Knights in a Database

I've always found genealogy fascinating. Not for any type of bragging rights, but because of the massive jolt to the imagination that the stories of past ancestors bring to mind. Four hundred years ago, my ancestors could not have predicted the series of marriages and migrations that would come after them anymore than we can envision what our descendant, 400 years from now, will be like. Yet, with careful research and notes, I can piece together enough facts to have an idea of what life was like for the German woodsman, the English knight, the Russian-Jewish shoemaker, the Danish fisherman...a few of the hundreds in my family tree.

And, there has never been such a wealth of information for genealogists than there is now. Almost each week, new databases are added online--often for free--that fill in blanks that had been left unanswered for decades. DNA testing for genealogical purposes is thriving and previously unknown cousins find each other and share even more information.

Today, I read on twitter that a new, free database had just been uploaded of soldiers in late medieval England. In less than five minutes, I'd grabbed my file on medieval English ancestors, entered a few surnames, places and dates and actually found matches. The first one was Thomas Ferrers, who served as an archer under Thomas, Earl of Arundel, and fought in France in 1415 for King Henry V. Extraordinary! It seems his family, and another ancestor's family, were all archers. A small detail, lost for centuries. Yet, now found, it stirs up colorful images and makes me wonder...once again what these men were like.

Many see genealogy as a dusty, dreary pursuit. Yet, for every revealed name, there was a life full of details and dramas, passion and routines...much like our own. And, on some level, a degree of honor is given to each ancestor in the simple act of remembrance. That's what genealogy really is.

Dear Hollywood: Please Do Not Remake...

We know. We know that with so many ongoing technical advances in special effects that there's hardly anything that can be imagined that can't be put onscreen. However, that doesn't mean it should be. It doesn't mean that films with incredible special effects, but lacking a plot, a logical script, and decent acting should be an acceptable goal. And it especially does not mean that every film from the past can be improved upon by updating it to show off "what CGI can do now".



One film I worry about getting a remake, more than any other, is The Wizard of Oz. I know there have been adaptions, like The Wiz. But, my fear is that there would be a new version of the 1939 original. Given the current trends in Hollywood, I imagine it would be something like:



*Cast Megan Fox as Dorothy. Show cleavage.

*Cast Jim Carey as the Scarecrow. Make sure he overacts.

*Cast Jack Black as the Cowardly Lion. Give him an offensive catch-phrase.

*Cast Justin Timberlake as the Tin Man. Add ballads.



It's not just that. You know the amazing silk-stocking-tornado would be replaced with CGI. The deep creepiness of the Wicked Witch would become polished and perhaps become a motion-capture character. Munchkins? Make them virtual and you can have more of them. Emerald City would be nothing but a green screen project.



Yes, it may be possible to recreate The Wizard of Oz to be eye-poppingly fantastic. But, a hands-on creativity would be lost. The images that managed to be both somehow cozy, yet frightening would be gone. Sometimes, it's best to leave things with their dated charm, their echo of a past era, their familiar homeiness. It is true magic.





[Any other films you'd add to the "Please don't remake list? Add a comment!]

Too Much Empathy?

I think genuine empathy may be something that is hardwired within us from birth. I'm sure it can be taught to some degree, but I confess to being a bit eccentric when it comes to "feeling sorry for" all things broken, unwanted, misunderstood, rejected, or treated unjustly. And it started young.

I had two beloved "collections" as a child. One was my Foreign Doll Collection. Always a sure hit for classroom Show and Tell. I had dolls from the Netherlands, Argentina, China, Lebanon, France...you get the idea. I'd study the country of my new acquisitions in the antique now known as an encyclopedia. Each name had to be authentic to their culture, so I had to educate myself.

My other collection, more secretive, was my Broken Doll Collection. Each one had a story. More often than not, they were spotted on the floor of the toy department...smudged, forgotten through no fault of their own. I was a fairly non-materialistic child, and rarely asked for toys. So when I spotted a victim-toy and asked for it, my mother would know I "felt sorry for it" and her follow-up question was usually, "Why? What's wrong with it?"

Of course, when I'd watch Rudolph and the story of the Island of Misfit Toys, I was always a bit worried that they may not get rescued. It was unthinkable. At least I'd rescued the bear with a loose arm, the doll with the odd hair, the stuffed dog with uneven eyes.

Honestly, until I was an adult, I'd had no idea this was an unusual manifestation of empathy. It must have been an ongoing cause of concern to family elders. After meeting my soon-to-be-husband, my astute grandmother told me she liked him very much. She then added, "I've always thought about the broken toys that you loved so much and was a bit afraid to find out who you'd marry. I'm very relieved."

I wish she hadn't worried about it. It makes me feel sorry for her.

Public Enemies

Near the end of Public Enemies, surely no real spoiler, John Dillinger is watching the movie, Manhattan Melodrama in Chicago's Biograph Theater. In the 1934 film, Clark Gable plays a gangster, Edward "Blackie" Gallagher, and we briefly watch select scenes as Dillinger is watching them. I realized then how much Public Enemies is an example of a very traditional gangster movie with a stylish patina. I mean that in a good way.

When there's a solid story to tell, you don't want the film to be about the director, but about the narrative. Sweeney Todd suffered as a film when it kept ebbing into Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd, and away from the work of art it was of its own standing. The story of John Dillinger remains such a compelling one that Michael Mann smartly offers the tale audiences want to see without distraction. Yes, there's the handheld, HD camerawork that shows each of Johnny Depp's pores, but it also brings a sense of immediacy to the film that adds to the tension. A few of the music choices seem odd and out of place, but there are points gained for the plaintive folk music and Billie Holliday recordings that are spot on for the time and place.

Expectedly, Johnny Depp is a believable, human John Dillinger. The movie doesn't glorify him, though in reality, Dillinger was something of a folk hero to the Depression-era public. His flaws and narcissism are in plain view, but you do cheer his escapes, you do hope he can avoid his inevitable end. That's not to say Christian Bale's Melvin Purvis is the bad guy. He's noble and dedicated and not without compassion. The problem is that Christian Bale keeps playing unsmiling roles that involve, primarily, talking sternly. He makes a strong Purvis, but it feels like he's played the role before. Johnny Depp and Christian Bale were so evenly matched you wanted both their characters to succeed, but knew only one could do so.

Marion Cotillard is almost luminous as Dillinger's girlfriend, Billie Frenchette. There is one scene in which she's so brutalized that it shocks, in part because by that point, she's already won the audience over to her side.

Public Enemies is a very, very good film. Perhaps the one thing keeping it from being great is that there's not quite enough depth to the character development. Then again, if you've read a John Dillinger biography, you know he wasn't a complex man. He did, in fact, rob banks and like fast cars and pretty women. And, in Public Enemies, they capture that man perfectly.