Saturday Q&A

As a reminder, this week we are focusing on fun questions. We picked six questions in each of four different categories, along with a trio of gallimaufry questions for dessert.

We actually got many hundreds of questions when we put the call out for fun ones. This tells us there is interest. Also, there are questions we will not get to today that we would nonetheless like to answer. So, we are going to do this next Saturday, as well. Then we'll switch back to the more serious stuff once we gear up again.

Note, incidentally, that there WILL be a mailbag tomorrow.

Education

M.G. in Boulder, CO, asks: What advice would you give an intelligent, creative, financially disadvantaged student and L.A. resident who wanted to attend UCLA?

(V) & (Z) answer: Your question seems to be focused on the financial angle. That is not the real challenge here. If a student gets into UCLA, and really is financially disadvantaged, the school will find a way to help them out. That may require some loans, but even if that is so, they will be nowhere near as onerous at a private school.

The real challenge is getting admitted. Things were competitive in (Z)'s undergraduate years (early 1990s), and they are even more so now. An aspiring Bruin needs, first and foremost, a solid academic record. We're talking an unweighted GPA of at least 3.6 or 3.7, and a weighted GPA north of 4.0. That really needs to be accompanied by some extracurricular activities and, ideally, some awards or other recognition. (Z), for example, was named Orange County Artist of the Year in his senior year of high school (for theater work). That certainly did not hurt his chances.

UCLA no longer uses the SAT or ACT, so (Z)'s experience there isn't much help. What the school does require, these days, is responses to "personal insight" questions. Those were not part of the process in the 1990s, so (Z) can't speak to them directly. However, he can speak as someone who has often read 100-200 responses on the same subject in a short timeframe. And whether we are talking about essays on the Civil War, or "personal insight" questions, the basics are surely the same. An applicant wants to make sure, first of all, that their work is clear, well-organized, free of spelling and grammar errors, etc. No matter how wonderful a writer they are, they should have at least one or two people who are experienced essay writers look things over and make comments. Equally important: Be interesting and thoughtful. For example, one of the sample questions on UCLA's website is: "What would you say is your greatest talent or skill?" An applicant should think about the things that hundreds of students will write (music, problem-solving, scientific research) and then... come up with something else.

Beyond that, at least in the 1990s, an applicant improved their chances if they applied to study an unpopular major. For example, (Z) had a roommate whose numbers were quite not up to par, but who got over the hump by applying as a Spanish major. Maybe that doesn't work anymore, but it can't hurt to try—a student can change their major after enrolling. Also, UCLA is required to accept a certain number of junior college transfers each year, and the ratio of applicants to open slots is much more favorable than it is for general admissions. In particular, Santa Monica College is known as a feeder school for UCLA. So, an applicant who does not get in at the outset can consider attending classes there for a year or two, doing very well, and then trying again. This would also reduce the financial burden, since SMC is much cheaper than UCLA.

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J.K. in New York City, NY, asks: My son is about to go to college and I have a daughter in high school. When I went to my liberal arts college in the late 1980s, I felt that the culture respected studying humanities: art history was a very popular major, and English was a sort of default for many. It seems that now STEM is all the rage. My old school even made a STEM class into a requirement (there are very few requirements at my old school), and ditched the "Civilization in Question" requirement. How much has the respect for humanities actually changed in the U.S. in the last 30 or 40 years? Are students intellectually suffering because of it? Professors? What is it comparatively like for students nowadays who focus on humanities?

(V) & (Z) answer: There are a couple of underlying dynamics here. First, reduced government funding for education has forced schools, particularly public schools, to find other ways to pay the bills. One of those is through outside donations. So, money tends to be lavished on divisions and disciplines that appeal to donors (and that might produce students who could one day become fat-cat donors). If you visit UCLA, for example, you can tell where the money is because the medical school and business school are gleaming edifices in the latest architectural style. There are several such buildings on south campus (sciences), as well. On the other hand, the history department is in the same ugly, poorly designed, and increasingly decrepit building it's been in since the 1970s. Policial Science, several of the ethnic studies departments and geography are in that building, too.

The reduced funding (and increased administrative overhead) has also caused pretty much every school to raise tuition dramatically. When (Z) was an undergrad at UCLA, it was $3,000 a year. Now it's $15,000 (and that doesn't include books, room and board, etc., of course). At a private school, it's even worse. Because students and parents are laying out so much money, and are often going deep into debt, it is increasingly common for them to see education as an investment in improving the student's job prospects, instead of in improving the student. So, there is much-increased demand for STEM classes, but also for other "practical" majors like accounting, business, marketing, economics, etc. Universities have adapted to these changing demands.

This does not mean that the humanities are dead. Some students still pursue those majors (though Z cannot count the number of times he's had a student in his office say: "I'm thinking about history as my major, but will I be able to get a job?"). And most universities have kept some number of humanities courses on the list of graduation requirements. But where a history department or an English department would once have been the bedrock of a university, they are increasingly reduced to second- or third-tier status.

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B.D.P. in Ferndale, WA, asks: I'm curious about how you manage the use of AI by your students. While AI can be a valuable tool for learning, such as speeding up coding processes and assisting with subjects like calculus, it also raises concerns about students using AI to write their essays and papers. How do you balance the benefits and challenges of AI in an academic setting?

