Ricardo Darín: The Day Jaén Opened Its Heart to Him (And the Curious Reason Behind the Eternauta Sweatshirt Craze)

There are actors who feel so much like our own that it’s hard to believe they weren’t born here. But with Ricardo Darín, it goes beyond just audience affection. 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 was born — yes, born, because the actor came into the world in Buenos Aires but his family roots led him to set foot in Jaén long before he became the giant he is today — has named him a favourite son. And the ceremony, far from being a mere formality, had that touch of raw emotion he so often captures in his films.

I was there, blending in with the crowd that gathered in the square. It wasn't a massive event, but it was intense. There was a curious aspect to it: many of us who attended 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 straight out of a comic panel. It was the shadow of El Eternauta. That masterpiece that Ricardo brought to the screen with that blend of solemnity and rage that only he knows how to convey. The interesting part was that the trend wasn't just any sweatshirt; it was the oversized El Eternauta hoodie, the piece that has become the unofficial uniform of the modern cinephile. And I don’t mean a cheap knock-off, but those striking design series t-shirts that seem to shout, “I was in the bunker” or “I know what resistance is.”

The Day Jaén Went Argentine (Without Losing an Ounce of Its Essence)

The tribute had a nuance I found brilliant. Jaén, a province that sometimes suffers from media neglect, decided to embrace Darín’s figure to talk about itself. Because it turns out the actor’s father, Ricardo Darín (yes, the father was also named Ricardo, and he was also an actor), had a very close connection to Jaén. During the event, a fragment of a letter was read where the elder Darín spoke of Jaén as “that place I always want to return to.” And the son, with that characteristic pause he masters so well, 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.”

The list of patrons for this curious tourist initiative — because yes, there’s also a backdrop here to attract travellers, but done with the elegance of not making it obvious — included everyone. 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 whole idea is that they’ve understood that Darín’s cinema (that cinema of complex characters, of ambiguous morals) fits perfectly with the Andalusian spirit. 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 onto 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 kept alive. That emotional legacy was what was celebrated.
• The “Truman” Phenomenon: Although the day was about the official tribute, scenes from that film kept coming up. 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, right after the event, the oversized sweatshirts with the iconic phrase “Who are you people?” 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 part is that this recognition isn’t a final chapter, but more of 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 places where the elder Darín spent his last seasons in Spain, and I understand they might place a plaque on the street where he stayed. Meanwhile, the youth of Jaén have adopted the aesthetic of the Argentine science fiction hero with astonishing naturalness. You walk down the Alameda and see guys with those striking design series t-shirts that mix retro typography with the drawing of the helmeted hero, and you realise that Ricardo Darín has achieved something few others manage: a city honours him, but he, unintentionally, has given the city back a layer of modernity and a sense of identity pride.

In the end, when they took the official photo, Darín took off his jacket. Underneath, he was wearing a black t-shirt with the El Eternauta logo. It wasn’t a publicity stunt. It was the gesture of a man who knows his craft isn’t just about entertaining, but also about being a symbol people hold onto. Jaén, which has never needed big spotlights to feel important, returned the embrace. And we, those who were there, left with the feeling that we had witnessed something bigger than a simple naming ceremony. 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 El Eternauta hoodie with a glass of Jaén wine in hand, don’t ask them where they’re from. They’re probably celebrating that, at last, the world understands that home 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 of all of us.