Words by Samantha Radaza • August 15, 2026

Non-fiction • Interviews

In a town like Sibonga, Cebu, where music, performance, and artistry come as naturally as breathing, talent is never in short supply. Ask anyone here and they will rattle off names with pride: the legendary Gloria Sevilla, ilado gyud as one of Philippine TV’s haligi; Rayn Charity Codilla, a familiar face in singing competitions who once shared a stage with this writer, though in separate performances, and had been a booked guest performer everywhere in the Visayas; the Barulo Brothers, celebrated songwriter-composers who mentored a generation of Glee Club members, this writer included; the late Antonio Camomot of Sibonga Community College, remembered for guiding young lyricists and composers; and Karla Abapo, who has made her mark in dance sports. But every so often, someone emerges not simply through skill, but through grit, patience, and an unshakable belief in “puhon.”

For many of us who grew up here, watching Dan Lopez on screen was nothing new. He was a fixture, almost a comforting presence in our living rooms, especially during Lenten season short films. But behind that familiarity lies a story of grit and perseverance spanning more than a decade and a half.

“I’ve been in the acting industry for 16 years,” Dan shares. “I started when I was 17, through theatre.”

That beginning traces back to Southwestern University, where he performed at venues like the Cebu Coliseum and Aznar Coliseum. At 20, his career took a turn when friends studying mass communication, then an OJT at ABS-CBN Cebu, helped get him discovered. He was brought in as a talent and stayed on for three years as a reenactment actor, often without pay.

“Walay Talent Fee, walay kasiguraduhan,” he recalls of those early days, just the drive to keep acting.

In 2013, he found a more permanent home at Cebu Catholic Television Network (CCTN), where he has remained ever since. Over the years, he has built a body of work that includes roughly 60 drama anthologies, 15 teleseryes, and four sitcoms.

“Didto gyud nahasa akong acting,” he says of CCTN, reflecting on the decade that shaped him from age 21 to the present.

His first brush with the film festival circuit came in 2018, at the Sinulog Film Fest, and it did not go the way he hoped.

“To be honest, na-frustrate gyud ko. Nominated ko, but I didn’t win,” he admits. At 25, still carrying what he now calls an immature mindset, he had wanted the win badly. “Nakaingon ko ato, ‘basin dili ni para sa akoa.’”

For two weeks, he seriously considered walking away from acting altogether. But something inside him shifted, and instead of quitting, he chose to try again.

That October, he joined the 4th Sinegugma Film Fest 2018 and won his first acting award: Best Actor, for playing a farmer in Bahandi. It became the turning point of his career.

The wins that followed came in quick succession. In 2021, he submitted a film to his director titled Isolasyon, and that November, he claimed Best Actor at a film festival in New Jersey, USA, his first international accolade.

“Na-happy ko kay like, ‘hala, nakadaog man dayon ko’g best actor tapos abroad man dayon,’” he says. News outlets reached out once word spread that a Cebuano had won in the U.S., and the exposure opened doors to endorsement deals and other opportunities.

That December, he entered another competition tied to the Cebu City Substance Abuse Program, taking home Best Supporting Actor for a drug-related story titled Gugma sa Amahan. Come March, he joined the Gawad Sining Film Festival, a national competition, and did not expect to win. He and one other actor, based in Manila, both clinched Best Actor honors that year, a result he calls “sagunson,” one win chasing another.

“I was happy kay naka-bring ko’g pride to our community diri sa Cebu,” he says.

Not long after, Ang Katapusang Tindak earned him recognition at a film festival in India. That was when the title stuck: Cebu’s Multi-Awarded Actor. He remains, as of this writing, the only Cebuano actor to hold that distinction.

His momentum carried into television as well. In November 2021, he was cast as lead in an episode of Kapuso Mo, Jessica Soho: Gabi ng Lagim, a three-part anthology that also featured Bianca Umali in the first segment and Rabiya Mateo in the third.

“Naamaze gyud pud ko sa akong self nga nakasabayan gyud nako ang mainstream actors,” ingon siya.

In 2023, he received a scholarship from the Film Development Council of the Philippines (FDCP) for an acting program, the only Cebuano actor chosen that year among mostly Manila-based peers and one participant from Bacolod. The shift from Cebuano to Tagalog, even mid-scene, caught him off guard at first.

“Na-culture shock pud ko kay akong language ba. Cebuano baya ko tapos kalit nga para makigconverse kay dapat Tagalog,” he laughs at the memory. Under mentors Angeli Bayani, Tirso Cruz III, and director Jose Javier Reyes, he spent a week in a crash course that culminated in a final recital. He doubted himself going in. In the end, he didn’t need to.

For all the accolades, however, Dan remains grounded.

“Always remind yourself to be humble.” He pauses thoughtfully. “If love gyud nimo, passion takes time. Worth it ra gyud na tanan.”

He recalls how his talent fee started small and grew only gradually, hinay hinay, over years of steady work. One of his most memorable roles, in Tindak, called for something not in the original script.

“Dan, naa may depression imong role diri ba. What if magpaupaw ka or semi-upaw ani nga scene?” his director asked, promising it could help him land Best Actor. Dan agreed and shaved his head for the part.

“Gihimo nako siya kay gusto nako mahimong proud akong parents ug akong director,” he says. It remains one of the choices he is proudest of, precisely because it pushed him further than he thought he would go. Then I asked Lopez whether regional artists are finally getting their due, and he answers with the perspective of someone who has somehow lived both sides of the industry.

