This is how Cedrick Juan gets the work done

“Parang ang weird niyo.”

Cedrick Juan, clad in a plain black shirt, lends me the key to the door that metaphorically spells out: Intrusive Thoughts of His Teenage Years. He’s in the last leg of shapeshifting for today’s shoot—within a few hours, he morphed into a necktie-obsessed Dead Inside poster boy, a photocopy machine’s best friend, and an almost acrobatic employee of a make-believe corporate realm in our real workplace. 

Now, it’s time to channel a far-off version in his personal history. Face-to-face, we sit in wheeled office chairs, and I try not to make mine revolve as a knee-jerk reaction while he confesses his early impression of theater.

“Anong ginagawa niyo? Parang… parang ang weird niyo,” he initially rummages through his internal vocabulary to find the word but doesn’t hold back in letting it go. This summarizes high school Cedrick’s real-time review, specifically as part of the audience when Sacred Heart Academy’s drama guild would unleash their acting chops onstage. “Sobrang sarado [ko] pa, sobrang insensitive ko pa nung high school. Kasi bata eh.”

While the “weird theater kid” stereotype isn’t exactly a long-departed allegation, I wasn’t really expecting to hear it from Cedrick. It turns out that he was neither enthusiastic to join class role plays nor received a life-changing compliment from a teacher on his future “potential”—a familiar springboard in an actor’s success story, set against the backdrop of a child prodigy-fixated society. 

I’d imagine him being a member of that guild in the first place; his story sharing the same vein as Anne Hathaway’s or Robert Pattison’s who headed that route during early teens. However, the school in Santa Maria, Bulacan witnessed the Cedrick who was glued to games, dance, and chess (where he earned varsity status) instead.

“Feeling ko, late bloomer na ako sa theater. I mean, sa acting talaga,” he tells me, mentioning Philippine High School For The Arts, where a lot of youngbloods find their artistic paths early. “’Yung iba kasi nagsisimula nine [years old], eight, 10 pa lang. Lalo na kung alam mo nang bata ka pa lang gusto mo nang i-pursue ’yung acting.”

This sense of self-doubting comparison also comes off surprising from someone who’s always championed his theater roots any chance he gets, like it’s the only life he’s ever lived. “Maraming maraming salamat teatro!” the 33-year-old passionately shouts in the latter part of his acceptance speech at the Metro Manila Film Festival 2023’s Gabi ng Parangal, like he hadn’t already mentioned theater at the start of it. Visibly emotional, he faced the crowd as the newly hailed best actor for his performance in “GomBurZa,” beating veterans like Christopher de Leon and Piolo Pascual. 

The current habitat of Cedrick’s trophy—a wooden clapperboard and film reel hybrid—is a mini cabinet beside his bed. “Whenever I feel down, siyempre ’pag nakita mo ’yung side na ’yun, parang somehow it will boost your confidence,” he says. “Makita mo lang siya, ‘Okay, game. Let’s go.’”

There’s another MMFF trophy there, too: One for 2016 entry “Oro,” where he bagged best ensemble cast together with Irma Adlawan, Joem Bascon, and Mercedes Cabral, among others. Also a best supporting actor nominee, Cedrick that time sported long hair, which would probably spark a realization. This might be the first time you hear his name a lot, but not the first time you’ve seen him.

He wore the shoes of Otep Miranda, Basti’s best friend in teleserye “Till I Met You,” Colonel Jose Leyba, adjutant of Emilio Aguinaldo in “Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral,” and Maximo, a rich suitor of the “Mula sa Buwan” ’verse, among many others. He even appeared in anthology shows like “Ipaglaban Mo” and “Tadhana”. How omnipresent. From supporting to side characters, Cedrick’s filmography is stellar in range; he’s experienced dealing with stories about mental health, the LGBTQIA+ community, and other pressing social issues. After all, he’s been acting for a decade.

