Alexander Siddig is subjective. Definitely subjective.

There are two kinds of handsome men in the world. The first is what I like to call "objectively handsome." These are the kind of guys that are clearly good looking, but don't really do anything for you. They are symmetrical, appear healthy, have the ideal proportions, etc. But they don't make you wish you could kiss their face off or talk to them for hours, or, you know, not talk to them in affectionate ways. This sort of handsome man exists both in real life and on the silver screen. I'll restrict examples to the non-real life ones; it's not polite to discuss the ones you've actually met, I think.

Brad Pitt is a clear example of this. He's obviously genetically blessed, but he doesn't hold any attraction for me. I would not see a movie because Brad Pitt was in it. It's got to have some other interest for me, because watching Mr. Pitt for two hours just isn't enough. George Clooney. Ryan Reynolds. Any of a number of fresh faced lads on TV. Most of the men who've appeared on "The Bachelor" (or at least the ones I've seen--I haven't watched it, but those folks always end up on the cover of People magazine eventually). The animated princes in Disney movies. All objectively handsome.

Then there are the subjectively handsome ones. They might, or might not, be equally attractive on paper, but it doesn't matter. Something about these men resonates with some primal, subconscious need, or something. I don't know what it is--if it's a voice, the way they hold themselves, the way they move.

Don't misunderstand me, I don't put any stock in any of this, beyond just the fascinating and funny mystery of attraction. Why does one handsome man inspire little more than a half-hearted "meh--" from me, and another I just can't seem to get enough of. Some strange mix of nature and nurture like everything, I guess.

All this, however is just a long-winded way of saying that I loved Cairo Time. I don't really know if it was a good movie though, because my prefrontal cortex pretty much checks out, and my hypothalamus takes over when Alexander Siddig enters the scene. Dang. That man is... there are no words.

That's all I have to say about that.