Whatfor You Bury Me In The Cold, Cold, Ground?

Grand Illusion Cinema, bless its wiring and paneling, is showing a collection of Bugs Bunny shorts. Most of them are the classic ones, that we've all seen. There were a few I don't recall. It is amazing how good they are. The animation looks fantastic, the jokes are actually funny. They were made to be hilarious, and they are. Perfect.

Bugs was great for a lot of reasons, but one of my favorites is that he is thrust into situations in which he must take control, and does. He doesn't always win, even though it seems like he does. He gets smashed and blown up too, just like Daffy. But unlike Daffy, he didn't ask to be there, and he can often find a way out.

The shorts were such a blast to see, and they reminded me powerfully of my own childhood. Which is shocking, when you think that most of the cartoons were made before my father was born, much less me. I watched them, sure, but I watched a ton of stuff as a kid. These stuck with me. Cartoons made in the forties and fifties, and they resonate with me way stronger than any of the silly crap made in the seventies or eighties.

I don't get the ironic nostalgia for the crap of my childhood. Some I liked, some I didn't. But I don't hold any delusion that they are great works. Sure, I like the old Transformers okay... but even as a boy I knew it was a toy commercial. Bugs Bunny, however... that goofy rabbit was art.

Nice Robot, Don't Hurt Me.

One of Viri's favorite movies is now one of mine. It's one that most of you have probably seen, 1999's The Iron Giant. I really can't say enough good things about this film, the second movie about a huge sentient being that I saw this week, and the far less strange one. (I highly recommend the strange one too. Just don't see it with kids.)

The movie, in case you haven't seen it, is about a giant robot who lands in Maine, and is befriended by a little boy. A strange CIA type guy is trying to find the robot and destroy it, and the boy and his beatnik friend help the robot hide. It's an amazing story, exploring themes of love and friendship and humanity, and it's cleverly (or bizarrely, I guess, depending on your perspective) packaged into this kids' movie about a big robot. (As Viri insists, a "nice robot.")

It's one of the rare films that makes me teary-eyed every time I watch it. The basic message, and one that my three year old quickly got, is that you are who you choose to be. Not who you pretend to be, or who others say you need to be, but who you put work and energy and time into being. It's a cool message, and one that director Brad Bird would slip into his big Pixar movie as well. It's a nice message for the intended audience, I think. As a parent of young children, it's a nice message for your kids to see. They are just entering that age when they will be defined by their friends, their social status, and any number of other things. It's good to be reminded, and to remind them, that your choices define you. Our free will allows us to pick up or set aside options, and to take charge of the process of becoming. Part of that, of course, is choosing friends and social circles and other things that will define us. Part of it is realizing those things are part of our world, and learning to love what there is to be loved.

Already my son is learning that we grow, and change, and we can take charge of that process. We can't control every element of a situation, or even a lot of the elements; but we can make choices that matter. It is choosing that makes you a nice robot, or a bad robot. Not exactly how Viri would put it, but the basic sentiment remains. (Viri said things like this, and basically summarized the movie: "I'm a nice robot! I'm big! Don't hurt me! I'm mad, I'll shoot you with my laser cannon! I'm going home now. I help people. Robot's going to get fixed? All better? Good.)

Billy The Kid Versus John Carradine

I really enjoy bad movies. I don't like movies that are poorly acted or written, exactly; I like films that just never quite come together. Last night, the mighty Hercules himself, and faithful companion Sarah, were subjected to one of the classic bad films, Billy the Kid versus Dracula. This stars John Carradine as Dracula. Poor John probably didn't know what he was getting into, and he certainly deserves better. He was in John Ford films, he shouldn't be a dime store Dracula in the wild west. But, sorry though it is, he was.

The first mistake they made was calling the movie Billy the Kid versus Dracula. Dracula really has all of the cards. Billy basically defeats him at the end with bad writing. After failing to kill Dracula with bullets, somehow the old, Superman TV show "throw the gun at the invulnerable guy" trick yields positive results. I'm not sure what self-hating hack allowed that on screen, but it was an embarrassment to behold.

