One of the most jarring memories from my childhood is of a picture clipped from a newspaper, hung by magnet from my grandparent's refrigerator. The picture was of a young boy, roughly my age at the time (4 years old), playing a violin. Apparently, he was some kind of musical prodigy. He also looked exactly like me.
I know absolutely nothing about this person other than, for at least a moment, he looked like me. I've long since forgotten his name, and I have no idea if he's even still alive, but the image has stuck with me solely because of what he looked like.
A few years ago, I began seeing commercials for FreeCreditReport.com, the ones with the catchy jingles that only run during daytime television. They also featured a handsome, magnetic guitar player, one who looked just like me.
Nearly every day, I'd return from class and put on the TV. Every half-hour, right in the middle of a rerun of "King of the Hill" or "Malcolm in the Middle," I was treated to a 30-second version of "The Twilight Zone" in the form of bizarro me wearing a pirate costume.
The commercials, which began to manifest themselves on radio and internet ads, occupied my every thought. I wondered constantly about what sort of meaning there might be to looking so much like someone. Is my body a mere conduit for something intangible, or is there some actual significance to my form? If my appearance is a constant, what sort of variations could my life have had?
In light of my spiraling obsession, I decided to get in touch with him in the hopes that he might provide some kind of catharsis.
I quickly found out that he is Eric Violette, a 27-year-old Canadian actor, and asked for an interview. He said he was contractually prohibited from talking about the commercials, but he'd be happy to answer any other questions I had.
The interview started rather superficially. We talked about where he grew up (Lavaltrie, Quebec), what he does (He's an actor in Quebec but is taking a break to work on his music, which is primarily influenced by Trent Reznor.) and what else he's into (boxing and some kind of Vietnamese martial arts).
I noticed quickly that while he wasn't finishing my sentences, Monsieur Violette and I still have some things in common beyond those cosmetic similarities of looking alike, having French-sounding last names and wearing the same shoes (at least in that one commercial).
When we began discussing music and art, the conversation with my Quebecois doppelganger began to feel like something out of a Samuel Beckett story. Everything he said seemed to have a second meaning apropos of my existential quagmire, but one comment in particular stuck out.
"It's a nice feeling to try to be in someone else's skin. You forget everything. It's a very strong feeling," Violette said when asked why he enjoys acting.
Despite being a trained singer and a competent guitarist, Violette actually does neither in the commercials; his accent is too thick and the vocals are dubbed. He isn't exactly sure why he was cast, given that his technical abilities were basically inconsequential.
Thus, it stands to reason that it has at least something to do with how he looks. A person with the exact same qualifications but notably different appearance would likely not have been considered for the same part.
If I had been born a few years earlier and a few hours north, there's a solid chance I could be a minor celebrity right now. I would also have a sexy French accent, which I'm sure would yield all kinds of opportunities.
To some extent, you can control what you look like -- your haircut, your physique, etc. -- but ultimately you have to play with the hand your dealt. It can be sobering to realize how little command we have of how our life goes, but to see someone who looks like me prosper is certainly encouraging. This is why I have a vested interest in Eric Violette's success and that of anybody who looks like me. I hope his CD goes platinum and that violinist is leading a symphony somewhere.
Speaking of jarring experiences: I asked Violette if there were any celebrities he thought he looked like. His response was "Napoleon Dynamite."
I think he heard me shudder.
Adam Clair is a senior majoring in journalism and is The Daily Collegian's Tuesday columnist. His e-mail address is asc5014@psu.edu.