“Nagsimula kasi kami sa theater talaga na, there [are] no ‘small roles,’” he says with conviction. “Personally, hindi ko kino-consider na maliit lang ’yung role ko, ito lang gagawin ko. Once na nag-commit ka doon sa trabaho na ’yun, kailangan mong ibigay talaga kung anong hinihingi ng role, eh. So, talagang you will do your research, you will write all your characterization, bubuuin mo talaga siya.”

“Porket hindi siya lead, hindi mo na siya bibigyan ng so much effort and love?” he continues. “Kahit sabihin pa nating bit role ’yan, hindi mabubuo ’yung kwento [nang wala ’yan]. And kahit naman tayo as human beings, ’yung narrative natin sa daily lives, meron kang babanggitin na sobrang saglit lang pero alam mo ’yung significance nun.”

With this, Cedrick gets his work done seriously. By that, I mean: meticulously, intricately, tirelessly. Also wholeheartedly, genuinely, and with consideration. 

“Ang una kong ginagawa talaga, as in binabasa ko from time to time, multiple times, ’yung script. Kasi gusto kong maintindihan muna ’yung kwento. Once na nalaman ko na ’yung art ng buong kwento, that’s the time na titingnan ko na ’yung role,” he reveals.

His process became a bit more multilayered for “GomBurZa,” though. As Padre Burgos, the first step shifted into requesting language coaches, where the JesCom (Jesuit Communications) Philippines would step in to help with Spanish and Latin. His first coach, Spanish actor Julio Perillan, was a Zoom call away. He also learned from Mr. Chaco and Roven Alejandro face-to-face.

“Kahit sabihin pa nating bit role ’yan, hindi mabubuo ’yung kwento [nang wala ’yan]. And kahit naman tayo as human beings, ’yung narrative natin sa daily lives, meron kang babanggitin na sobrang saglit lang pero alam mo ’yung significance nun”

“Pagkatapos nun, doon ko na unti-unting dinudumihan ’yung script. Nag-be-beats and units na ako,” he describes. “For example, sobrang dami mo talagang gagawin na mga lines, [so] kailangan mo nang somehow maging technical when it comes to the script.”

“Bukod sa support from historians ng JesCom, nandun na rin siyempre as an actor, kailangan may initiative ka to research more for yourself,” he adds. “Inuna ko na ’yung different social classes during that time, kasi about discrimination talaga. Tapos, kung bakit powerful ang mga friars during that time compared to the Governor General, and ’yung personal relationship ni Padre Burgos kay Father Pedro Pelaez, Gomez, Zamora; and his favorite students Buencamino and Paciano. And siyempre biography niya.”

Meanwhile, an Instagram post would show his dedicated relationship with the physical screenplay, which belonged to him for a month and a half. In director Pepe’s POV, Cedrick had “done so much work analyzing” Padre Burgos, as shown in the comments. 

In Cedrick’s process, questions are also default. “Hindi nawawala sa akin ’yung nagtatanong ako sa writer and director—kung ano pa ’yung beyond na maiintindihan at makikita ko sa role na binibigay niyo sa akin dito sa script na meron ako.”

This persistent curiosity traces back to a turning point in his youth. What used to be indifference with acting in high school evolved into love come third year college. Enemies-to-lovers, I quip, to which Cedrick agrees. A mass communication major at Far Eastern University, he soon became part of the campus’ theater guild.

“Ako ’yung laging sobrang nakikinig, dahil marami pa akong hindi alam,” he recalls. “Very curious type talaga. Well, feeling ko kahit naman ngayon. We never stop learning sa buhay. Kung merong nagsasalita na alam kong interested ako [or] hindi ko alam totally ’yung topic, talagang nakikinig ako. Gusto kong ma-consume siya to the point na magkakaroon ako ng interest na i-research pa siya.”

“As an actor kasi, ang kailangan mo munang [matutuhan] is to listen eh. Kasi ’pag nakinig ka, somehow magiging natural na ’yung reaction mo,” he pensively explains. “[Ganun] ako lumaki as a theater actor.”

After FEU comes his Dulaang UP chapter in 2013, what he considers the official foray into acting. A personal choice for a deeper dive. Dulaang UP was also an onlooker on his transformed relationship with criticism, when he tried auditioning for Tony Mabesa’s play three times.