(V) & (Z) answer: (V) has not had to deal with this, as he's been emeritus for the entire AI era. For (Z), on the other hand, it is a real problem, and one that's only 2 years old (ChatGPT became available in November 2022). That means that addressing the problem is a work in progress.

There are several reasons that AI is so difficult to fight back against; (Z) will give you what he thinks are the four biggest. First, it's so easy to use. Second, the results seem SO GOOD. Third, students operate under the assumption that this tool will be a part of their professional lives, and they might as well start using it now. Fourth, academics (particularly academic administrators) tend to go crazy about new technological tools, and how they are going to change the face of education. So, university leadership is aggressively promoting the "appropriate" use of AI tools, but doing a piss-poor job of communicating where the line between "appropriate" and "not appropriate" is (or even that such a line exists).

(Z)'s approach, thus far, has had two major elements to it. The first is that he gives a little speech on the first day of class, and tells the students that their work must be honest, and that he does not want to be a police officer, but if he has to be, then he will be, because he has a duty to the honest students and the university. He also tries to explain the problem by way of analogy, saying something very much like this: "If I hear someone singing, unless they are very bad, then it will sound OK to me, because I'm not a musician. However, a professional musician can hear that same person and recognize instantly that they are a quarter-tone flat. Well, the same thing applies to historical writing, both quiz responses and essays. Something that looks completely OK to someone without my 25+ years' experience sticks out like a sore thumb to me."

The second major element is various demonstrations built into the course. (Z) has an exercise where, in preparation for the first quiz, he gives students some examples of quiz questions. For example, there might be a question like this:

In my discussion of Woodrow Wilson, I compared him to a very famous fictional character. Give me the name of that character, or the author who created that fictional character.

Then, (Z) fires up ChatGPT in class, and asks it to answer the question... several times. For example, here are the first four answers it gave last night:

In your discussion of Woodrow Wilson, you compared him to Professor X from X-Men, who was created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

Woodrow Wilson has been compared to Dr. Manhattan from Watchmen.

Woodrow Wilson has often been compared to Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings.

In your discussion of Woodrow Wilson, you compared him to Captain Ahab, from Moby-Dick by Herman Melville.

None of these, by the way, are correct. The discussion of Woodrow Wilson focuses on how he is like a Shakespearean tragic hero, such as Hamlet, with positive qualities that were ultimately outweighed by his negative qualities. Anyhow, after this demonstration, (Z) says something like: "If you decide to use ChatGPT, you need to ask yourself: 'How sure am I that the answer I get/pick will be the right one?'"

(Z) also does an exercise where students are given three essays to grade. One of the essays is a real, A-level essay, from an actual student (used with permission, and without the name attached). A second is a mediocre-quality essay, written by (Z), with various common mistakes deliberately incorporated. A third is produced by ChatGPT. After the assignment is completed, (Z) averages the grades the students gave, and does a presentation, in which he reveals the sources of the three essays, and shows that a legitimate A essay earned an average grade in the A range, while a legitimate C essay earned an average in the C- range, and the ChatGPT essay earned an average in the D- range. The concluding observation: "Even if you fool me with a ChatGPT essay, which is not likely, it's still D-level work. Is it worth the risk, just for a D?"

All of this said, there's still work to be done. When classes commence again, (Z) is likely to make two changes: (1) spelling out, explicitly, that the first instance of cheating earns a zero for that assignment, and an advisory report to the Office of Student Conduct, while the second means an automatic F in the course, and a request for sanctions from the Office of Student Conduct. Second, (Z) will make some or all of the first quiz anti-cheating questions. For example, and this was recommended by the Office of Student Conduct, a question that reads something like this: "If a student is caught cheating once, the penalty is _____________; if they are caught cheating twice, the penalty is _____________."

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C.S. in Philadelphia, PA, asks: You have previously written about how college history courses are organized. As a former history major, and now as someone in a role where I occasionally register students for classes, I'm curious about the following. It seems that, for American history, the convention is for two entry level courses, with the dividing point being the Civil War/Reconstruction. Has there been any movement to add a third American history course, and what would the split look like? And how do other nations on the university level teach/divide up their nation's histories?

(V) & (Z) answer: On those occasions where U.S. history is broken into three pieces (much more common in grad school than in undergrad), it's done by centuries. So, part one is origins through the 18th century, part two is the 19th century, and part three is the 20th and 21st centuries. Another possible schema would be origins (up through 1750 or so), the long 19th century/the end of the old order (1750 to 1920), and the modern age (1920 to the present). However, (Z) has never actually seen it done that way. If it WAS done that way, it would strongly imply a pretty heavy focus on foreign affairs and diplomatic history.

(Z) is unaware of any movement to chop the U.S. history survey into three parts. Per the answer above, history departments are currently fighting to protect the turf they have, and are not in a position to demand more turf. Further, a lot of professors have done their preps for the survey as a two-part course, and would not be pleased to have to re-do them as a three-part course. (Z) once knew a colleague who had taught the second half of U.S. history as a 15-week course. When he came to a school on the quarter system (i.e., 10 weeks), he just taught the first 7-1/2 weeks one quarter, and the second 7-1/2 weeks the next, so he wouldn't have to do any new prep work. The university was not pleased when students began asking "How come this class ends at 1920, when it's supposed to go up to the present?" and "How come this class starts at 1920, when it's supposed to begin in 1876?"