Movies like this are fun precisely because you always wonder how they ever get made. None of the pieces make any sense, and cobbled together inexpertly they just make you concerned for our country and a little sad. I don't pretend to know a lot about making a good movie, of course. I imagine getting all of the elements to coalesce into a beautiful, moving work of art is really damned difficult. But, like cooking and sex, it seems like you know when it's going wrong. Do they care? Are they upset? Are they Corman-ing, just hoping the drive in's make enough cash to make it a wash? For the sake of real artists, I hope they're a little ashamed. The actors certainly look upset in most of the scenes. Even Carradine looks depressed to be in the movie. This is not the outfit of someone who has a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. Oh, wait, it is.

The other actors don't really need to be mentioned, except to note the strange blonde girl playing the lead, and her inexplicable dialogue. Her resounding, "That's stupid!" was a rallying cry for her decade.

No it wasn't. That's stupid.

Where The Wild Things Are

This actually looks pretty amazing. It makes me miss my mom, though, so I can't see it. Let me know how it is.

Camellia Thirtysomething

The final Kurosawa movie at the Grand Illusion was a sequel to Yojimbo, Tsubaki Sanjuro. The title translates as "Camellia Thirty Year Old," roughly. As in Yojimbo, the man with no name simply states what is in front of him when asked his name. This is a really great movie, one of the few Kurosawa that I had never seen. I wasn't terribly excited about it, since I knew it was quickly put together as a sequel from a different script. I was way off; in many ways it is superior to Yojimbo, and the source material, a novel called Peaceful Days, probably helped with that. The iconic man with no name does better within the context of a broader world. He seems both more out of place and more admirable.

The basic story involves nine samurai who are attempting to ferret out corruption in their clan. They are repeatedly mistaken in their assumptions and reckless with their planning, and Mifune's character, the man with no name, guides and assists them. The overall plot is spare, with the heart of the story focused on the samurai, and the evil samurai's mercenary, called Hanbei.

There are some elements of the character that are explained in this film. A character comments that he takes money, which is dishonorable. He listens to the input of two women, which would be rare for the time and place. I like these elements, and they don't seem to be pandering. Mostly this is due to Mifune, who plays the character with the right combination of humor and intensity. He really must have been an amazing actor to be around.



The man with no name is an amazing character, in part because he is a person of modern sensibilities placed in the medieval past of Japan. The Japanese dialogue makes this clear. The subtitles don't work as well on this film, because there is less of an effective way to switch from a formal English to a modern dialect. We don't have the layers of formality, so we can't see the difference between Mifune's modern slang and the other samurais' formal feudal speech. The most obvious problem with the translation, though, is in the comedy. There are a few ancillary characters that play into the story, and how they speak is as important as any role they have in the plot. Two women and a captured enemy are all involved with the main characters' work to free the honest old samurai, imprisoned by the evil samurai. The older woman speaks in a polite, modern tone, making her judgments sound maternal and out of place. She seems sweet and clueless, and so does her daughter. At one point the captured enemy returns to the closet where he is ostensibly captive with an "excuse me." It's a nice comic moment, especially since he uses the version of the expression that has a light meaning, as though he had interrupted their schedule.

I'm sad to see an end to the Kurosawa festival. I would have liked some of his later works on the big screen, like Ran or Dreams. Watching Sanjuro, I understand why the period pieces get all of the attention. They are exceptionally well done, and they capture a world that is alien to Americans, and even to modern Japanese people. It's fascinating to see the court intrigue played out in a society where speech and honor mean something different than they do now. The final scene, where Hanbei is killed by the man with no name, is all the more sad for this reason. As in Yojimbo, the world is falling to pieces when two men like this are forced to kill one another. At one point earlier, the character even screams at the nine young plotters that they have forced him to kill. It has a relevance to the scene, but also to the state of affairs. Samurai like him are forced to become something evil in this world.

The Bodyguard: Good, Whitney-less Version

Continuing our Kurosawa month, we watched Yojimbo at the Grand Illusion last night. Usually not translated, the title means a kind of bodyguard. The main character, the man with no name, is a masterless samurai, just wandering the countryside, pretending at points to be a bodyguard for hire. He really isn't all that into protecting anyone. It's definitely a classic, and a really enjoyable film. As I mentioned with Hidden Fortress, I tend to forget how well these work on the big screen. The atmosphere was good, aside from the annoying little performance piece in the place of a movie introduction. But, on the plus side, thanks for reminding me why I hate college kids' art!

