he still wished that he had his parents around—parents who would teach him stuff, so that he wouldn’t have to discover things on his own most of the time.

“Of course, sometimes I feel sad that I discovered how to go to Makati. I also discovered how to drive a car. I discovered it so I could get a  license.”

Looking back, the 33-year-old Coco Martin feels that he was forced to become independent at an early age.  “I learned on my own, that sometimes there is a lack in my personality that I am looking for, that I wish  my parents  were there. When I see a family that is whole and I see the  parents,  very supportive of their children, I envy them.”

LOCAL: RAKET MAN

Standing at 5-foot-6 1/2, Coco Martin has the kind of face that makes you remember that one boy in school who had an easy charm and a quiet confidence about him. Armed with an infectious smile, Coco is the ultimate boy next door.

In school, although he claims that he wasn’t a heartthrob, he was “isa sa mga napapansin.” When he was a sophomore in high school, he became the overall escort of the whole campus—winning in his class before going on to compete with other escorts from different batches.

“Honestly,  I know I have looks,”  he says candidly.  “But I have many shortcomings. I have many, so to speak, shortcomings. Aren’t I small? I can’t be polished. It’s not in  my consciousness  that I can be an artist, because I’m shy.”

Still, he knew he could use his looks to earn him some cash. After auditioning for a television commercial, he was cast as one of the leads. It was his first foray into acting.

“The only scene I did was riding a motorbike,”  he recalls. “Next shot,  it was the  camera  in front of me. Because I couldn’t see anything but  the camera,  my eyes were darting around.  As in,  you know I was really nervous. I handed everything that was cheap to the director!”

He ended up being cut from the succeeding frames. It was then that he realized he didn’t know how to act. Still, showbiz came knocking.

Coco was then a college student at the National College of Business and Arts (NCBA) in Quezon City, taking up hotel and restaurant management (HRM). During his on-the-job training at a restaurant, where he waited tables, he was spotted by Rene dela Cruz, a floor director on the ABS-CBN variety show ASAP.

Rene arranged a meeting between Coco and Johnny Manahan, better known as Mr. M, Star Magic’s head honcho.

Mr. M told Coco to audition for the then-upcoming Star Circle Batch 9, which would produce the likes of Heart Evangelista and Rafael Rosell. Out of the hundreds who auditioned, 30 got short-listed, and Coco was one of them.

Before he knew it, Coco was attending workshops five times a week, which meant he had to skip classes a lot. He soon found himself juggling his studies and his workshop sessions. One thing was bound to give.

“I didn’t tell my grandmother that I was taking workshops to become an artist,”  Coco tells us.  “I was embarrassed, you know. Of course, here, I just look ordinary. Who would believe that I would become an artist? First of all, I have no  talent,  I don’t know how to dance, I don’t know how to sing, I don’t even know that I can act.”

Coco recalls telling his grandmother:  “La, can I work? I want to help you. I don’t want my tuition, I’ll ask for it, my pocket money, I’ll ask you for it.”

But  Lola  Matilde dissuaded her grandson:  “Let it go, let’s just bear with it. It’s only a few  years  away. The important thing is that you finish your studies. After you finish your studies, do whatever you want.”

Although he already had the chance to become an artista, Coco yielded to his lola’s wishes: he got his college degree. But after graduation, he had a hard time getting a job in his field. He got into different rakets, waiting tables in restaurants, appearing in advertisements, distributing promotional materials from companies.

“Sometimes, I give out alcohol at the  bar,  samplers  of  yosi. When there is a La Salle-Ateneo  basketball game,  I give out  pom-poms.  I give out  candy  at  gasoline stations.”

But he also gave acting another shot, as an extra in the now-defunct TV5 gag show Teka Mona, starring Joey de Leon.

“I don’t know how to make people laugh, but I said, just work,”  he comments.  “I’m really shy. For example, even now, you can’t make me sing. You can make me sing if I know how to work. But when it comes to having fun, I’m shy, you know.”

He was not choosy. He went where the money was. At the same time, he was dabbling in student theater productions, although he was already a graduate. It was at one of these stage productions that he met actor-director Ihman Esturco, who started managing him and who introduced him to indie films.

