BORN in Bacolod, Jesusa Purificacion Levy Sonora would travel to Manila not to seek her fortune but, as the tale goes, to find a school where she could train in Speech and Drama. A teacher had encouraged her to train in that field having shown her skill in drama and oration while studying in the Augustinian’s La Consolacion College. In Manila, she would head off to Sampaguita Pictures to see in person her idol, Gloria Romero, then the reigning Queen of Philippine Movies. Never did she think perhaps that one day she would gain the status of her own screen idol when Dr. Jose Perez approached her and offered Susan the chance to be a movie star. Did it occur to the big man at Sampaguita, the legendary discoverer of stars, that that in that moment he beheld the next queen of the local film industry?
Queens of cinema in those days never really faded; they just stood by, witnessing an era passing even as they remained respectable and beloved, with roles that were tailored to fit their age and status. Thus, Jesusa would be Susan—Susan Roces—and she would reign for decades. Not alone but with another queen, Amalia Fuentes.
The fact of her not being alone on that throne did not diminish the aura of dignity and attention around Susan Roces; rather, it highlighted what she was vis-a-vis this other beauty, Amalia.
To Amalia Fuentes’s elegance and strong Caucasian features, Susan Roces had this loveliness and charm, accessible but nevertheless a beauty of stellar proportion. To Doc Perez, Roces would possess “the face that refreshes,” a title that became a counterpoint to how her rival, Fuentes, was presented.
Their rivalry was so strong that it defined the kind of beauty favored in the land. Was female independence acceptable? Was sweetness and graciousness a default trait for women? It divided the generation of women (and men) in the ‘50s and until the ‘60s. From these two fiefdoms of fans were produced the taste and aesthetics of the films wherein Susan Roces and, for that matter, Amalia Fuentes would star.
Susan and Amalia would first costar in Tulisan in 1962. In the same year, the two actresses would be given, to use a favorite word, “challenging” roles in separate films: Fuentes would star in Amaliang Mali-Mali and Roces would appear in her own film, Susanang Daldal. Both roles would be defined as “offbeat.” While Luis Gonzales provided a light romp as leading man to Amalia Fuentes, imagine Susan Roces with Dolphy and Panchito in her own comic outing.
The marked—as marketed—differences between these two stars would reach its early apotheosis with a film, titled Amaliang Mali-Mali vs. Susanang Daldal. This time, the two would play warring, wild and wacky stepsisters. It was billed as the “bout of the century” and, mot surprisingly, turned out to be a box-office hit. This film followed the first time they faced off as adversaries in the film Tulisan. The poster available on Video48 (video48.blogspot.com) shows the two actresses with daggers, out to harm each other, in a movie described as “the most electrifying clash of the year.”
By the late 1960s, Roces and Fuentes were still the movie queens but this time, they have charted a different course in filmography. Fuentes favored more offbeat roles; Roces remained the actress, undisturbed in her gentility and sweetness, and most beautiful even in her most dramatic, heart-wrenching scenes. As such, Susan Roces was never favored to win the awards from what was then the most prestigious award-giving body, the FAMAS. Great names like Lolita Rodriguez, Marlene Dauden, Rita Gomez and Charito Solis were monopolizing the field.
However, by the 1970s, Susan Roces would experience a succession of nominations for FAMAS Best Actress. In 1974, the industry took notice of her appearance in Celso Ad. Castillo’s Patayin mo sa Sindak si Barbara, a film that would see a remake in 1995 starring the major stars of that decade. Working against typecasting, the actress would appear in another Ad. Castillo’s gothic masterpiece, Maligno, which brought Susan Roces her first FAMAS trophy. This was in 1978. In 1979, Susan would again win an acting award for her role as Maruja (a character she already played in Armando de Guzman’s Maruja in 1967) in Lino Brocka’s Gumising Ka, Maruja. As the heroine from the magical pen of Mars Ravelo, her Maruja remains a study in how pure beauty can seduce through time and space, love endless and terrifying. The actress who called to mind bloom and vitality had now become the undisputed leading lady of a genre, the horror film. Melodrama playing with the terrifying became her domain.
The awards may have come late for Susan Roces but when they were given, they came bountiful. In 2003, the Film Academy of the Philippines (FAP) honored her with the Lifetime Achievement Award. From FAMAS, belated as it may appear, she received in 2017 the FAMAS Lifetime Achievement Award, reminding us of this actress with some 150 films to her name outside of her being an outstanding symbol of glamor during the years FAMAS held sway over the film circle. From Cinema One Original, one of the major bastions of independent filmmaking, Susan would get the Cinema One Legend Award. From her beloved movie press, the actress who never became controversial in her long career was offered the Natatanging Bituin ng Siglo (Outstanding Star of the Century). These are but just some of her great commendations. From many sources also came the talk that Susan was a consistent but silent donor to charities.
For her admirers, fans and critics, there could be constant debate as to which film did she really excel in. For historians of cinema, however, Susan Roces recalls the era, long gone, of actors who spoke of conviction and with such verve when lines about principles, values and notions of humanity were written into those long dialogs. In those moments—in the 1950s and in the 1960s—Susan Roces rose to the occasion as the voice of unwavering personal beliefs, in that halting but effervescent cadence that marked the tradition of acting in the lost golden years of Philippine cinema. She portrayed these characters of goodness and kindness with such aplomb, we thought all beautiful women should have good hearts in them. For this and more, we thank Susan Roces.
There is more to thank Susan Roces, however, and this was in those fateful days following the death of her husband, Fernando Poe Jr., when she faced the media and the government. Recall her face in tears, her face grimaced, the kindness gone, rage in place, as she berates and mocks a major TV newscaster on how the networks belittled her Ronnie, the actor running for president. Then, in June 2005, a day that was meant for her alone, the universe listened and listened long, as she declared, together with those calling for the resignation of Arroyo, how this president’s government had stolen the election not once but twice. That was her role for the century and humanity, a role that convinced us the face that refreshes could also be the face of moral authority and political vigor.