Yojimbo is really familiar, since it was remade into the western A Fistful of Dollars. Both are great movies, and I enjoy each one a lot. Yojimbo is Kurosawa at his jidaigeki, or period drama, best. It's Kurosawa taking timeless themes like how power corrupts and the world isn't what it used to be and placing it in a place and time that is essential Japan. One great piece of this is the appearance of a pistol in the middle of the film. The man with no name just shakes his head. This is what happens, the scene says, the world is going to hell.

I had forgotten how dark the film is. The man with no name has lost almost all hope. Even when he gives in and chooses to help a pathetic couple, you get the sense it is from his past values more than his present. He's willing to live with the dishonor of his life, taking money for killing. But he remembers having honor. This is something Kurosawa loved to play with in his films, the sense of a changing world, of fitting values into a modern society.

In the film, the characters clap when exchanging money. The clapping is to drive away the bad spirits, to make the money in some way an offering. In traditional Japan, like in many cultures, money is a pretty dirty thing. Merchants were below farmers in a social system based on Confucius, and the rich were banned from true high society. The rulers levied harsh taxes to maintain the kingdom, but mostly they got power through conquest and marriage. Samurai never worked for pay; in fact when the Meiji reformers started mocking samurai, one of the things they'd say is that now they work for pay, or sell their swords to pay their debts. Mifune's character is a hired assassin, as far from a samurai as can be. But he isn't so far gone that he doesn't remember being a person of honor, who served his lord.

The translation was pretty good, though I did have a few of the usual quibbles. They translate "Suman" repeatedly as "Thank you." It's really more of an "excuse me" kind of phrase. In the movie it stood out as sounding both modern and a little humorous. Saying "Suman" when asking for a gun is either ironic or silly. You can say a sincere thank you, that has some weight. Another translation was "naruhodo" as "I see." I have actually argued about this even with Japanese people. Translation is a strange science, and it's hard to do unless you're really culturally and linguistically versed in both nations. There are almost no people for whom this is the case. That being said, I think the expression has an element of agreement that doesn't translate into the English "I see." The English sounds detached, unaffected by the outcome. The Japanese is often used in this way, but there is a tension to it that I don't hear in "I see." I would vote for "okay," because there is that element of tentative agreement in "okay" that gets that same tension across.

So, another great one from Kurosawa, another reason to get to the theater. I am really becoming enamored of the big screen these days. If I could get rid of all the college arty types, I would never leave.

The Three Bad Guys In The Hidden Fortress

I got to see Kurosawa's wonderful and funny Hidden Fortress on the big screen this week. In our standard venue, of course. This time we were without Smartz, leaving us free to pick up hot Kurosawa chicks. We... didn't.

This is the movie that is famous for having inspired aspects of Star Wars. The volunteer gave a little preview that explained how this film was not at all similar to Star Wars, and the only similar aspect was having the story approached from the viewpoint of the minor characters. Except, watching it again, I realized that there is a lot that did come from Hidden Fortress in Star Wars. There is a general who needs to escape from the authorities with valuables. There is a princess who is a badass, but sweet too. There is a tough guy who realizes at the last moment that he should help the princess. Instead of seeing the princess vulnerable when her planet is threatened, we see her shed a tear as her remaining servants sacrifice themselves to save her, and the fortress burns in the distance. Sort of a combination of Luke's aunt and uncle and Alderaan there, I suppose. But these aren't minor similarities, to me.

I had never seen this on the big screen, and I realized why movies like this are meant for the theater. It's a fun movie, big and humorous, with some surprisingly sweet moments. The funny moments are really funny. It's over the top, in good ways, much as Star Wars is. The comic relief is great, and I actually laughed out loud several times at the goofy peasants. Watching them pantomime taking the horses for a drink is worth the entire movie alone. Seeing the movie like this, I liked it immensely more than I had previously. This is not a movie to watch while drinking tea and reading a magazine, as I had before. This is a Star Wars epic, for enjoying with friends.

The subtitling was generally quite good, but I had a few problems. One is the song, which is pretty key to the plot. They translate the first line as "A man's life, burn it away," or something similar. The better translation, which makes more sense in the context, and is explicit in the Japanese, is "A man's life, man burns it away." That's important. The song is about wasting our time, and not living in the moment. It inspires the aforementioned Han Solo character to act, and the original, the despair version, would not.