ABROAD: HOUSEKEEPER, JANITOR, COOK, MOWER OF LAWNS

Early in 2005, when he first heard that he was being cast in a movie titled  Masahista,  the first thing that came to Coco’s mind was that he was going to portray a  hilot. “First of all, I’m a man, but I’m not that aware  of that kind of work,”  he explains.  “I know there are  gays and  men, but I don’t know that there is that kind of job.”

When he pitched the project to Coco, Masahista supervising producer Ferdinand “Ferdie” Lapuz told the newbie that the film had the potential to compete in film festivals abroad.

“I accepted the  movie  not because I wanted to be an actress, but because I was told that  it  had a great chance  of competing abroad,” Coco admits.  “It was my dream to work  abroad,  so I really jumped at the  opportunity.  I didn’t even ask what kind of movie I would do, how deep it would be, right? The theme was delicate. All I heard was, ‘  abroad.’”

The actor, in truth, had a secret plan: he would do the movie, attend the filmfest abroad, and become a TNT (tago nang tago), that is, an illegal immigrant or undocumented alien, working in a foreign country without a working visa.

For the film Masahista, helmed by director Brillante Mendoza, Coco played the role of a young masseur who provides “extra service” to his gay clients by performing sexual acts with them. To research his character, the actor, who was only 23 years old at that time, went with the movie crew to different massage parlors catering to a gay clientele, so that they could meet real-life masseurs.

“I got a massage because I had to do it, because I had to remember and know the  technique  that was being done and what kind they were,”  Coco says.  “Because talking about it is a different kind of thing, the  actual  experience of what is happening is different  .”

Coco had earlier appeared in small roles in the movies Luv Text (2001) and Ang Agimat: Anting- anting ni Lolo (2002), in both of which he was billed as Rodel Nacianceno. For Masahista, talent manager Ed Instrella, who helped out in the film, gave the young actor a new screen name: Coco Martin.

It was a blend of the names of two pop singers—the Hong Kong-born American Coco Lee (female, actually) and the Puerto Rican Ricky Martin. The newbie did not think much of his screen name then. He was, after all, just doing this one film—his ticket to working abroad.

In Masahista, Coco delivered a raw performance, but one that turned out to be life-changing. It won him a Best Actor award from the Young Critics Circle. The film also got invited to several international film festivals. First stop: Switzerland, for the 58th Locarno International Film Festival.

Upon his arrival in the European country, Coco, who had brought along a big traveling bag, put his TNT plans in motion. He befriended a Filipino family that was willing to take him in, but he was warned that it would be hard to get legal papers. Still, he was willing to take the risk.

When the Locarno awards night came, Masahista, to everyone’s surprise, won the Golden Leopard, the top plum, awarded to the best film in the international competition. During the victory party, Coco, after a few rounds of drinks, confessed to Direk Dante and producer Ferdie that he was planning to go TNT in Switzerland.

“They didn’t want to let me in,”  he recalls.  “Because they were going to look for me, because of course we went there  as a group,  and then suddenly where did I go?”

Coco abandoned his TNT plan and went back home. Then the film got invited to more filmfests, including the Toronto and the Vancouver international film festivals in Canada, both in 2005. After the first leg of the trip, in Toronto, Coco told the film crew that he would no longer join them in Vancouver.

“I thought if you don’t let me, I’ll leave alone,”  he says.  “Well, they went to Vancouver. I flew to Alberta. I stayed with my relatives there.”

Staying in the Canadian province of Alberta on a tourist visa, Coco couldn’t get work legally. For the first few months, he stayed in his relatives’ home, cooking and cleaning. “Siyempre, nakikisama ako, e,” he says. After a while, he was able to get odd jobs from fellow kababayans.

“They’ll make you a boy. As long as you can get me something, no matter how much, because I don’t do anything at home, eh. Fixing things, keeping their house clean.”

Coco also experienced working as a janitor at a bingo gaming center. Using his kitchen know-how, he also offered his services as a cook whenever there were special occasions.

“What happened was, when there was an occasion, I would be very drunk, because I was having a great time  at that time,  because I was talking to someone.  After  I cooked, I could drink. I would have something to talk about. Because  abroad,  it was very sad, because people there did nothing but work and work and work.”