Anyhow, if a student really wants a more in-depth look at things, pretty much every history department has upper division courses that divide U.S. history up into six or seven or eight smaller chunks. (Z), for example, regularly teaches 1840-1876 (i.e., the Civil War era).

As to other countries, we are not in a position to answer that. But certainly some of our foreign readers are. If those readers send in a brief overview to comments@electoral-vote.com, we'll run some of them, either tomorrow or next week.

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K.S. in Harrisburg, PA, asks: Is there any way to truly determine if the top-rated colleges are teaching any better than the non-elite schools? To measure performance by salaries of graduates is not accurate in measuring actual teaching. I know the top colleges have big name professors, such at Nobel laureates, but getting an 18 year old to understand a concept is very different than winning an award.

(V) & (Z) answer: (Z) often tells students: "If you want to get a good education, that is largely on you. You can get a bad education at Harvard, and you can get a good education at Upper Southwest Arkansas Tech and Barbers' College. It may be a little easier to get a good education at the former, and a little harder at the latter, but it's really up to you and the choices you make."

As you surmise, there is little to no correlation between a person's prowess as a scholar and their prowess as a teacher. (Z) has had courses with some very brilliant scholars who were also very good teachers. And he's had courses with some very brilliant scholars, including one Nobel laureate, who were very mediocre teachers. There are at least three important dynamics here, which are somewhat interrelated.

First, people with genius-level understandings of a particular subject often struggle to communicate to non-genius-level people. You see the same dynamic in professional sports, where superstar-level athletes rarely make good coaches or managers. That is due, at least in part, to the fact that superstars don't know how to get maximal production out of average talent, because they never had to do that. Similarly, geniuses never had to figure out how to make sense of something with non-genius-level intellect.

Second, although this has changed a little in the last 20 years or so, research universities do not incentivize good teaching. They incentivize good research, since that's what brings in the money and the glory. So, if they are choosing between someone with a great teaching record and OK research and someone with a great research record and lousy teaching, they will always go with the latter. For some elite scholars, it is a point of pride to also be a good teacher. But that's by choice, not because there are huge career-related rewards in successful teaching.

Third, good teaching takes time. A lot of time, quite frankly. Great scholars often spend most of their time on their scholarship, which leaves little time for the work needed to teach effectively. At some schools, particularly your Ivy League-type schools, students can't even get classes with the elite scholars because the faculty are given so much leave time. The average full professor at Harvard, for example, teaches two classes a year, one graduate and one undergraduate. And if they get research funding, or they take on administrative assignments, that might get knocked down to one class a year, or zero. (Z) knows someone who badly wanted to take a class at Yale with C. Vann Woodward (this was a while back), and was not able to do it because in her 4 years there, he taught a grand total of one undergraduate course.

If the quality of the teaching is a student's main concern, then their focus should be on liberal arts colleges or on non-research state schools (like the Cal State system, for example).

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R.M. in Norwich, CT, asks: I have enjoyed reading histories and biographies since an early age. I started reading quite a few books by John Toland and Robert Leckie. As I got older, I immersed myself in the works of what I call the Big Three: David McCullough, William Manchester and David Halberstam. How would you rank/rate them on readability, research, and any conclusions they draw? And if those are the Big Three, which author of the past 50 years would join them on the Mount Rushmore of popular historians?

(V) & (Z) answer: Keep in mind that these folks are writing for a broad audience, and so they are mostly interested in putting together a compelling narrative that will be accessible to non-experts. Of the three, the one who was most rigorous, and whose analysis comes closest to professional, academic scholarship is David McCullough. William Manchester was not all that interested in advancing an argument, but was pretty rigorous with his facts, so we'd put him second on the list. And David Halberstam let his own biases creep in far too often, and far too prominently, and sometimes seemed to be cherry picking his facts. So, he'd finish in third place.

As to a fourth person, the obvious addition would seem to be Doris Kearns Goodwin, though we could also see making a case for T.J. Stiles, James McPherson, Robert Caro or Alan Taylor.

The Arts

J.T. in Philadelphia, PA, asks: Over 10 years ago, I saw a program on C-SPAN-2 where, among other things, a group of historians were discussing movies about the Revolutionary period and how historically accurate they were. At least one of them mentioned the musical 1776 as being, in his opinion, the most historically accurate. As a fan of that musical, I was especially happy to hear that.

Not necessarily confining yourself to that period, do you have a list of films that you consider the most historically accurate?

(V) & (Z) answer: First, let's note that most filmmakers, since the 1970s or so, have endeavored to get the details (costumes, hairstyles, architecture, technology) as correct as is possible. So, there are plenty of films that are accurate in that way, but that tell a historical tale that is highly distorted.

Second, let's note that some allowance has to be given for the medium. A filmmaker has roughly 90 minutes to tell a compelling story, one that the audience can follow, and one that adheres, more or less, to standard plot structure. That means exposition in Act I, a journey in Act II, and a climax and resolution in Act III. In order to achieve this, some amount of fidelity to the historical record has to go by the wayside.

Third, and finally, we cannot speak to all films, because we have not seen all films. We can only speak to the ones that we have seen. And so here is a definitely-not-exhaustive list of 10 historical films (in rough chronological order) that are way above average when it comes not only to details, but to the characterizations of historical figures, and the events portrayed:

• 12 Years a Slave: If you want to know the horrors of slavery, this is the movie to see. It's pretty faithful to the book it was based upon, which is also titled 12 Years a Slave.
  