This is a major problem with American takes on Japanese culture. Seen from our perspective, it can sometimes seem a little dark, or at least resigned. But it's often a problem of linguistic and cultural translation. There is a certain sense of fate in Japanese culture that isn't present in our youthful and idealistic society, true. But it isn't negative. It's just an acceptance of how things are, a low key realism, or pragmatism at the very least. One of my favorite aspects of Japanese culture is this pragmatism. It relaxes me. It's a mellow culture, at its heart. One of the sad aspects of the modern, overworked office worker in Japan is how contrary it is to the nature of the country. I've heard that this workaholic period is slowly ending, which is a good thing. The Economist referred to Japan as the Switzerland of Asia a few years back, and I really like that. I hope that is the wave of the future. They can make a few Gamera films, drink some tea, and have a good rest on the tatami. Take a break, Japan, you deserve it!

The Japanese Han Solo is Susumu Fujita. He was in some Godzilla films too. He's great. And Susumu is an awesome name.

This movie also has Takashi Shimura, who is awesome as usual. (He apparently even played the great tea master Sen No Rikkyu! He's the best.)

PS. The original Japanese title is great, and sets the tone of the film: The Three Villains of the Hidden Fortress

Throne of Blood (AKA Spider Web Castle)

I just got the chance to watch Throne of Blood, of the darkest and most fun Kurosawa films. Herc, Sarah and I went to Grand Illusion Cinema, again, since they are wisely having a month of Kurosawa films. We're getting to be regulars here, and for good reason. It's a comfy place, and the people are all incredibly nice. This is really impressive when you think that they are volunteers. They don't really have to be nice, there's no manager looking over their shoulder. But they are great folks. If they got vegan hot dogs at the concession, I'd never leave.

Throne of Blood is a great film to start off a Kurosawa marathon. It's quick, and dark. It still has some of the elements of theater that really impress me about his work. The great pauses, and long shots. If you haven't seen it, the story is Macbeth. Kurosawa changed the plot, though, so instead of being killed by a moral authority, like Macbeth, Washizu is killed by his own archers when his plans fall apart. I kept thinking of this difference while watching it. I don't know how it feels to someone raised in Japanese culture, but for me, I kept wanting someone to stand up and say, "Wait, this is crazy, what's wrong with you people!"

I'm not sure where the title comes from in English, the Japanese title is Kumonosu-jo, or Spider's Web Castle. I can see why they changed it, it has a certain horror movie connotation in English. But it's a great title. The connotation in Japanese is more of the deception, the spider's web of lies and betrayal that leads to the final conflict. You always know that Washizu is doomed; even he seems to know it, and tries to avoid setting out on the path.

The scenery is amazing, and makes me miss Japan. The exteriors were filmed around Mt. Fuji, and they are gorgeous in black and white. It appears to be winter, or early spring, and the ground is mostly barren. As usual, after watching a Kurosawa movie, or an Ozu movie, I want to sit on the floor drinking tea and staring out at the rain. I'm not sure if this is a normal or healthy response, but it's what happens. I feel good about that.

Throne of Blood also has one of the greatest death scenes in movie history. Toshiro Mifune gets talked about a lot, and for good reason. He could really just grab a scene and run with it. He knows when to shout and when to be silent, and when to flail at arrows in his chest. That is talent.

I do wonder, watching this, how people can romanticize the samurai. Their life seems pretty awful. I'd stick to being one of the rice farmers, making an honest living, not bothering anyone. Your job is to smile and nod at the crazy men hacking each other to pieces. And to grow rice. I get that.

He's a Jaguar, You Know

I got to watch Godzilla vs. Megalon again today, and enjoy the Jet Jaguar theme song. It doesn't get any more comprehensible, but it is a fun movie to watch with other people. I'm not totally sure, but I think it is the third time that I have put it on when Herc and Sarah have come over.

I genuinely love the old kaiju movies. There is something sincere about them, which is odd when you consider they are goofy films about giant monsters crushing Japan. Most of the movies don't even pretend to be anything else; they stick a guy in a huge rubber suit, tack on a cliche message about meddling in God's domain, and have at it.

Godzilla vs. Megalon is one of my favorites, though, if only for Jet Jaguar. He's a big robot, designed by people, though he becomes sentient somehow during the movie. He has his own theme song, which I haven't fully translated. The first line cracks me up every time. Roughly translated, it goes, "He was made by people, he's a robot but... Jet Jaguar. Jet Jaguar. He's a jaguar after all."

