If you know him from high school in Davao, you might call him “Tokwa.” If you know his literary works, you might call him “Joshua.” If you’re his friend in Manila or a colleague at the university, you might call him “Josh.” And if you have seen him onstage in “Ang Babae sa Septic Tank 4,” you might call him “Joshua… Josh, Joshie.”
Now if you were also wondering what Joshua Lim So, a Palanca Hall of Fame playwright, was doing with a cast of seasoned thespians led by no less than Eugene Domingo—well, that makes you and him both.
Not really his thing
When he received a message asking if he would join the production as an actor, he assumed it was just a copy-paste error—or, at most, an invitation to co-write the script with Chris Martinez, the brains behind the “Septic Tank” franchise.
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“They told me, ‘No, we want you as an actor.’ I was like, ‘What… Okay?!’” Lim So tells Lifestyle Inquirer in an interview after “Septic Tank 4’s” July 30 evening show at the PETA Theater Center.
But the team was insistent. As it turned out, renowned playwright-actor Rody Vera was initially approached for the part but turned it down because of a prior commitment. Lim So was the second choice; Martinez even showed his notes to prove he wasn’t just pulling his leg.
Acting, he says, isn’t really his thing. The last time he did it was 15 years ago, playing a filler role in a very intimate show. He didn’t have time for workshops. And he was expected to do around 50 shows with no alternates—“insane!” But at that point, he just had to trust that they knew what they were doing.
“Naisip ko na kung naniniwala sila sa ‘kin, maniniwala na rin ako sa sarili ko na kaya ko,” says Lim So, whose notable works include “Pagkapit sa Hangin,” “Silver Lining,” and “Tungkol Kay Angela.”
Intimidating
But despite his misgivings, he must say that the prospect of acting alongside Domingo, the star of the first play he ever saw at the University of the Philippines in 2006, was tempting in a romantic sense—like “a cool full-circle moment.” The reality was more sobering.
In rehearsals, and especially during the actual shows, Lim So was reminded why he never considered becoming an actor in the first place. As if playing a heightened version of himself wasn’t challenging enough, he had to keep up with the cream of the Philippine theater scene—on a raked stage at that, which takes getting used to even for the most experienced.
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“I was very intimidated. Nakakawindang ‘yung idea na first time ko to act professionally and it’s with Eugene. They’re all established actors—even those in the ensemble are all strong enough to lead productions,” he says of the cast, which also includes JC Santos, Andoy Ranay, Marlon Rivera, Melvin Lee, Meann Espinosa, and Stella Cañete Mendoza.
“It was too nerve-wracking for me,” Lim So adds. “But then I was just like, f*ck your fears. You’re in service of the entire production. It’s not about me. You have to push through your insecurities kasi pwede ka nilang lamunin.”
All things considered, he’s just relieved he didn’t freeze or melt down in front of people. But while deep down he felt he was just winging it and white-knuckling through it, Domingo saw something in him that he didn’t. One time backstage, the actress—out of the blue—looked at him and said, “Alam mo, marunong kang umarte.”
“Nawasak ako dun! I wasn’t sure I was doing it right, but she was the first to give encouragement,” he says. “I was like, ‘Ate Uge, kung alam mo lang how much that means to me!’”
Cult of personality
Although he was hired primarily as an actor, the playwright in him wouldn’t just let him read the text. He found himself reading between the lines, too.
“Septic Tank 4” is described as a “chaotic meta-comedy about ego, art, and the messy reality of making Philippine theater today.” And indeed, most discussions and reviews circle around the play’s critique of or commentary on the industry. Lim So, however, is more interested in its political undercurrents.
Act 1 evokes the cult of personality and shows how Domingo’s character wins people over with her humor, charisma, and sheer force of presence—much like politicians who have a way of magnetizing voters. Act 2, on the other hand, is when “sh*t hits the fan” and reveals the stark difference between what she says and what she actually does.
“Politicians are very good at selling things, but what they do—and how they act when they’re in power—that’s the true measure of their character and work as a politician,” he says. “That’s how I read it.”
Heartening stage debut
The play touched on no shortage of weighty ideas for him to chew on: the so-called renaissance of local theater, its sustainability and Manila-centricity, and the implications of AI for creativity. But curiously, one of the things Lim So became unwittingly associated with was a seemingly throwaway bit in the script.
In one scene, Domingo calls him “Joshua, Josh, Joshie”—a line that, in true Chris Martinez fashion, was written with “a rhythm that guides the comedy.” They didn’t expect it to be anything more than a passing gag, but by the second show, the crowd was so tickled by it that they started reciting it themselves—and did so without fail in every show that followed.
Before long, fans were waiting for him after the show, calling him “Joshua, Josh, Joshie” as they asked for his autograph. “It’s something I hadn’t anticipated—na may magpapapicture at pirma, but siyempre nakakatuwa,” he says.
Lim So says the experience gave him a newfound appreciation for how difficult acting can be. And while he finds the warm reception to his stage debut heartening, he isn’t looking to trade the desk for the spotlight anytime soon.
But who knows? “Maybe if the right opportunity comes along… or kapag tinopak ako!”