“Bisaya actors are very patient and hardworking,” he emphasizes. Where Manila-based talents tend to carry stronger, more assertive personalities and will say no when something does not sit right with them, he sees a different pattern among Bisaya performers. “Usahay, mura’g people pleaser ta, we follow instructions without complaint.”

Still, he has watched the landscape shift. When he started, options were limited mostly to IFT and FMA, since film schools were scarce. Now, more students are enrolling in Bachelor of Cinema programs and filmmaking courses, and the local scene has grown considerably.

He points to the wave that began around 2009 and 2010, led by figures like director Victor Villanueva, known for the iconic Bisdak film Patay na si Hesus and his more recent hit series Golden Scenery of Tomorrow, starring Bea Binene and Bisaya actor Wilbert Ross, alongside Enrique Gil’s Big Bird.

He also cites Pinikas, a full-length film shot entirely in Cebuano, as proof of how far the industry has traveled. Its success on the national stage, long dominated by Tagalog productions, showed him something new was possible. “Layo na gyud. Possible gyud diay nga ma-level ta sa Manila,” he adds with visible pride.

For Dan, what sets Bisaya storytelling apart is its honesty. “Our stories are close to home. Naay depth. Naay hugot.” He points to how local productions showcase faith, from devotion to the Santo Niño and the Birhen sa Regla to the Marian shrine in Simala, Sibonga, as well as a distinctly Cebuano sense of humor, one that outsiders sometimes misread as intense. “For us it’s an expression, a joke, pero sila sa mga Tagalog makuyawan na,” he jests lightly.

It is also, he notes, a chance to move past decades of stereotyped roles that cast Bisaya characters mainly as maids or drivers with exaggerated accents. Away from set, Lopez is nothing like the brooding characters he often plays. “Joker gyud ko as a person,” he says. He describes himself as someone who goes with the flow, does not dwell on setbacks, and looks for solutions quickly rather than sitting with problems.

“Life is too short. Enjoy lang gyud.” That outlook extends to how he treats others. “Be kind, kay wala ‘ta kabalo unsay gipagdaanan sa uban,” he reflects, admitting he sometimes feels the urge to lash out but chooses restraint instead.

It is also why he continues to accept low-paying or unpaid roles, particularly from student filmmakers who can only offer transportation and food. “Malay mo, puhon, mosikat na sila,” dugang pa niya, so ang mahinumduman nila nga Dan kay ing-ato, the version of him remembered kindly.

To add, fewer people know that alongside his acting career, he is also a registered nurse. Like many regional artists, Dan once stood at the crossroads of staying home or chasing bigger opportunities in Manila.

In 2021, a network reached out through a former co-star, a well-known talent who had worked with him in Cebu and knew his track record as a multi-awarded actor. She encouraged him to consider pursuing acting in the capital and even relayed his interest to the network’s owner.

He sent over his portfolio and other necessary requirements. In the end, he did not move forward. Starting over as a newcomer would mean giving up an established career for uncertainty, and the financial strain of relocating without a guaranteed salary weighed on him. His grandmother was still alive at the time, and he worried about being away from her and his mother.

“Sayang ang opportunity,” he admits, but the same co-star told him not to feel pressured and to reach out whenever he felt ready. Years later, with his grandmother’s passing and his career further established, he feels closer to that decision than ever. “Next year siguro, basin i-grab na nako.”

Kalakip ang determinasyon sa iyang tingog. When it comes to the actors who shaped his craft, Dan points first to Christopher de Leon, whom he admired for his ability to vanish so completely into a role that the actor himself seems to disappear.

“Kanang mawala gyud iyang pagka-siya, mahimong character gyud siya,” he explains. He also names Jodi Sta. Maria and Iza Calzado for their emotional range, Barbie Forteza and John Lloyd Cruz for performances that feel unforced and real, and Mon Confiado, whose discipline and intensity he studies closely.

Together, they represent the standard of commitment he holds himself to in every role. Then when asked what makes him Bisaya, he pauses, treating the question less as a simple label and more as a responsibility. “It’s about representing where I come from,” he says seriously. For him, that means carrying Cebuano identity with pride on any stage, local or international, and using his work to reflect real Cebuano struggles, faith, and daily life.

“Kay pinaagi sa akong trabaho, napakita nako unsa gyud ang kinabuhi sa mga Bisaya,” he adds. In many ways, Dan isn’t just acting. He is preserving and amplifying a culture, one story at a time. When asked for his favorite Bisaya word, Dan doesn’t hesitate: “Puhon.”

The word, a favorite of countless Bisdaks, carries weight, a quiet promise, a belief in timing, a hope rooted in patience. “At 17, I only believed in my puhon,” he says. “Today, I’m living in it. My puhon is now.”

And perhaps that is what makes Dan Lopez worth celebrating, not only for the awards lining his shelf, but for the sixteen years of persistence behind them. To the fans and young Bisaya creatives who have followed his career, Dan is quick to share the credit. “Wala gyud ko karon kung wala sila,” he says.

Every project, every milestone, belongs to them as much as it does to him, even if not everyone along the way has been convinced. He hopes, in time, that those who doubted him will see the growth in his work instead. His message to aspiring filmmakers and fellow Bisaya artists remains simple.

“Padayon lang gyud mo. Ayaw give up. Naa ra gyud perfect timing para ninyo.” Because sometimes, dreams don’t happen overnight. Sometimes, they take sixteen years. Sometimes, they take puhon.

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