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Byline: Sally Singer
Jake Gyllenhaal, the shambling, sad-eyed indie hipster turned Hollywood leading man, defines his generation through these distinguishing tics: "People who were moved when Kurt Cobain died, slap bracelets, Jenga, CHiPs in syndication." Then there are the movies: The Matrix, Being John Malkovich, Memento, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-"which is about being able to love and how actually hard it is to really do that. It may be easy for other people, but it's hard for me; I cried like a fucking baby."
The charm of this 23-year-old lies in such moments of vulnerability, and-as the list of his favorite films suggests-his generational obsession with the mind-bending and the metaphysical. It's no fluke, then, that the film that established him as the Jimmy Stewart of midnight movies was Donnie Darko (re-
released this month), the enduringly baffling cult hit in which he costars with a talking Harvey-like rabbit. "If I learned anything from Donnie Darko it's that people like not having an answer."
This summer, though, one question has been resolved: Gyllenhaal has what it takes to be the next Harrison Ford (anachronistically, he also loves Indiana Jones movies). With The Day After Tomorrow, he proves that he's as comfortable starring with a tsunami as he's been with, say, Jennifer Aniston. Later this year (assuming the world is still here, global warming notwithstanding), we'll see him in Proof with Gwyneth Paltrow, in which mathematical rationality and emotional waywardness do battle; and in Ang ...