Pinoys  in Alberta, he tells us, were juggling up to four jobs. He himself learned other ways to make money, including collecting used plastic bottles for recycling.  “We saved. Every month, we sold them. That’s how I saved up, you know. I made one-hundred  Canadian dollars  .”

Every Saturday, Coco worked as a housekeeper. He worked from 10 am to 5 pm, for which he earned 12 Canadian dollars.  “It took a long time, because no one cleans it like that. They really clean it—for example, their warehouse is messy—they’ll have you fix it.”

One time, Coco even got a raket mowing the lawn of a big housing complex, for which he was offered 50 Canadian dollars for a two-day job. He thought he could finish the work in a day. He was, after all, using a riding mower. But it turned out to be tough.

“It’s hard. The ones you’ll pass through are easy. The corners are the hard ones! Of course, you’ll clean everything, you’ll polish it, eh. Of course, in the morning, it’s so cold,  my jacket  is so thick . By noon, I’m about to faint, because it’s so hot, and you haven’t eaten yet because I want to finish the day.”

He shakes his head at the thought.  “I thought it was easy. I thought I hit the jackpot at  fifty dollars.  It wasn’t!”

Although he was having a hard time finding work, Coco would still send money back home to his family.  “My family knows how beautiful my life is there. I send a lot of money, you know. They don’t know, half of what I save in a month, I send to them.”

The whole time he was in Canada, Coco had a firm resolve to make things work. He had his six-month tourist visa extended for another three months. “Hoping pa rin ako, e,” he admits. But it seemed that his fortune lay elsewhere.

“I went to the  embassy,  ​​asking how to convert  from a tourist to a working visa.  No  chance,  they said. I have to go back to the Philippines and sort out the paperwork there to convert to a  working visa.”

“That’s when I lost my mind. What happened now, when it was really gone, I said  I’ll swallow  my pride  , I have to go back to the Philippines, because nothing will happen to me there. What will I do in Canada if I don’t have a job?”

INDIE PRINCE

Coco didn’t have a choice but to fly back home. Being an HRM graduate, he applied for a job as a waiter at a casino in Rizal province. While he was attending to the employee requirements, he received a call from his Masahista director, Brillante “Dante” Mendoza, who got word that he was back in the country. Direk Dante wanted Coco for another film project.

“At that time,  I hadn’t even started yet,”  Coco recalls.  “I was just completing  my requirements  . I said, ‘Okay.’”

The film was Tirador, where Coco would be playing a pickpocket who steals from devotees of the
Black Nazarene in the midst of the commotion of the annual procession in Quiapo. The shooting conditions were less than ideal. They would be filming, not on a production-design set, but on location, semi-documentary style, during the actual procession attended by millions of devotees.

One scene called for Coco to dive into the thick crowd and somehow make his way to the karosa carrying the statue, so that he could touch any part of the robed statue.

It is believed that the Nazareno grants the prayers of devotees. The actor, who has actually been a devotee of the Nazareno since his younger days, was lucky enough to touch the statue on his first try.

“I will never forget the day I held the Nazarene,”  Coco says.  “Because, from then until now, my work has been going smoothly.”

Coco didn’t really pray for anything specific. He just asked that he be given the chance to find a job.  “I just said, even though I haven’t slept yet, I have a regular job. ‘Then, I didn’t think He would give it to me.”

The newbie actor soon found himself doing one indie film after another with different directors. Sometimes he would shoot up to four films in one month. He forgot all about completing his requirements for the casino job he was applying for.

From his home in Novaliches, he would ride a tricycle, then a jeepney, and finally a bus to get to his shoot locations. The trip would often take more than an hour because of the heavy traffic. He didn’t mind. He fell in love with the process of making films.

“When directors  and  production  meet,  I’m there, I listen.

Later on,  I was one of the ones holding meetings. I was one of the ones developing the story, I was one of the ones looking for  locations,  I was one of the ones doing casting…”

He was able to hone his acting by constantly observing and talking to his co-actors.  “Especially with  veteran actors— you have a lot to learn… When I started, I was like, ‘How do you cry?’ ‘Think about your mother dying,’ he told me. Of course, you’ll cry.”

