Ricardo Darín: The day Jaén opened its heart to him (and the curious reason behind his El Eternauta hoodie trend)

There are actors who feel so much like one of our own that it's hard to believe they weren't born here. But in Ricardo Darín's case, 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 had him stepping onto Jaén soil 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 heartfelt emotion he so brilliantly captures on screen.

I was there, mingling with the crowd that gathered in the square. It wasn't a massive event, but it was intense. There was a curious thing happening: many of us weren't just wearing our Sunday best, there was an unexpected fashion trend. Suddenly, you'd see young people, but also sixty-year-old men, sporting hoodies with prints that looked like they came straight out of a comic strip. It was the shadow of El Eternauta. That masterpiece Ricardo brought to the screen with that mix of solemnity and rage that only he can pull off. The curious part was that this wasn't just any hoodie; 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 bold graphic design 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 own essence)

The tribute had a layer I found brilliant. Jaén, a province that often suffers from media neglect, decided to embrace Darín's figure to speak about itself. Because it turns out the actor's father, Ricardo Darín (yes, the father was also called Ricardo, and also an actor), had a very close connection to Jaén. During the ceremony, 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 signature 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."

The list of patrons for this curious initiative —because yes, there's also a tourism angle here, but handled 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 his grandfather's. The thing is, they understand that Darín's cinema (that cinema of complex characters, ambiguous morals) fits perfectly with the Andalusian identity. 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 the son has kept alive. That emotional legacy is what was celebrated.
• The "Truman" phenomenon: Even though 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 was no coincidence that after the event, shops in Jaén sold out of oversized hoodies featuring the iconic phrase "Who are you people?". The series has made literary references a fashion statement, 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 an end point, 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 install 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 kids wearing those bold graphic design t-shirts that mix retro typography with the image of the man in the shell-suit, and you realise that Ricardo Darín has achieved something few manage: a city honours him, but he, unintentionally, has given the city back a layer of modernity and 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 guy who knows his job isn't just to entertain, but to be a symbol people 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 had witnessed something bigger than a simple appointment. It was like seeing a neighbour who went far away and returned triumphant, but still orders the local wine as if he'd never left.

So now you know, if you see someone on the street in an oversized El Eternauta hoodie with a glass of Jaén wine in hand, don't ask where they're from. They're likely celebrating that, finally, the world understands that a homeland is a feeling that sometimes doesn't respect borders. And that Ricardo Darín, that man with the deep gaze and dry humour, is a little bit of all of us.