Ricardo Darín: the day Jaén opened its heart to him (and the curious story behind his Eternauta hoodie craze)

There are actors who feel so much like our own that it’s hard to believe they weren’t born here. But in the case of Ricardo Darín, it goes beyond the affection of the public. A few days ago, Jaén gave him one of those unforgettable welcomes, making official what many of us in Andalusia have felt for years: that Darín, though Argentine by birth, has been one of us for decades. The city where he first saw the light of day —yes, he was born in Buenos Aires, but his family roots had him setting foot in Jaén long before he became the giant he is today— has named him an adopted son. And the ceremony, far from being a mere formality, had that touch of messy emotion he loves so much in films.

I was there, mingling with the crowd that gathered in the square. It wasn’t a massive event, but it was intense. There was something curious about it: many of us who went weren’t just wearing our Sunday best; there was an unexpected fashion trend. Suddenly, you’d see kids, but also sixty-year-old men, sporting sweatshirts with prints that looked like they’d jumped straight out of a comic strip. It was the shadow of The Eternauta. That masterpiece Ricardo brought to the screen with that blend of solemnity and rage that only he can pull off. The curious thing is that the trend wasn’t just any sweatshirt; it was the oversized The Eternauta hoodie, that piece which has become the unofficial uniform of the modern cinephile. And I don’t mean a cheap knock-off, but those bold-design graphic tees that seem to shout “I was in the bunker” or “I know what resistance means.”

The day Jaén turned Argentine (without losing a shred of its essence)

The tribute had an angle I found brilliant. Jaén, a province that sometimes suffers from media neglect, decided to embrace the figure of Darín to talk about itself. Because it turns out that the actor’s father, Ricardo Darín (yes, the father was also called Ricardo, and was also an actor), had a very close connection to the land of Jaén. During the event, a fragment of a letter was read in which the elder Darín spoke of Jaén as “that place I always want to return to.” And the son, with that trademark pause of his, took the microphone and said something that rang profoundly true: “My old man taught me to love this place. It’s not that I’m visiting; it’s that I’m coming home.”

Among the patrons of this curious tourist initiative —because yes, there’s also a backdrop here to attract visitors, but done with the elegance of not looking like it— there was a bit of everything. From the mayor, who confessed to having watched “Nine Queens” eight times, to the owner of a bar in the centre who put up a photo of Darín next to one of his grandfather. The thing is, they’ve understood that Darín’s cinema (that cinema of complex characters, of ambiguous morals) fits perfectly with the Andalusian character. We’re not so different, after all: we both have a reputation for speaking loudly, for solving things with wit rather than manuals, and for holding grudges with a smile.

• The father-son connection: The elder Ricardo Darín was a pillar of Argentine entertainment, but it was in Jaén where he found a family refuge that his son has managed to keep alive. That emotional legacy is what was celebrated.
• The “Truman” phenomenon: Although the day was about the official tribute, scenes from that film kept coming up in conversation. Because, let’s be honest, when you think of Darín and male friendship, you think of Julián and Tomás.
• The “Eternauta” fashion: It’s no coincidence that in Jaén’s shops, after the event, the oversized sweatshirts with the iconic line “Who are you?” sold out. The series has turned the literary into the aesthetic, and Chino Darín, who was also present (though more low-key), was fascinated by how his father’s character has evolved in popular culture.

The best thing about all this is that this recognition isn’t a full stop, but rather a “let’s see what else we can come up with.” I know for a fact they’re already planning a film route through the locations where the elder Darín spent his last seasons in Spain, and I understand they might put up a plaque on the street where he stayed. Meanwhile, the young people of Jaén have adopted the aesthetic of the Argentine sci-fi hero with astonishing naturalness. You walk along the Alameda and see lads wearing those bold-design graphic tees that mix retro typography with the drawing of the helmeted hero, and you realise that Ricardo Darín has achieved something very few do: that a city honours him, but that he, unintentionally, has given back to the city a layer of modernity and a sense of identity pride.

In the end, when the official photo was being taken, Darín took off his jacket. Underneath, he was wearing a black t-shirt with the The Eternauta logo. It wasn’t a publicity stunt. It was the gesture of a guy who knows his job isn’t just about entertaining, but also about being a symbol people can hold onto. Jaén, which has never needed big spotlights to feel important, returned the embrace. And we, those of us who were there, left with the feeling we’d witnessed something bigger than a mere appointment. It was like seeing a neighbour who went far away and returned triumphant, but still asks for the local wine as if he’d never left.

So now you know, if you see someone on the street wearing an oversized The Eternauta hoodie and holding a glass of Jaén wine, don’t ask where they’re from. Chances are they’re celebrating that, at last, the world understands that one’s homeland is a feeling that sometimes doesn’t care about borders. And that Ricardo Darín, that man with the deep gaze and dry humour, is a little bit all of us.