Through time, Coco learned how to develop the characters he played and how to actually immerse himself in the characters’ lives. “The more  you live  your character  —for example,  your character  fails—you start to feel it. You don’t have to imagine.”

Coco also adapted  Direk  Dante’s technique on how to make acting a scene raw and genuine.  “I don’t read the  script,” he admits.  “The director just tells you the story. He builds your personality.  And then, after that, you never  see the  script.”

It is a method that works for him and that he still applies until now.

“For example, you gave me a  script  today. I read it here. I can imagine it. Then, if  the location is beautiful  in the script  ,  when it comes to the  set  it’s not like that, I’ll be disappointed. In  acting,  when I read it, I can imagine how my co-actors  will deliver  their lines. That’s why what happens is, I don’t read them, so that’s all  .”

Before filming a scene, Coco asks an assistant to throw his lines at him, which he memorizes  quickly. He reasons: “It just sounds like gossip, doesn’t it? I bet you, if I gossip about you, you’ll gossip about others, even more than I told you. Just listen to what you thought of the  line,  and you’ll get it.”

The time came when Coco was enjoying making films so much that he didn’t care how much his talent fee was.  “Sometimes, I reach for the  envelope.  ‘Oh, it’s thick!’ Sometimes, I’m still broke on  gas,  because  at that time,  I had a car.”

Although the talent fee started out small, the actor was able to save up because most of the films he was starring in were competing abroad. By then, he was already being dubbed the Prince of Indie because of his body of work. In attending the international filmfests, aside from the free airfare and accommodation, he was given an allowance per diem.

“What I do, I don’t spend money on her,”  he says.  “ We  have  a budget  —let’s say, one hundred dollars per day.  For example,  we’re there for five days  . Well, no, I have  five hundred dollars  . I take that home.”  He adds:  “What I earn, I give to my grandmother, that’s  my way  to help.”

Besides, what money can’t buy, he says, is the experience of being able to travel and to represent the country.

Sometimes, his films competed with big-budget entries from countries like South Korea. “Catering pa lang ata nila, ’yon na ’yong budget namin para sa buong pelikula,” he jests. Most of the time, though, his low-budget films got critical acclaim from international critics. Coco himself was getting a lot of attention from foreign film producers, who made offers for him to star in their films. But the actor turned them all down.

“First of all, I’m going to have a hard time with English there,”  he reasons.  “Don’t. Make it harder for me. I’m fine in the Philippines. Hahaha!”

Ironically, locally, he and his crew got zero recognition from the mass audience.  “When we compete  abroad,  we get noticed. We win. Here, whoever else is with us in the industry, they are the ones who criticize, they are the ones who put us down. Then,  later on,  they will also do  indie!  That’s why I said, I hope there is nothing like that. Let’s work together, because we will all just help each other out, okay?”

GOING MAINSTREAM

Although he was already making a name for himself in the indie circuit, Coco was still hoping to make a breakthrough and go mainstream. He was cast in the now-defunct GMA afternoon series Daisy Siete, which starred the Sex Bomb dancers. He was even made part of an all-male group called The Studs, together with Kapuso stars Mike Tan, Dion Ignacio, JC Cuadrado, Lance Oñate, Kevin Santos, Felix Roco, and Edgar Allan Guzman.

“At  that  time  , boy groups were all the rage,” Coco says.  “I really didn’t want to, because I couldn’t sing or dance. But they said, ‘You have to join, or else you won’t get a  soap.’  ‘Is that really the way it is?’ I joined. It’s up to you.”

He says, in hindsight:  “That’s how determined I was that no matter what it was, as long as it was work, I would do it. But of course, I wouldn’t put myself in any danger, feeling like  I  would be embarrassed  or  ashamed  or  doing something wrong.”

For his performance in Tambolista in 2007, Coco won his first Gawad Urian for Best Supporting Actor.

Soon, a talent coordinator from ABS-CBN called Direk Dante with an offer for Coco to be the third corner of a triangle in a soap opera starring the Shaina Magdayao-Rayver Cruz love team. Coco thought that was finally the big break he was waiting for.