  
• Glory: There are three films on this list where some/many/all of the characters are fictional. This is one of the three; while the main character (Robert Gould Shaw) was a real person, and is largely portrayed accurately (though they downplayed his racism), the Black soldiers he commands in the movie were composites of different "types" of Black soldiers (educated freeman, respected elder, runaway, etc.) and were not real people. However, the film does an excellent job of giving the feel of Civil War combat, and also gives a generally accurate portrayal of the major events in the story of the Massachusetts 54th Infantry Regiment
  
  
• Lincoln: It is uncanny how on-point the characterizations are in this film. Except for the actor who played Ulysses S. Grant, the various performers are damn-near spitting images of their historical counterparts. Meanwhile, they all speak and behave in a manner consistent with what the historical record tells us (particularly Daniel Day-Lewis as Lincoln, Tommy Lee Jones as Thaddeus Stevens, and Jackie Earle Haley as Alexander Stephens). The events, as portrayed in the film, are also basically correct. The names of the members of Congress who voted to keep slavery were changed, so as to avoid embarrassing their descendants, and Steven Spielberg contrived a way to squeeze the Gettysburg Address, an 1863 speech, into a film set in 1864-65. The filmmaker also accepted, uncritically, the gossip that Stevens was sleeping with his Black maid. But outside of those things, the film is very solid.
  
  
• Titanic: This is the second film on this list that includes fictional characters. The key background figures—Benjamin Guggenheim, Molly Brown, John Jacob Astor IV, Capt. Edward Smith—are all real, and basically all look and speak like the genuine article (well, except for Astor). The main characters, however, are all invented. That said, even if the Jack Dawson/Rose DeWitt Bukater romance never happened, and there was never a "Heart of the Ocean" necklace, and there was never actually a question as to whether or not they could both fit on that door, the film really gives you a sense of what things looked and felt like in 1912, from the aggressive lines drawn between social classes, to the sense that the world was embarking on a new era. And the actual sinking of the ship is just about as accurate as is possible—in fact, the movie timeline and the real-world timeline line up exactly.
  
  
• The Grapes of Wrath: This is the third film with fictional characters; in this case, in contrast to Glory and Titanic, none of the people you see in the movie were real. However, both the screenplay and the book were based on real ethnographic research conducted by John Steinbeck. Further, doing real research, and using that the basis for a work of fiction, was a legitimate approach to getting at "the truth" in that era. And if you want a feel for the truth of the Great Depression in California—how it looked, how it felt—there is no better film than this one.
  
  
• Schindler's List: This is a movie directed by a Jewish man (Steven Spielberg) and written by an Armenian man (Steven Zaillian). In other words, we're talking about members of communities who know something about genocide. Both men took it as a point of honor not to take liberties with the historical record, and they largely did not do so. Yes, there are some dramatic flourishes, but not really any outright falsehoods.
  
  
• Selma: This one was made while many participants in the events shown were still alive. And they pretty much all said the film got it right.
  
  
• Apollo 13: Again, most of the participants in the events were still alive when the film was released, and they helped make the film into something like a documentary. Some details were changed, for various reasons, but the main narrative of the film is pretty much spot-on.
  
  
• Milk: In a vein similar to Schindler's List, this is a film directed by a gay man (Gus Van Zant) and written by a gay man (Dustin Lance Black). They also felt it was a point of honor not to take liberties with the historical record. And so, the movie is a pretty spot-on telling of the story of Harvey Milk.
  
  
• All The President's Men: A clear theme running through this list is "made while the participants were still alive." Well, in this case, not only were the participants still alive, but the events shown were just a couple of years in the past. The film is so concerned with fealty to what really happened that, in fact, some contemporary reviewers wrote that there was too much factual information, and that it messed up the pacing of the film.

Obviously, these are U.S.-centric films. That is because the list is being compiled by a U.S. historian, who's not in a great position to evaluate films about other nations' histories. That said, we are pretty sure that Monty Python and the Holy Grail is basically documentary-level accurate.

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G.W. in Oxnard, CA, asks: I was watching Gladiator II and one character said, "Hose him off and bring him to me." I thought, "That can't be right," and I googled it to find that the hose was invented in the 1600s. How do historians view the anachronisms in popular entertainment? Does it drive them to distraction?

(V) & (Z) answer: A historian who gets worked up about anachronisms in historical films is going to need to lay in a large supply of antacid.

In general, particularly in the last 50 years, there are usually discernible reasons for the anachronisms. To take one example, since it's fresh in the mind, the 1983 film A Christmas Story contains details that could not possibly go together, chronology-wise. While it's strongly implied that the film is set in 1939, it also has the Little Orphan Annie decoder ring from 1940, shows U.S. soldiers in uniform (doesn't make sense until sometime after December 1941), mentions the Lone Ranger's nephew's horse (not introduced until 1943), features the song "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (also 1943), has a chattering teeth gag toy (invented 1947), and features numerous cars from the late 1940s. However, the whole point of the movie is that it's a guy recalling his childhood. And anyone recalling their childhood is going to get some of the details wrong. So, the inaccuracies are actually... accurate.