“Never akong nakapasok. I was thinking, ‘What’s wrong with me?’” he admits. “Eventually na-realize ko, ‘Ah okay, there’s something missing sa akin na hinahanap ni Sir Tony.’”

“Naging normal na lang siya sa ’kin. Every after audition, wala na, [binibitiwan] ko na siya. Hindi na ako nag-e-expect minsan. Siyempre meron akong konting percentage na, ‘Sana tumawag.’ Pero hindi na ganun ka-personal compared nung nagsisimula ako, na sobrang eager beaver ako,” he says. “Every night iniisip ko kung bakit ’di pa nagrereply, ’di pa nag-me-message sa ’kin.”

During that stint, a few roles he took on were also in historical territory—Emilio Aguinaldo and Emilio Jacinto in “Teatro Porvenir.” Is this prioritization deliberate?

“Alam mo kasi, innate na sa akin ’yung love ko for history. If ever na in-offer sa ’kin, [hindi ako] mapapaisip or mahihirapan—gusto kong gumawa nang gumawa,” he tells me sincerely, as if letting in on a secret. “Bata pa lang ako, mahilig ako magbasa ng encyclopedia talaga. Fascinated ako sa history ng bawat country.”

Cedrick loved history first before acting. While most kids would dub Araling Panlipunan as boring or difficult, Cedrick is a self-proclaimed active and happy student during the subject. Even the Rizal classes would make him super happy.

“Innate na sa akin ’yung love ko for history. If ever na in-offer sa ’kin, [hindi ako] mapapaisip or mahihirapan—gusto kong gumawa nang gumawa”

Add in his penchant for the medieval times, apparent in his binge-watching habits: “‘Vikings.’ [Or] kahit sabihin na natin na fictional ’yung ‘Game of Thrones.’ Gusto ko ’yung feel ng medieval times. How they spoke, how they interacted with each other, paano ’yung demeanor nila. Nandun na ’yung innate love ko for history, na-e-excite ako na gawin siya. Pero siyempre extra challenging ’yun compared to contemporary roles.”

But his love for history goes beyond being enamored—respect is in the equation. 

“[In a historical film], we can only do so much about humanizing the characters. Kasi kailangan factual pa rin siya. Kailangan naka-base pa rin sa historical accounts ’yung mga ginagawa mo. Sabihin nating mga 10 percent lang naman ’yung freedom mo as an actor para magbigay ng something about you dun sa role na ’yun,” he argues. 

In one of Cedrick’s recent Instagram Stories, I randomly spot a cheesy TikTok-based fan edit of him. The actor shared it, explaining that he’s mainly doing so because he doesn’t always receive things like that.

“Wala akong TikTok, so si Karen (Cedrick’s girlfriend) tapos mga kapatid ko ang nagpapakita sa ’kin ng mga videos. Feeling ko, ang pinaka-core naman kasi talaga is appreciation,” he explains, even mentioning the “‘Fleabag’ effect” (thanks to the Hot Priest) the internet would link him with. 

“Minsan natatawa ako, pero ayokong patulan din siya [nang] sobra, kasi siyempre respect din naman kay Padre Burgos. Kumbaga, nagbigay lang naman ako ng life sa kanya somehow,” he admits. “Mahirap na ’yung parang sinasakyan ko lang ’yung hype. Para sa akin responsibility pa rin ’yung pagiging artist.”

Aside from setting boundaries, Cedrick sees an artist’s responsibility as something more proactive: “It’s really about finding the truth. [As an actor], find the truth of the script. Find the truth of your character. So, if larger scale siya, always seek the truth. Hindi naman black and white ’yun eh. Kung against man siya sa way mo, pero kung ’yun ’yung truth, tatanggapin mo pa rin siya. Kasi ’yun ’yung truth.”

“It’s really about finding the truth. [As an actor], find the truth of the script. Find the truth of your character. So, if larger scale siya, always seek the truth”

With added confidence in his voice, he continues: “Speak up and do something about sa mga maling nangyayari. ’Yung boses kasi natin, napakahalaga. Kapag collectively tayong nagsasalita at may ginagawa doon sa topic, for example, about injustices, ’di ba, nabo-bother ’yung mga oppressors?”