“Of course,  honestly, at that time,  what I was earning from  indie  was just small. It wasn’t  enough  to really support  my family  , as if I was going to be the breadwinner because I was the one earning the money, eh. It just seemed like a lot, like a racket, eh.”

Two days later, however, the talent coordinator called Direk Dante again and told the award-winning director: “Direk, bold star pala ’yang si Coco Martin, e.” Coco was taken out of the cast.

“I was hurt,”  Coco tells us.  “Because, of course, we’re competing  internationally.  What we’re looking at is the project, right? Not your  image.  Just because you showed a little body,  you’re already  tagged  as a bold actor?  They’ve forgotten that you’re an  actor.  You’re already tagged as such?”

He adds:  “Of course, when you say  bold actor,  it’s like, ‘Doesn’t  what we’re doing make sense  ?’ Whereas  abroad, the more  you show your body, the more courageous you are as  an actor.  Doesn’t that increase your respect? Here, it’s the other way around. Why is that?”

Another inquiry and offer soon came up. That time, he was being asked to play a part in
a teleserye starring Judy Ann Santos. He was supposed to play a gay role. He readily agreed
to do it. But again, the same scenario happened. The caster got wind that Coco was a “sexy actor.”

The actor heaves a sigh. “Whatever  ! That’s how they see me. I don’t want it anymore. It’s like, if  TV  doesn’t respect me and that’s all they see me as, that’s okay. I’m just here in the world I live in, where I’m valued.”

In 2008, Coco was given the honor of attending the prestigious Cannes Film Festival in France for the world premiere of Serbis, an official entry for the festival’s main competition. The film, once again helmed by Direk Dante, also starred Gina Pareño, Jaclyn Jose, Julio Diaz, and Mercedes Cabral.

At the red carpet in Cannes, Jaclyn mentioned to Coco that her director friend, Andoy Ranay, wanted to cast Coco in a role for the ABS-CBN afternoon soap  Ligaw na Bulaklak,  topbilled by Sid Lucero and Roxanne Guinoo. Having previously received job offers that never got anywhere, Coco declined the indirect offer outright. He remembers telling Jaclyn:  “I don’t want to. I’ve been rejected there a few times. And then, the  TV looks down on me.”

But Jaclyn proved to be persuasive. She told him:  “No, it’s just one,  promise. After  this, if it still doesn’t work out, nothing will happen, don’t do it. Forget about the  TV.”

Coco was cynical, but agreed to do the project. He attended the story conference and found out that his role was that of a supporting character who was not really integral to the story. The cast and crew had already been taping for weeks before Coco was called in to shoot his first scene.

“The one who held me back was  the backpack director,  not Direk Andoy,”  he recalls.  “Well,  my role  was that of councilor.  At that time,  I was younger, I was more like a totoy. I was just like a totoy dressed in a barong.”

When the director saw him, Coco heard the director telling the crew that he looked too young for the part but that they didn’t have a choice since he had been chosen for the part. The actor thought, “Eto na naman, rejection na naman aabutin ko, a.” Still, he did what he was tasked to do.

“All I’m going to do is, I’m in a car, I’m going to get out of the car. I’m going to shoot Sid’s police partner to warn Sid that this is who I am.”

When the cameras started rolling, Coco shot the policeman. But then he did something that surprised the crew.

“After I shot him like that, I suddenly turned my attention to Sid. We had a moment where  I was like  , if you try to report him, I’ll kill your whole family. ‘Then, no, just stare. ‘Then, I was in the car. I was staring at him. ‘Then, I ran.  Exit.”

After the scene was finished, Coco heard the director saying, “Sino ’yon?”

A STAR IS BORN

In 2009, ABS-CBN executive Deo Endrinal and his unit, which included Biboy Arboleda, was cooking up a new teleserye called Tayong Dalawa for the popular love team of Kim Chiu and Gerald Anderson, together with Jake Cuenca. The team wanted to cast award-winning actors in supporting roles.

“We did some research on  indies,” Biboy tells YES! Magazine in an interview.  “We watched Cinemalaya. We watched Coco in Direk Francis Pasion’s Jay. ‘I called him  for an audition, among other indie actors.”