Language, in particular, is very hard to get right. First, a modern speaker is going to have trouble even figuring out what things might be different 40 or 60 or 80 years ago. Mad Men, a series that was famous for its fastidious attention to detail, couldn't even pull it off—academic analyses, aided by computers, showed that the characters spoke in the style of the 2000s, not the 1960s. Further, even if the language is correct to the time period, it can be jarring to audiences, who either don't know those words or phrases, or who know different meanings.

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K.E. in Newport, RI, asks: Do you think there will ever be a revival of primetime soap operas in the U.S.? As a teen in the 1990s, I watched Melrose Place. Growing up in Rhode Island, I thought it was a realistic depiction of people and life in Southern California at the time. When I got to visit California for the first time in my early 20s, I was expecting the people to look and act like the characters on this show, and within a few hours I remember being disappointed and I quickly realized my expectations were wrong.

(V) & (Z) answer: There probably won't be primetime soaps in the style of Dallas, Dynasty or Beverly Hills, 90210, just as there are no longer sitcoms in the style of I Love Lucy, Leave it to Beaver or The Honeymooners. But there are clearly still primetime soaps, with Grey's Anatomy, which is now in its 21st season, as the most obvious example.

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R.M.S. in Lebanon, CT, asks: There is a genre of film that was once common in the U.S., but has virtually disappeared in this country: the erotic thriller. These movies were very popular, especially in the early-to-mid-1990s, but since then, they seem to have vanished. Erotic thrillers combine explicit sexuality and the possibility of violence, and often involve predators using seduction to commit murder or sex crimes on victims. Two of the most famous examples of this genre are Basic Instinct, starring Michael Douglas and Sharon Stone, and Body of Evidence, starring Madonna and Willem Dafoe.

Why did the erotic thriller genre die out in the U.S., and do you think it will ever make a comeback?

(V) & (Z) answer: Last Friday, the Nicole Kidman movie Babygirl was released; it's currently #7 at the box office. The first sentence of the Wikipedia entry for the movie is: "Babygirl is a 2024 erotic thriller film written, directed, and co-produced by Halina Reijn."

So, we think you may be assuming facts not in evidence. That said, we would accept the proposition that this genre is less common than it used to be. The primary channels for selling such movies (outside of the occasional smash hit, like Basic Instinct) were, at various times, B-movie theaters, bargain-basement VHS tapes and DVDs, and second-tier pay cable networks (which is why Cinemax was once known colloquially as Skin-e-max). To a greater or lesser extent, these outlets have gone the way of the dodo. If people want to be titillated a little, or a lot, there are now more efficient options than this sort of movie.

Also, in the same way that it became politically problematic to make traditional Westerns after the 1960s, we suspect that many of the classic elements of erotic thrillers would now raise #MeToo-type concerns.

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D.O. in Sudbury, MA, asks: Is it fair to say that The Godfather, Part III would have succeeded if Francis Ford Coppola hadn't refused to pay Robert Duvall what he was worth, and hadn't cast his nepo-daughter in the role of Mary Corleone?

(V) & (Z) answer: In answer to your question, we're going to start by talking about Full Metal Jacket. When people see that film, they normally think of it as having two parts: (1) training camp, and (2) Vietnam. However, if you think of it as having three parts—(1) training camp, (2) life in Vietnam, and (3) the Tet Offensive—it actually makes the film much better. No changes, just a different mental framing.

Similarly, when The Godfather, Part III was released, it was marketed as, in effect, another equal entry in the series. There aren't many films that can live up to that comparison and, besides, the film doesn't really fit into the saga in that way. Then, a few years ago, the film was rereleased under the title The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. There were virtually no changes (basically, just one new scene inserted at the beginning). However, the different framing changed the way that people viewed the film. Instead of being a third entry, it was really more like the postscript to the other two films. And instead of the main story being the papal conspiracy, it was the tragedy of Michael Corleone. And so, the film was better received with that framing than with its original framing.

Did Coppola make other mistakes? Sure. The film would have been better with Duvall, and without his daughter (and also without that godawful hairstyle they gave Al Pacino). But we really think the framing was the most important thing, not the casting.

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R.S. In Ticonderoga, NY, asks: I have a question about the movie It's a Wonderful Life. About 40 years ago, the film was all over TV, including the ghastly colorized version (thank you, Ted Turner). My understanding is that the movie entered the public domain and became fair game for broadcast by any on-air and/or cable network. Now, for several years, NBC has been the exclusive broadcaster of the classic movie. Did the movie indeed enter the public domain, and if so, how has NBC managed an exclusive deal?

(V) & (Z) answer: The movie did indeed enter the public domain, due to a mistake made in the copyright renewal paperwork. And so, various broadcasters proceeded accordingly. However, the rights holders to the original story (The Greatest Gift, by Philip Van Doren Stern) eventually asserted themselves, and established that while the movie was in the public domain, the characters were not. And those rights holders then negotiated an exclusive deal with NBC to to use the characters (and thus, to be able to broadcast the film).

A similar situation existed with Sherlock Holmes. For a period of time, part of the Holmes canon was in the public domain, and part was not. So, it was legal to make a version of, say, A Study in Scarlet (first published 1887), but it was not legal to make a new work featuring Holmes and Dr. Watson because a portion of the stories, and thus the characters themselves, remained protected by copyright. The folks who made Star Trek: The Next Generation ran into some trouble with this when they did a Holmes-centric episode ("Elementary, Dear Data"), and got a not-too-friendly letter from the literary executors of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It took a while to straighten things out, which is why the follow-up episode ("Ship in a Bottle") was not produced until 4 years later.

