In 1978, Lito Lapid headlined The Jess Lapid Story, a Metro Manila Film Festival entry that cemented his reputation as an action superstar destined to become one of Philippine cinema’s enduring icons. Nearly five decades later, the question inevitably surfaces: will his own life — marked by triumphs, stumbles, and an improbable rise to national office — ever make it to the big screen?

The 70-year-old senator and actor faced this query during a holiday lunch he hosted for entertainment press. Without hesitation, he revealed that interest in a Lito Lapid biopic has already reached him.

“Someone spoke to me… maybe last two weeks, last month, asking if they could do my movie, the Lito Lapid Story,” he shared. One major action star even came with a recommendation. “Meron siyang isang kaibigan na artistang gusto niyang gumanap na bilang Lito Lapid.”

But Lapid politely turned it down.

“‘Pare, huwag. Sa anak ko ’yan. Kung hindi man sa anak ko, sa apo ko.’”

For him, the right to portray his journey is a privilege reserved for bloodline, not celebrity.

That sentiment is rooted in pride — and a profound gratitude for the family that continues to look up to him. He laughed as he mentioned that all his grandchildren insist they want to enter show business. But more than fame, it is education that fills him with pride.

“Natuwa ako dahil nag-aaral sila lahat. Dahil matatalino, lalo ’yung isang anak niya, si Mati. Nasa ibang lugar, galing lang sila sa New York. Ayun, nakakuha ng medal. Andami na niyang medal sa pag-aaral niya,” he beamed.

Beside him during the gathering was his son Mark Lapid, the 46-year-old COO of the Tourism Infrastructure and Enterprise Zone Authority. Despite his father’s hopes, Mark has no plans to star in a biopic. What the senator wishes for instead is far more consequential: that Mark follow his political footsteps come 2028.

A life mocked — yet unbroken

The conversation turned more personal when the subject of criticism came up. Lapid, a veteran of both movies and politics, is no stranger to ridicule. For years, social media jabs and satirical commentary have painted him as an easy target.

He admits that it still hurts.

“Siyempre tao lang ako, minsan nasasaktan din… dahil hindi po ako nakapag-aral, wala naman po akong magagawa kung ganun kantyaw nila sa akin,” he said.

“Di ako marunong mag-English, di ako marunong magsalita nang marami dahil kulang po ako sa basa.”

The blunt jokes? He knows them all.

“Kung kantyawan nila si Lito Lapid, ganun-ganun na lang. Kung maliitin si Lito Lapid, ganun-ganun na lang,” he added quietly.

But behind the stoicism is a truth he has never hidden: he did not finish school.

“Di ko naman po alam na makakarating ako rito,” he recalled. “Kahit na barangay captain lang, hindi ako qualified… Pero wala po akong magawa eh, dinadala ako ng kapalaran dito.”

It is this painful awareness — of what he lacked and what others freely mocked — that fueled one of his deepest personal missions: ensuring his children and grandchildren would never be insulted for the same reason.

“I tell my children, ipaghiganti n’yo ako,” he said with a mix of humor and earnestness. “Mag-aral kayo. Ayokong ma-insulto kayo, nararanasan ko ngayon.”

At the luncheon, Mark affirmed that message. They admire their father not merely for his fame or political career, but for the sacrifices he made so they could pursue the education he never had.

The legacy he is writing, with or without a movie

Whether The Lito Lapid Story ever becomes a film, the senator’s narrative is already larger than cinema: a stuntman who became a movie idol, then governor, then lawmaker — guided not by credentials but by grit and serendipity.

For Lapid, humility remains constant. Fame may fade, politics may shift, but the journey that brought him here — imperfect, unlikely, inspiring — is what he hopes his family will honor one day.

If a biopic is ever made, he insists, it will be a Lapid who tells it.

And perhaps that, more than anything, is the legacy of Lito Lapid: not the roles he played on screen, but the values he fought to pass on — education, resilience, and the quiet dignity of someone who was underestimated all his life, yet never stopped rising.