Coco got the part of Ramon, the kontrabida to his half-brothers Gerald and Jake.

“The anti-actor,” Biboy describes the Coco he saw. “The  maitim, the madumi, the jologs are an  instant contrast to Gerald Anderson and to Jake Cuenca.”

During the promo shoot, Biboy recalls, Coco was just sitting in one corner. He was “tahimik lang.” He seemed to be observing everyone around him.

Biboy tells the story:  “Everyone calls me,  ‘Mother Biboy.’  Later, Coco came over. ‘Can I call you  Mother Biboy too?’  I laughed so hard!”

Coco broke the ice and asked if Mother Biboy could be his manager. At that time, the actor had parted ways with his manager, Noel Ferrer, and had no representation.

Biboy used to manage stars, such as the late Rico Yan, but had decided to give up talent management after he decided to migrate to the U.S. When he came back to the Philippines, he became a creative consultant for the Kapamilya network. He opened a flower shop. He also became a magazine editor. He had no plans of going back to managing talents, so he had his reservations about Coco’s proposal.

“The gay sisters said  ,  ‘You know, Bibs,  your core  is being a mother, eh.  Your  core  is being a manager.  You know, you can create a Filipino  version  of Rico Yan who is more popular.’ I said, ‘A bit short and dark. Has  a lisp!’  Hahaha!”

Biboy was being realistic. Coco did not fit the typical physical characteristics of a matinee idol—tall, mestizo, and muscular. But something inside Biboy told him to go for it. Besides, he was also concerned for the young actor. Coco was already in Tayong Dalawa, yet he didn’t have a manager. After two days, Biboy called Coco to a meeting.

He agreed to be the actor’s manager. They didn’t have a contract—just a verbal agreement.

Biboy’s first move was to get a product endorsement for his ward. He asked his friend, Ben Chan, to give Coco a clothing sponsorhip from Ben’s apparel brand Bench. The businessman had no idea who the actor was, but trusted Biboy enough to sign Coco to a one-year contract.

Tayong Dalawa was supposed to run for six months, but was extended for another three months due to high ratings. Overnight, it seemed that Coco became a household name.

During an event attended by ABS-CBN employees, the members of the teleserye’s cast were all invited. Not surprisingly, the crowd went gaga over Kim, Gerald, and Jake. But unexpectedly, when Coco went up the stage, he too received loud cheers and applause. Biboy and Deo were surprised.

Deo teased Biboy:  “Hey! What are you doing, huh? You were yelling so loudly at your son earlier. Maybe you emailed and texted all the employees.”

Biboy jested in reply:  “I bought a lot of mamon from  Goldilocks.  I took off the  wrapper and put it on, Ramon’s Mamon!” —referring to the name of Coco’s character in the  teleserye.

That has been a running joke ever since. But the clamor for Coco was not an isolated incident. Biboy was surprised to receive calls from advertising agencies, inquiring about his ward. They wanted to get Coco to endorse a canned food product and an alcoholic drink.

“Endorsements?” Biboy recalls. “  I called my  ad agency friends:  ‘What’s up?  What’s the research?’  They said,  ‘My God, Bibs!  We  typed him.’  They typed  him because he’s a masa, baduy, jologs. I can relate.”

Since his ward was beginning to have a following, Biboy signed a co-management deal with ABS- CBN talent arm Star Magic. He knew he had a diamond in the rough. He wanted to polish up his ward’s image.

“My first problem  was to reinvent him and recreate him, in the manner  I wanted,”  he explains.  “Of course, I was used to it back in the day, I was managing Rico Yan,  so  you have to be  glossy,  you have to speak English, you have to have  a diploma  …”

Biboy enrolled Coco in a personality development program, teaching the actor how to dress, how to conduct himself, and how to speak proper English. The course cost more than P100,000, paid for in full by the talent manager.

“When I study something, I enjoy it,”  Coco tells us.  “When you enjoy it, of course you put it into practice. You really study it. Well, when I was there, I was enjoying it. I felt it.”

Coco was beginning to be conscious of how he conducted himself and was beginning to apply what he was learning in school. He realized that he was changing. He asked for a meeting with his manager. He wanted to quit the program.