This is now a moot point, incidentally, as the entire Holmes canon is public domain in the U.S. as of January 1, 2023. As to The Greatest Gift, it will not be in the public domain until 2038, so it will be a while until It's a Wonderful Life is being broadcast on 20 different channels again.

Science Fiction

D.T. in Columbus, OH, asks: In Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Odo is a shapeshifter. His clothes are not real, but rather just part of the humanoid form he assumes. However, Odo regularly taps on his comm badge to begin communicating with others, or to initiate a beam out. Is it a real badge?

If so, where does he keep it while in non-solid form? If not, does that mean Odo himself is a living communicator?

(V) & (Z) answer: This is one of many questions where the show provides the facts, though not an explanation.

There is an episode ("The Begotten") where Odo, who had been locked in solid form, regains his shapeshifting abilities. Because he had been locked in solid form, he was wearing actual clothes and an actual communicator. To celebrate regaining his powers, he turns into a bird, and the clothes/communicator fall away (since they are, after all, not a part of him). Then, when he's done being a bird, he shifts back, and he's wearing "clothes" and "a communicator" again. Clearly, he can create a communicator as part of his shapeshifting abilities. How that works is the part that is unexplained.

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P.M. in Edenton, NC, asks: Which Star Trek series is the best, and why do you hold that position?

(V) & (Z) answer: All of the opinion questions in this section are being answered by (Z), because he's the only one who has seen these shows and movies. Anyhow, his favorite Trek series is Deep Space Nine.

Note that time has not allowed any serious watching of the series created in the last 5 years or so. (Z) hears good things about Lower Decks, in particular, but is not in a position to evaluate at this point. For now, the only series he can speak to are The Original Series, The Next Generation, DS9, Voyager and Enterprise.

On the whole, he prefers serialized shows, where the episodes build on each other, as compared to shows where every episode is basically standalone. On top of that, the best DS9 episodes, in his view, stand up next to the best episodes of any of these five series—particularly "In the Pale Moonlight," "Trials and Tribble-ations," "Little Green Men," "The Visitor" and "Far Beyond the Stars." It's also more interesting to see a world that's not squeaky-clean and perfect. Finally, DS9 has a more generous share of the really interesting Trek characters than, very possibly, any of the five series: A more fully developed Worf, Elim Garak, General Martok and Kira Nerys particularly stand out.

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M.S. in Norwood, MA, asks: What is your favorite Star Trek movie?

(V) & (Z) answer: Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Yes, the standard answer is The Wrath of Khan, but that one, while good, came out in 1982, when (Z) was 8 years old. By contrast, The Voyage Home came out in 1986, when he was of moviegoing age, and he remembers fondly his experience seeing it in the theater. Plus, it's set in California, and it gives a lot of screen time to his favorite original series characters, Mr. Sulu and Mr. Scott.

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M.C.A in San Francisco, CA, asks: If the Death Star wandered into Federation space, how would that confrontation go?

Just wondering.

(V) & (Z) answer: Well, the first Death Star was destroyed by a dinky X-wing starfighter, and the second Death Star was destroyed by the Millennium Falcon, which is regularly described as a past-its-prime bucket of bolts. The Enterprise, The Defiant and other Federation ships would seem to outclass those two by many orders of magnitude. So, we assume that the Death Star would not survive for long in Federation space.

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K.B. in Manhattan, NY, asks: Please provide thoughtful commentary on the Star Wars holiday special and its meaning for you. Also, please confirm that The Empire Strikes Back remains the greatest sequel of all time in terms of execution and societal importance.

Finally, have either of you seen Andor? Maybe there is hope for Disney...

(V) & (Z) answer: Haven't seen Andor yet, but one of these days. Skeleton Crew also looks intriguing.

As to the holiday special, it's the very best reminder we can think of that when you put commerce before art, bad things happen.

As to sequels, (Z) has already revealed on this site that he favors Return of the Jedi over Empire. And it's for the same reason as with the Star Trek films above; Empire was before his time, having been released when he was 6 years old.

That said, Empire is definitely on the shortlist of greatest sequels, along with Jedi (at least, in Z's opinion); The Godfather, Part II; Terminator 2; Aliens; Star Trek II and IV; National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation; The Dark Knight and Toy Story 2. Most people would put The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King on the list, but (Z) did not care for it.

And the most important sequel of all time, in terms of societal significance, surely has to be either Empire or The Godfather, Part II.

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T.L. in Minneapolis, MN, asks: Who's your favorite Dr. Who and why?

(V) & (Z) answer: (Z) only saw meaningful amounts of that show during the time that he had BBC America, which was a few years back. So, he hasn't really been exposed to most of the Doctors. But of the ones he was exposed to, his favorite was Christopher Eccleston.

Sports

R.M. in Pensacola, FL, asks: Can you gaze into the crystal ball and look ahead into the future and give a prediction as to what major Division I sports will look like in 5-10 years? All of the conference changes have been driven by football, and now, there is no major conference on the west coast, while there are three conferences that stretch from coast-to-coast.

For football (and maybe basketball), it isn't too much of an issue, but for most other sports, I just don't see such geographically large conferences being sustainable. Your thoughts?

