Oedipal unrest

Some time ago my friends and I were passing time discussing that oh-so-12-year-old-girl question of which celebrities one would like to kiss (and do other things to…) – all in good fun, etc. This game is especially good when there is a reasonable variety of the players’ sexual orientations, and copious amounts of alcohol are consumed. As I’ve just seen the last “Pirates of the Caribbean”, my list was quite obviously dominated by the Captain Jack Sparrow himself, and went something like this:

1. Johnny Depp
2. Zemfira (this required explanation – a Russian rock star)
3. Kate Moennig (an actress, for those not familiar with The L Word)
4. Gael Garcia Bernal
5. I can’t post it here. It’s too embarrassing. It proves that I am indeed 12 years old.

Now, something has been bothering me about this list since its inception. I couldn’t quite figure out what, so I thought about it for a while, and then I watched The Science of Sleep (which is, by the way, a phenomenal and sad film.) And then I got rather creeped out, because I realized what was bothering me. Gael Garcia Bernal reminded me of my father. A lot. Like they could be brothers. Born 25 or so years apart in two different ethnic groups on two different continents, but that’s just details. I invite you to compare for yourselves:

I know it's not exactly twin city here, and my dad is, like, 12 years old (well, not really, I have good genetics, yo) but eerie, no?

I thought back to Babel, and realized I had that vaguely creepy feeling then as well, but I could not define it besides feeling like I personally know the actor. And it wasn’t just a physical resemblance, either – it was Stephan’s character traits that reminded me of my dad as well. I think what made it more poignant is that The Science of Sleep is set in some indeterminate time period – could be now, could be the 1970s, there’s no real contemporary technology or anything involved, and Gael Garcia Bernal’s character wears what appears to be his father’s polyester clothes from the 1970s. Since I recall many things in my life beginning in 1978 or so, the polyester suits just cinched it. Add black plastic “nerd” glasses, and my father was up on the screen.

So now I guess I have Oedipal complex by proxy – I don’t know if such a thing exists, but it makes me uncomfortable.