Biboy tried reasoning with him:  “That’s the  point!  You need to be different.  Look at the polished Piolo Pascual!  That’s what you’re aiming for.  The stardom of Papa P,  right?  Look at John Lloyd Cruz!  He’s polished too, they’ve acquired him, right?”

For all that, Coco had a valid point. He explained to his manager that everything that he was learning would come to nothing if he didn’t absorb it fully, if it was only for show.

“First of all, I can’t learn English if I don’t speak  English.  It’s necessary, even here at home I speak English, right? My clothes, it’s necessary not just for occasions. It’s necessary, even when I’m at home, I mix-and-match them.

“I will lose what people loved about me, what  I am  . Our work will die. I don’t need to pretend, because I don’t want to achieve fame.  I’m happy  being  a character actor.”

Needless to say, Coco won the argument.

GOING MAINSTREAM

Tayong Dalawa opened the doors for Coco to become one of the Kapamilya network’s top leading men. Soon, he was topbilling teleseryes, starring in movies, endorsing more products, and appearing in shows here and abroad.

It is 2015, and Coco’s raket days are over. He now has an almost 24/7 job.

“I was so tired, I really got to the  point  where, you know, I was taking a shower, and then I couldn’t pour the water out? I wanted to cry, because  for two straight weeks,  I didn’t have any rest.”

There have actually been times when the actor has been hospitalized because of exhaustion. There was a time too when he thought that a freak accident on the set was the end of his career.

The show was Tayong Dalawa. It was one of the last takes of the last scenes in the teleserye. Coco was supposed to get shot. The production team placed a squib, a small explosive device, on his shoulder. Because the actor was wearing a leather jacket, the team rigged the squib to make it more powerful, so that it would break through the leather.

“Suddenly, I was shot, my face was blown up,”  Coco recalls.  “All I know  is,  my face was on fire. Because I saw fire, like a bullet in the face. Then, my face was covered in blood. The blood mixed with the  squib  , and then the blood was on my face.”

Coco was immediately rushed to a hospital. On the way, he had his face in the palms of his hands. He was sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m crying. I feel like a child. I really thought then, it’s over. Because, of course, no matter what we say, we’re still investing in our faces. Besides, who wants to get their faces burned? Hahaha!”

The doctors treated his injuries and removed pieces of wire and leather from the actor’s eyes. Luckily, he recovered—but that wouldn’t be his last accident on a set. While filming the 2012 romantic comedy flick Born to Love You with singer Angeline Quinto, he had another mishap.

“The scene, I was losing my mind. I broke the  diplomas,  because I was angry. It was so  intense,  please! The glass splashed in my eye. It scratched my eye again.”  He shrugs.  “Taka-disgrasya.”

But he takes the good with the bad. Whether it’s accidents or exhaustion that he experiences, Coco can’t bring himself to complain. He always tells himself that he prayed for this for a long time.

“You wanted that, right? Stick with it. Because our reasoning is that there are many who aspire to have this kind of job,”  Coco muses.  “’Then, now that it’s been given to you, if you’re lazy or you’re lazy, it’ll easily be gone. Even though I’m so tired, I always think, ‘Maybe they’ll take it back from you.’”

Because of his fast rise to stardom after his first major teleserye, Coco, like many popular male stars, has not been able to escape unsavory rumors. We ask him if he has ever received indecent proposals from gay television executives.

“Nothing,”  he replies.  “Because—it’s not that I’m not interested, but I’m not  hunky,  eh. They’re not my  market.  Even when I go to  gay  places, they’re attracted to me, but they’re not attracted to me.”

For him, these issues are beyond his control.

“You can’t prevent people from thinking about something.”  What is important, he says, is that he doesn’t waste the opportunities being given to him.

“Many people are given  breaks,  but it depends on  the way  you handle your work. Maybe, I could think about things like that  [indecent proposals],  if for example  , my  break  was, from nothing  I suddenly became the star of a  soap opera.  Everyone else, they saw  the way  I drove myself to where I am now.”

Coco also chooses to stay away from politicking in showbiz. Issues on who gets more work or who gets the support of the management are mere nuisances.