(V) & (Z) answer: You are right. To take extreme examples, the UCLA football team plays 12 or 13 games a year. It's not such a big deal for them to travel 6 or 7 times. The UCLA baseball team plays something like 60 games a year, and has to travel 15 or so times, including to places as far away as New Jersey. That is prohibitive in terms of cost, and in terms of impact on their education (and remember, outside of a small number of people, the athletes have no real chance of going pro, and need to get an actual degree).

Surely this is headed to a situation where there will be four football mega-conferences, with probably 16 teams each. Maybe this will also hold for men's and women's basketball. Beyond that, however, surely the lower-profile sports will eventually return to leagues that are much more geographically compact. There is already plenty of precedent for schools playing in one league for some sports, and in a different league for others.

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K.H. in Albuquerque, NM, asks: Thank you for opening up your expertise and offering us an opportunity to ask non-political questions. Mine is at the intersection of history and sports, where I understand you have some knowledge.

As an evolutionary biologist, I have wondered about the evolution of sports in human societies. Is there a generally agreed upon phylogeny of sportsball—that is, a family tree of physical, competitive games centered on a more-or-less spherical object?

I realize some like basketball have sprung forth from the minds of individuals like James Naismith, while others, like American football are an offshoot of something like rugby. Baseball is derived from cricket. Where do things like field hockey, lacrosse, and hurling fit in? Tennis, anyone?

(V) & (Z) answer: We don't know of anyone who has written about this exact subject, but surely—to use the terminology of evolutionary biology—some sports are homologous developments (that is to say, they derived from a common ancestor) and some are analogous developments (that is to say, they developed independently from other, similar sporting activities).

Most of the examples you gave, like the rugby-football or cricket-rounders-baseball evolution, are homologous. However, there are only so many skills that a sport can be built upon (strength, ability to deal a blow, agility, jumping, ability to hit a ball, ability to maneuver a ball, ability to hit a target with a ball or other object) that surely some societies are going to end up with similar end products, even if they did not influence each other. Jai alai and lacrosse would seem to be an example of that; various martial arts would seem to be another. So, in the absence of additional evidence, we would regard jai alai-lacrosse or karate-boxing as examples of analogous evolutions.

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E.P. in Tillson, NY, asks: I was thinking the other day about how the sports landscape changed because of World War. In the NFL, with so many men going into the service, the Cleveland Rams suspended operations and the two Pennsylvania teams temporarily merged to become the Steagles. In college football, Army won three straight national championships, from 1944-1946 In baseball, the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League was formed in 1943 Also in baseball, shortly after the war, Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier

I wondered about other significant sporting events that had ties to news events of their time, such as schedule interruptions/cancellations due to 9/11 and COVID. And then you asked for non-politics questions, so here goes: What do you think are some of the most significant sporting events that were affected by world events, and what were the most significant world events that were affected by sports?

(V) & (Z) answer: The sporting events most affected by world events are undoubtedly the various Olympics, including the ones that were canceled due to World Wars (1916, 1940, 1944), the one marred by the murder of 11 Israeli athletes (1968), and the ones that saw mass boycotting due to the Cold War (1980, 1984).

Meanwhile, the sporting events that most affected the world certainly have to include Robinson and the various other events that broke down racial barriers (Jesse Owens at the 1936 Olympics, the two Joe Louis-Max Schmeling fights in 1936 and 1938, Kenny Washington officially breaking the color line in the NFL, the Black Power salutes at the 1968 Olympics, etc.). The events that inflamed the Cold War, particularly the Russians winning the men's basketball gold at the 1972 Olympics, and the Americans winning the men's hockey gold at the 1980 Olympics, also make the list. There are events that made an important statement in terms of gender equality, among those are the "Battle of the Sexes," the 1994 Women's World Cup soccer final, and the success of Caitlin Clark. Finally, Muhammad Ali's refusal to be drafted certainly helped turn public opinion, especially Black public opinion, against that war.

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B.K. in Martha's Vineyard, MA, asks: I'm very interested in how games change their rules. Many games feel like their rules are immutable, but I know they all have histories. Do the rules of very popular games change drastically, or just have little adjustments? Do they change suddenly, or with small tweaks that add up? (I think I like this question because I have the same feeling of impossible-to-change about whatever political/cultural situation we are in.)

I'm particularly interested in chess and basketball. How did the rules of chess and basketball develop? What might the future of both games be in terms of rules changes, in both the short and long (and even very long) term?

(V) & (Z) answer: There's no one-size-fits-all answer here. Taking basketball as our example, the addition of the 24-second clock and of the 3-point line had a massive impact on the game basically overnight. On the other hand, establishing what does, and what does not, constitute a blocking foul is something that has been tweaked, and tweaked some more, and then tweaked some more, over the years.

Broadly speaking, the rules of any sport or game tend to change in response to any of three concerns. The first is to make the game or sport safer. That's why baseball, hockey and football all began requiring helmets, for example. It's why Major League Baseball pretty quickly cycles through baseballs, as opposed to using them until they're completely worn out (a very dirty baseball, essentially invisible in the twilight, killed Ray Chapman because he couldn't see it and didn't know to duck). It's why the NFL now has pretty strict procedures for what happens if a player suffers a concussion.