“Speak up and do something about sa mga maling nangyayari. ’Yung boses kasi natin, napakahalaga. Kapag collectively tayong nagsasalita at may ginagawa doon sa topic, for example, about injustices, ’di ba, nabo-bother ’yung mga oppressors?”

At the same, he’s also aware that having the ability to speak up for the underprivileged is a privilege. The existence of choice, in the first place, is also a privilege.

“Ang pagpili kasi, privilege ’yan eh. So, hindi tayo makakapili lagi. Nagpapakatotoo lang ako, minsan ’pag talagang, paano kung wala ka talagang pera? Minsan may gagawin ka talaga na, ‘Ah okay, kailangan ko kasi for bills,’” he unpacks how being ideal gets difficult, when I asked about the specific criteria he has in picking roles.

“Dumating din sa point na somehow, nagkaroon [na ako] ng privilege. ’Pag alam ko na parang magiging fake news peddler ako dito; parang magbibigay ako ng maling inspiration dito,” he cites examples of scenarios he can’t deal with. “Minsan akala natin na ’yung pagiging ideal natin, hindi tayo out-of-touch. Minsan out-of-touch nga tayo kapag sobrang ideal natin. Kasi nawawala na tayo sa reality na kailangan nating harapin.”

One of the more memorable roles Cedrick took on was Erika, a gay character in 2016 MMFF entry “Die Beautiful.” Given this, I had to bring up the elephant in the room: Does he agree that queer roles should be strictly assigned to the queer community? 

“You know what, magandang topic ’yan,” he replies, adjusting in his seat. He mentions a conversation he had with trans actress Serena Magiliw in a ro-ro going to Romblon. “Ced, I know na you did ‘Die Beautiful.’ What can you say about it?” she asked.

Cedrick, who considers himself an ally, listened to Serena’s sentiments, which include how letting the community take on these roles is also economical for them.

“So, when it comes to doing queer roles, [diyan ako mas] magiging picky. Kasi nga with proper representation and it’s a lived experience—’yun nga ‘yung sinasabi nila,” he explains, highlighting how he knows better now. “Pwedeng sa iba, oo, ang point mo naman ay bibigyan ng justice at bibigyan ng information pa ’yung madla. Pero ’yung iba kasi, lived experience. Kasi hindi ko ’yun life at hindi ko ’yun na-experience.”

Ultimately, Cedrick just wants roles that would positively impact society. “Para sa akin, [a good actor] is about [the] sensitivities na [you’re] not just working for yourself, you’re also working towards your community. And also, kung paano mo susuportahan ’yung mga katrabaho mo,” he says.

“A good actor para sa akin ay ’yung work ethics. For longevity kasi, napakalaking bagay talaga nun—magaan ka katrabaho, tapos pupunta ka sa set na alam mo na ’yung gagawin mo. Hindi ikaw ’yung magiging cause of delay. Para sa ’kin, mas mahirap ’yun kaysa sa magpagaling umarte.”

But Cedrick seems to create a good balance of both. In our shoot, he does more than what is asked—he shifts to risky and playful poses like it’s an everyday thing, even giggling in between. “Son Goku!” my teammate remarks, seeing the actor’s stylized hair.

Goku would also later pop up in my chat with the actor. “Mahilig ako mag-drawing dati. Kaming magkakapatid, may mga teks kami. Maglalagay kami ng character diyan,” he tries to demonstrate. “Tapos ida-draw namin sila, for example, si Goku ng ‘Dragon Ball Z.’”

“A good actor para sa akin ay ’yung work ethics. For longevity kasi, napakalaking bagay talaga nun—magaan ka katrabaho, tapos pupunta ka sa set na alam mo na ’yung gagawin mo. Hindi ikaw ’yung magiging cause of delay. Para sa ’kin, mas mahirap ’yun kaysa sa magpagaling umarte.”

Cedrick is the second eldest among seven siblings. Did he convert that pressure into his acting as well? 

