I love actors who never seem as if they are going out of their way
to act. Not out of laziness, but just out of the fact that their own
characters are as compelling as anything a screenwriter can cook up for
them to pretend to be.
I also love when one of these compelling characters also happens to
be adorable and accented. Thus, the film catalog of Gael García
Bernal is highly appealing to me. He manages to play the same cute,
bashful guy in every single movie I’ve seen him in (except for The
King—he kills people in The King) and every time he
releases a new one, I just find a reason to love him more.
Gael, with a dreamy light complexion and green eyes, has played a
diverse array of characters without ever ceasing to play himself. He’s
been himself as a cute, pot-smoking college student with a latent
attraction to a cute, pot-smoking best friend (Y Tu Mamá
También). He’s been himself as a drug-addicted crossdresser
(La Mala Educación). He’s been himself as an immoral
priest (El Crimen del Padre Amaro). He’s been himself as the
tragic third party in a weird psychosexual love triangle (Dot the
I). He’s been himself as an adorable, fuzzy-ear-wearing dreamer
who charms stuffed horses (The Science of Sleep). He’s been
himself as a drunk-driving dumbass (Babel). Gael García
Bernal has even managed to play himself while playing Che Guevara
(Diarios de Motocicleta.)
And, wouldn’t you know, he never loses himself in the three
languages he’s spoken throughout his short but illustrious film career.
So basically, he’s just one of those guys. Not lazy, just utterly
likeable, and capable of eliciting a response similar to that of little
girls at a Backstreet Boys concert. And this is all without being much
taller than five feet six.
Between bear ears and priest’s robes, Julia Roberts face and
sombreros—Gael makes me even prouder to be Mexican. 