The second concern might be described as "balance of play." That is to say, sports change their rules to keep offense and defense basically in balance. When the 7'4" George Mikan started playing for DePaul, and later for the Minneapolis Lakers, goaltending was outlawed because otherwise he would just stop every shot from going through the hoop. When offense went into the tank in the 1960s, Major League Baseball lowered the pitchers' mounds, while the American League added the designated hitter (now expanded to the National League, as well). When cornerbacks started to manhandle wide receivers, the NFL made a rule that there can be no contact after 5 yards.

The third concern is excitement. Nobody wants to play or watch a boring game. This is why the 24-second clock was added in basketball; teams were getting small leads and then holding the ball for extremely long periods of time, resulting in final scores like 18-14 or 16-11. In 2005, the National Hockey League changed the rules such that if a game is not resolved after one overtime, it goes to a shootout. Major League Baseball has just added a pitch clock, because games were getting longer than the attention span of most fans.

Because basketball is a major financial enterprise, with a huge fanbase, there are always people monitoring the sport (most obviously NBA Commissioner Adam Silver) to see how it can be "improved." So, you can expect both big and small tweaks over the short-, medium-, and long-term. At the moment, they are looking very closely at 3-point shots, with the notion that teams are relying too much on them. It seems likely the 3-point line will be moved back sometime soon.

Chess, on the other hand, is a very conservative game. The biggest changes in how various pieces can move, namely that a pawn can move two spaces on its first move, and the queen can move an unlimited number of spaces in any direction (as opposed to just two spaces diagonally) came roughly 600 years ago. The only really significant rule change that has happened in the lifetimes of people alive today is that it takes 50 moves without capturing any pieces to trigger an automatic draw. It used to be 75, and before that, 100, and before that... 50 again.

There is not likely to be any major change in chess during the lifetimes of anyone reading this. If there is, it will probably be granting the queen the ability to move like a knight. Not likely to happen, but there are at least some people pushing for that.

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A.G. in Scranton, PA, asks: As I watch Ken Burns' Baseball again, I wonder if you are of the same mind that the earlier episodes are far superior to the later ones?

(V) & (Z) answer: Yes. Many fewer players, many fewer games, makes for a more manageable story. Each "inning" (that is, each chapter) is one decade, and while you can tell the story of the 1910s pretty well in a couple of hours, that's not really enough time to tell the story of, say, the 1970s.

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S.A. in Los Angeles, CA, asks: Is there any hope for the Angels this upcoming season?

(V) & (Z) answer: No. It is clear, at this point, that the Angels will be mired in mediocrity until there is an ownership change. The Oakland A's, Las Vegas Raiders, New York Jets, Dallas Cowboys and San Jose Sharks have the same problem.

Gallimaufry

M.R. in New Brighton, MN, asks: You have shared with us your opinions on a wide range of topics, but you have been largely silent on a topic confronting many of us at this time of year: Fruit cake. Care to comment on this controversial confection? And while you're at it, where do you stand on the issues of pineapple as a pizza topping, ketchup as a hot dog condiment and beans as a chili ingredient?

(V) & (Z) answer: As with nearly anything, some fruitcakes are good, some are not. We find that, in general, the distinguishing factor is whether or not the baker took care to keep things moist. The bad fruitcakes tend to be overly dry.

As to the other food choices, we're not sure why these things became "things," since there are much stranger choices out there than these (e.g., peanuts on pizza, ranch dressing on hot dogs, chocolate in chili). In any case, we like pineapple on pizza, ketchup on hot dogs (though we don't really eat hot dogs), and beans in chili perfectly well. That said, (Z)'s grandmother made some of the best chili ever, Pennsylvania-style, and it did not have beans.

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A.R. in Los Angeles, CA, asks: This question is for (Z): What are the elements that make for an ideal escape room, and what are the best ones you've experienced?

(V) & (Z) answer: First is an interesting theme. Many escape rooms have horror or true crime or alien invasion themes, and those are not particularly (Z)'s cup of tea. He prefers something historical, or something medieval/fantasy. Second, different kinds of puzzles that play to different strengths, so that everyone gets a chance to be a part of the solution. Third, something unusual or interesting that is unique (or nearly unique) to that escape room. (Z) recently did one where there was a TV with static, and you had to figure out that the sunglasses sitting in a drawer, if worn, made the program on the TV visible. Things like that.

Among the rooms that (Z) quite liked are "Wizard's Treasure," "Da Vinci's Secret," "Grandma's Masterplan," "Tombstone" and "Magic Kingdom."

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T.J.R. in Metuchen, NJ , asks: As a fairly tech savvy guy, I have occasionally had to help relatives with their tech problems. Invariably, this has led to much teeth gnashing and cries of anguish. (Not hair pulling, since I cherish what little I have left...). In every case, I have renewed empathy for those at technical help desks. Saints they must be! Not to denigrate any of your esteemed readers, but I was wondering how often you receive questions that make you want to join in arms with your comrade, the staff mathematician? Hey, even Abe Lincoln had bad days...

(V) & (Z) answer: Truth be told, that never, ever happens. When you spend decades as a teacher, you figure out that everyone has gaps in their knowledge. Further, you don't want to get in the habit of thinking "That was really dumb!", because even if you don't say it, it could come across in your expression or your tone of voice.

The only exception, we suppose, is that there are sometimes questions that are basically passive-aggressive attacks, or certainly seem that way. Things like "Now that Donald Trump has been re-elected, do you realize how stupid and biased you are?" But we don't think that's what you're talking about, and we really don't think of those as questions, since they're not actually looking for a real answer.

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