“Sa tingin ko, oo. ’Yung ate ko kasi, ate ko siya sa mom ko. Tapos parang nakasama na lang namin siya, parang fourth year college na siya, so parang ako rin ’yung tumatayong panganay,” he recounts. 

“’Yung pagiging captain ng ship sa aming magkakapatid, nagamit ko siya. Paano ko siya nagamit sa acting—mas nagiging chill ako when it comes to disastrous situations. Kasi medyo nag-se-step back ako to assess everything. Kasi ’di ako pwedeng, abruptly na lang mag-react or parang bigla na lang akong magkakaroon ng reaction without thinking twice.”

“’Yung pagiging captain ng ship sa aming magkakapatid, nagamit ko siya. Paano ko siya nagamit sa acting—mas nagiging chill ako when it comes to disastrous situations. Kasi medyo nag-se-step back ako to assess everything. Kasi ’di ako pwedeng, abruptly na lang mag-react or parang bigla na lang akong magkakaroon ng reaction without thinking twice.”

Being observant and vulnerable are acting’s gifts to him. I’d also witness the latter in motion as he shows me Loki—his dog that crossed the rainbow bridge in 2021—immortalized on the tattoo on his right arm and his phone wallpaper. 

“‘Yung grief, hindi naman siya mawawala,” he says. “Para sa akin, deserve ng someone na ’yun ’yung grief ng isang tao. Lalo na kung sobrang minahal. Parang ako, from time to time maaalala ko, maiiyak ako minsan. ‘Ah okay, ibig sabihin sobrang mahal ko siya.’”

“Wala namang tatagal dito, ’di ba? Doon din naman lahat. Una-unahan lang. So cherish the moment habang nandito ka,” he muses, opening up a more existentialist atmosphere in our chat.

“Para sa akin, deserve ng someone na ’yun ’yung grief ng isang tao. Lalo na kung sobrang minahal. Parang ako, from time to time maaalala ko, maiiyak ako minsan. ‘Ah okay, ibig sabihin sobrang mahal ko siya.’”

I tell him that he always seems to look for a purpose in everything. This guy doesn’t look like he’ll do anything just for the plot. It’s the maturity he developed, he claims, realizing what he’s doing is not just work.

He says he’s grown from the Cedrick 10 years ago in CineRepublika, where he also bagged another best actor award. When you try to talk to him about his advocacies, like more history-driven projects and the animal welfare-focused Pawssion Project, he’ll never run out of words. 

His “weird” first impression on theater would even morph into a new meaning. “You’re weird, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” he argues. 

Even Padre Burgos’ presence somehow reached the room we’re conversing in: “That’s the reason why magkaharap tayo ngayon, magkausap tayo.”

Aside from family and friends, Cedrick’s dream audience is a much larger crowd: “’Yung mga taong walang privilege manood. ’Yung mga first time, galing sa mga malalayong probinsya, the less fortunate.”

His current audience, based on a long stream of reshared IG Stories, are the future. Students inside the cinema, with their 0.5 selfies, teary eyes, and chaotic antics, would tag Cedrick and share a quote from “GomBurZa.” Many times, they turn into spontaneous reaction papers, or just genuine gratitude on having a better look at history post-screening—especially when denialism and forgetting have become bigger monsters to kill.

It might have taken too long for the acting gods to give Cedrick his flowers. Somewhere, there’s a “late bloomer” sentiment, and a 10-year history in this story. Rejections, redirections. But the actor is not running late. 

“Kung wala lang akong rehearsal, kaya ko pang mas [mahabang interview],” Cedrick kindly assures me, thinking he cut our conversation short. I tell him we’ve actually wrapped up.

He’s just made it on time, and is more present than ever. 

Words by Jelou Galang
Photography by JT Fernandez
Creative direction by Nimu Muallam-Mirano
Styling by Jana Silao
Makeup by Aron Guevara
Hair by Dorothy Mamalio
Photography assistant Colleen Cosme
Styling assistant Sophie Silao
Produced by Kleo Catienza and Clara Umali