“That’s not what I grew up with. For us in  indie,  the important thing is that you make a project. You’ll be fine. It’s like  every project,  that’s what speaks for me.”

Coco is just thankful that he gets to do a job that he loves.  “Do you know the best part of being an artist? You get to experience everything.”

He gets to fall in love, to experience what it’s like to be rich, and, sometimes, to die in a scene. “Marami kang buhay na nagagawa.”

FOR NOW, SAME OLD DENG

As much as possible, and whenever his schedule permits, Coco tries to accept indie film projects. For him, that’s like taking a refresher course on acting. He sees it as going back to his roots.

“I don’t want to leave  indie,” he tells us. “After  my  soap opera  , I’m going to do an  indie first.  Because I need to get back to being  me  .”

Although he is already a prized Kapamilya talent, Coco says he remains open to all sorts of roles, including the risqué ones. It’s no longer new to him, he reasons. He has already done nudity and sex scenes in his critically acclaimed films.

“I wouldn’t be Coco Martin if I hadn’t gone through all that.  Only a few actors  can do that. And when you look back on  that  history  later on,  that’s what deepens you  as an actor.”

He jests:  “My God! If you saw me, I would be directing  our [sex scene]  , because I know how to protect  my leading lady  .”

But there is one thing that has changed: today, the actor joins the indie project sans talent fee.  “The  budget  that is allocated for you, you just give to  their production  , to make your film better. I will be back, because wherever I am now, that is what opened the door.”

Coco has truly come a long way from being an enterprising young man to a bona fide big
star. Wherever he goes, he is stopped by people asking for a photograph with him. He obliges as much as he can.

“ I also  became  a fan  ,” he reasons.  “I experienced Robin Padilla, he was just a long way away, he nodded at me. I don’t know if it was really me, because there were so many of us, but it scared me. I thought, ‘He’s so kind, really!’”

Coco always keeps that incident in mind whenever he interacts with his fans. He recognizes how a simple gesture like that can affect people’s lives.  “People, happiness is simple. It only happens once in a while in their lives.”

Now that he is a big star himself, the actor makes it a point to give his fans good memories to remember him by. Whenever he is invited to provincial shows, he usually does more than what is asked of him.

“The  rule  is, only two songs,”  he tells us.  “If it’s three,  it’s a bonus  . When I go up, especially if it’s a distant province, sometimes I sing five or seven. Sometimes, the people who came before me or those who came after me would laugh at me,  ‘Concert!’

“It’s okay to laugh at me, because I don’t like it when I just pass by, when I didn’t make the person happy. Should I deny that? I’ve been waiting for them for so long… I’ll take it!”

Although he says he doesn’t know how to carry a tune, Coco has a prepared set whenever he performs onstage.  “First, ‘Pusong Bato,’ ‘then  Eraserheads medley— that’s three of them. There’s  also an Apo medley  ! Hahaha!”

Coco finds it hard to turn down his fans since they are mostly composed of children, men, and the elderly. His manager explains that he is endeared to the lolos and the lolas because of his doting grandson role to his grandmother, played by Gina Pareño, in Tayong Dalawa.

“  Their timing  is perfect , their  bond is perfect,” Biboy comments about Coco and Gina. “  I feel like it’s  a reflection of what he’s really like in real life,  because he’s a grandma’s  boy  .”

The actor does not mind if his audience consists not mainly of the  “bagets.”  He says:  “Who are  my fans  now, I am so  happy  , because I know  they are loyal  . No matter what happens to me, even though I am no longer as popular in people’s eyes, I know they are still there. Because what they saw in me was my talent,  more than  my popularity.”

For Coco, being an actor is just like any other job that needs to be done to the best of one’s ability. Being on the marquee is “not a big deal.”

“If I were weak, if I were easily overwhelmed, I wouldn’t be like this. Maybe I’m arrogant. But that doesn’t justify my character, eh. Because to me, what I did was work,  and then  I did it well.  That’s it.”

Coco believes he is still the same Deng, the same Rodel Nacianceno. He just moved to a bigger home and happens to appear on television and in movies.

“I’m still here. It’s like I just got lucky. It’s like I won the  lottery.  I don’t like them treating me like an artist.”