When Everything Old Can Be New Again

Have you tried Deep Nostalgia yet?

No, it's not a support group for memory-lane enthusiasts, where everyone gets together to reminisce about the good ol' days—though honestly, that might be more enjoyable. Rather, it's a relatively new gimmick from the genealogy site known as MyHeritage.

The service uses AI animation and video reenactment to predict how still photos of your younger self, long-deceased loved ones, or, if so inclined, even historical figures could come back to life. The technology simulates how these subjects might move or gesture, i.e., watch how their heads tilt, eyes blink, or the most ardent curmudgeon break into a smile!

Given how listless I've felt lately, I decided to delve into this form of hocus pocus for a desired jolt of my own.

And apparently, I'm not alone.

Even Donny Osmond, now 67 and far removed from his "Puppy Love" days, is not letting sleeping dogs lie. The former teen idol is also diving into the AI scene, promising his upcoming Las Vegas residency will feature an AI-generated avatar version of his 14-year-old self from 1972 to accompany him for a few nostalgic duets.

One news outlet captured the mixed reactions:

"Some people love the Deep Nostalgia feature and consider it magical, while others find it creepy and dislike it," MyHeritage says about its technology. "Indeed, the results can be controversial, and it's hard to stay indifferent to this technology. This feature is intended for nostalgic use, that is, to bring beloved ancestors back to life. Our driver videos don't include speech in order to prevent abuse of this, such as the creation of 'deep fake' videos of living people."

"The end result is not authentic—it's a technological simulation of how the person in your photo would have moved and looked if they were captured on video," wrote the company in an online guide.

Incorporating AI innovation into live music performances is part of a bustling trend in the entertainment industry.

Holograms and augmented reality have been used for years to resurrect celebrities, case in point Elvis, who, by the way, has yet to leave the building. The popular band ABBA, among others, recently also used AI for their digital concert series. 

After downloading the MyHeritage app and signing up for an account that granted me two or three free tries, I finally selected a favourite black-and-white photo: 1-year-old me in a lace-trimmed white dress, wearing what looked like Merino wool tights. The image captured me sweetly giggling while standing on what I probably thought were my dad's oversized clown feet as he elevated me up and down in the air.

I uploaded the photo to the app, and my heart was racing. I clutched a Kleenex, ready for my emotional journey back in time, bracing myself for the magic of AI. And then, a few minutes later, I received an email notification that the process was complete.

I clicked on the photo/video and first impressions; my dad somehow switched ethnicities while sporting a more stylish pair of glasses; that's cool! Second: In the original photo, my dad's hands were outstretched, holding both of mine. But in the animated version, though, he leans forward, dropping one hand, permitting the "imposter me" to jump up and down, mouth slightly ajar, revealing an unsettling and unnatural set of grownup teeth. Now, that's disturbing and uncool.

Next, I tried with another photo, this time an old photo of my mom holding me lovingly in her arms, our cheeks pressed together. When I applied the method again, and the photo/video sprang to life, my mom—thankfully—kept her likeness, unlike my dad's strange transformation. But then her one arm freed itself, and she began hurriedly massaging my terrified little face with a rubber-like hand.

The purpose behind MyHeritage is to offer a fresh perspective and an opportunity to view these photos in a new light; it's meant to forge a deeper, more nostalgic connection with our most treasured photos and memories.

But in my case, this experience had the opposite effect.

It reminded me of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, a film exploring themes of identity loss and the fear of losing humanity. In animating these photos, they lost their essence. The movements didn't capture the spirit of how I remembered my adored parents. Instead, their revived selves felt hollow—alien-like even, and it only deepened my sadness and intensified my sense of loss.

The emotional reactions to Deep Nostalgia—from delight to discomfort—suggest that these technologies reshape how we remember and connect with the past. It's clear that there's no limit to what AI-driven technology can achieve. The real question is:

Do we really need this? And if we do, how do we ensure that these artificial illusions, which are disconnected from reality, serve us rather than haunt us?

I realize that everyone's experience will be different. Some might find it amusing or even comforting, and that's great if it does that for you.

But for me, flipping through an album filled with cherished memories and images is an act of quiet reflection that needs no further alteration or reimagining to hold its meaning.

As renowned Swiss-American photographer Robert Frank once said, “There is one thing the photograph must contain: the humanity of the moment.”