Jaime disagrees with me, and thinks "He's a Jaguar, you know" is a better translation. I don't agree linguistically, but I have to agree that, "He's a jaguar, you know" is an awesome line. I'm going to start using it in daily conversation. (President Obama's pick of the Secretary of the Interior is John Thompson. He went to Yale. He's a jaguar, you know.)

Something of my fascination with Japan can be explained be these films, I just know it. There is a grandiose mythos attached to a goofy, simple architecture. Everything is mismatched yet uniform. I know there is a way that this makes some kind of connection in my brain.

And if not, hey I got two guys in rubber suits duking it out on a sound stage in Tokyo. Maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

(No, it isn't.)

Pain, Pleasure, Large Quantities of Donuts

My second week of school is going well. The busy-ness has settled into a steady hum, the PRC is moving along, and I got to see seals the other day with the kids and Herc and Sarah! We stopped by the park after eating our way through a stack of donuts, and there were actual frolicking seals in the Sound! They seemed to be frolicking, at least, they were a ways out in the water.

The one thing that's getting to me is my health. As I enjoy my donuts and coffee, I'm beginning to feel as though their days are numbered. Or mine are. I've had this recurring issue of numbness and tingling, or paresthesia as Jaime likes to call it, for awhile now. It's associated with chest pain and a few other symptoms, which sounds kinda bad. So, I'm finally getting going on dealing with it. I've been to a few doctors, but I always get confused looks, due to the oddity of the symptoms. They make me feel as though I'm either a hypochondriac or a ninety year old man. But I am getting tired of the symptoms, and the worry it's causing Jaime. The last straw was me dropping my bag of chocolate chips due to having a weak grip. When my chocolate is threatened, I act.

(If the problems force me to give up sugar, the irony will not be lost on me.)

And speaking of irony. While enjoying some awesome cinema with the aforementioned Herc and Sarah, I was annoyed to find a person sporting ironic pink headgear in front of me. This person had two different pink hats, one on top of another. I really don't get this wave of ironic clothing that has swept the nation. I mean I understand, it's Kaliyuga and all, things are gonna get nuts. But wearing stupid clothing just to be stupid? Maybe he really liked the look, in which case, okay. Insanity is a medical condition, treatable and comprehensible. What is the pleasure in wearing clothing that you think is ridiculous to make a funny statement? I've worn some goofy clothes. But I wore it because I liked it, I thought it was fun. Ironically mocking yourself is just an odd pastime.

On the plus side, a big screen version of Rashomon was great fun. The movie was as great as I remember, dark and gorgeously shot. I had forgotten the amazing Ozu-style shots that Kurosawa did in this one. Brilliant.

A lot of attention goes to Toshiro Mifune in this, but I am always struck by Takashi Shimura, who plays the woodcutter. He was in a ton of great movies, a few of Kurosawa's. (and a kaiju flick imdb.com tells me. Awesome!)

His best that I've seen is Ikiru. If I ever regret learning Japanese, reminding myself of the ability to watch this movie without subtitles sets me straight. It's an amazing, beautiful film. Along with Dodeskaden, (is this one available in English? I can't find an English title) Ikiru is one the most watchable Kurosawa movies for me. Unlike the intensity of Red Beard or Rashomon, these are deep films but not so shocking. (maybe it's the parent in me, but the scene at the end of Rashomon with the baby feels like a punch in the gut)

(Boy, a lot of parenthetical remarks today.)

(It's been a long day. Be thankful there aren't more sentence fragments.)

If donuts and Kurosawa movies and seals cure my health issue, I think I'll be on to the most fun treatment regimen ever devised. I'll patent it. Maybe I can call it Samurai Donut Seal!

(If that isn't already a cartoon. Sounds like it is.)

Yes, I Am In Fact Ready For Some Football. Thank You.

Today was a day off, which meant donuts at Mighty-O, errands, and a fun game of football at Herc and Sarah's house. We watched it on a digital channel, on a giant TV, which got me wishing for a giant TV for the first time. And got Jaime saying no, not for the last time.

Viri is starting to enjoy football, which is fun. Dangerous. But fun.

My days are usually so packed that the day off has become extremely valuable. I enjoy my time now, and I enjoy spending it with friends. Having Herc and Sarah here has greatly increased my fun in free times, since they like to do a lot of the same things. Namely joking around and eating vegan treats. This can be accompanied by a football game, a bad movie, or a classic movie that I love and have never seen on the big screen.

I won't go on again about how much I love living in a city. But I will a little. The chance to use my rare free time to go to a theater and see a movie like Rashomon is amazing.

As much as I love West-By-God, I can't imagine changing into a constricting small town at this point in my life. I sing the lyrics to "Green Rolling Hills" to myself often, and I was thinking about the lyrics to that song, and others I love about West Virginia. They all tell you you have to leave! Then you come back when you're old, to die. I can really understand that; WV will always be my home, in a way that Seattle is not. But my life is lived here, the kids can go to good schools here, I can have a great time here. Then, I retire, sell my business, move back to WV and buy a giant piece of land.

Jaime argues against even that, she wants to move to Hawaii. As I get old and the cold sinks into my bones, maybe I'll agree. Jaime wasn't born in WV, though, so she doesn't have that odd sentimental attachment that I do. Hell my kids weren't born there. But I like the idea of going back, spending my last few years looking at the hills, and reflecting on my life from my home.

Until then, I will enjoy where I am. There is plenty of joking and vegan treats left for me, organic food to gorge myself on during playoffs, the Mariner's new season they haven't blown yet... and by next fall, after the baseball season and the World Series, I imagine that Herc and I will be more than ready for a little football, thank you kindly.

Dark Knight of the Soul

I finally got around to watching this summer's Dark Knight. It was interesting. Certainly well crafted. I have a soft spot in my heart for Batman, since he played a large part in my development for a fictional character. The movie was good, a little difficult to watch and (no pun intended of course) dark, but well written and acted.

The movie is very much The Joker Show, with special guest Batman. Which is fine, and as I said the well put together film gets a huge break for style. Heath Ledger generated a lot of interest with his performance here, and his death made a media circus out of the film. He does do a fine job, and is creepy as hell as the villain. This is the real strength of the film. The Joker is a great opponent for Batman, cruel and crazy and chaotic. It's always a mistake to make him fun or amusing. Clowns aren't funny to anyone not already psychotic. Clowns are evil and dark and sad. If we laugh at all, it's because we're relieved that we aren't anything like them.

Batman attempts to bring some kind of order and justice to the world, and the Joker delights in madness. A strange and awful version of the prisoner's dilemma is especially interesting. The message of the story is that while we get weak and afraid, we don't always lose what makes us people. We may laugh at the clown in relief, but we aren't willing to don the make-up and throw pies.

The plots of the Joker are evil and interesting. He goes a little overboard with the planning, however. The fear mongering tactics of the Joker are a weak point of the film, I think. (How many times does he pretend to be a police officer? Thirty?) One thing that diminishes fear is exposure. Look at how few of us have nightmares about Dick Cheney now. In 2001, he was terror incarnate.

The film does a good job with the mythos of Batman. Batman is the hero that can solve our problems by being outside of the system. He chases down bad guys without worrying about courts or lawyers. The character works because while we want to trust the system, most of us know we can't always or even usually rely upon it to work. When the villain is buying off judges, it's nice to know there's a good guy who will punch him in the face. Making Bruce Wayne a billionaire is more than just a convenient way to alleviate worries about the price of gas for the Batmobile; it makes him immune to the kind of worries that more mundane civil servants have. He has a yacht and his own jet, what are you going to bribe him with?

I don't think I'll watch this film again. It's hard to stomach the meanness and cruelty beyond the first viewing. But it's an interesting movie to see, especially at night by myself. Nothing like a dark cold evening pondering the meaning of morality! I couldn't help thinking of the Joker's message of "there is nothing in the world but randomness" as a spiritual challenge. Seeing the meaning in life is the job of decent people, and the underlying order and beauty of the world are visible to those not blinded by their own image. Fittingly, the Joker makes everyone in his image: his henchmen and victims are copies of him. The ultimate narcissist is our villain. And the Batman fights him, but not as his opposite. His opposite is Jim Gordon, the family man, who cares about everyone more than himself.

Batman gets all the credit though.

ps. I have a new nephew today! An awesome little boy without any red hair at all, for which his parents are grateful.