I didn't know it at the time, but in 1993, when I went to see "Cool
Runnings" in a packed movie theatre in downtown Bonn,
Germany, I was in for
a once-in-a-lifetime experience — and in more ways than
one.
Sitting in the dark next to a friend (whose mood changed from
hilarity to
mild embarrassment to utter disbelief at my complete lack of
self-restraint), I laughed so hard I could barely breathe, eventually
changing to a high-pitched wheezing, only to be set off again at the
next
line of dialogue. Unsurpassed by subsequent movie-going
experiences, I can
honestly say this is the funniest movie I've ever seen.
It is also the only movie I've ever seen where the dubbed version is
better
than the original.
Take it from me. I'm fluent in German and English, decent in
Italian. I
even dimly recall a sentence or two in French and can say, "Where
are you
from?" in Swedish. By no means though, would I be able to fully
comprehend
a movie in a language other than English or German. And while I
already had
a great affinity for movies back in the days of "Cool Runnings," I
had only
seen them in German, and dubbing never struck me as odd.
When I finally saw the original non-dubbed versions, mostly of
movies made
in the US of A, bewilderment gave way to intense surprise, then
anger at
having been cheated out of the real movie deal for so long.
Take any movie you want. If it's exported and dubbed, not only will
there
be an annoying and highly distracting discrepancy in the
synchronization of
lips and sound, but much of the story is lost in the translation.
Much of
that loss is due to subtle changes in the translation, particularly
when it
comes to expressions and cultural references that are either
omitted or
awkwardly explained, more often than not killing the joke and
butchering
the story line. Of course, now that I've seen the real thing it
becomes
even more obvious what's missing, what part of the story has been
tampered
with, and just how badly the dialogue has been adjusted.
The worst thing is the voices. While it is usually the same person
dubbing
a major actor for all of his or her movies, it's a though call between
hilarious and simply sad to hear Bruce Willis' throaty rasp reduced
to the
nasal, whiny tones of a German David Spade.
This is especially disconcerting since an actor's voice — the
accent, intonation, and emotion — is an integral part of his or
her
performance.
Encouraged by my good experiences with original-language films,
I
have recently developed a penchant for what some people —
and you know
who you are — unjustly and ignorantly refer to as "these weird
French
movies you watch." These weird French movies — with
subtitles. Since my knowledge of French is exhausted by ordering
café au lait et croissant, I occasionally have
to glance at the bottom of the screen, though for the most part the
story
is surprisingly obvious. These films aren't your typical, box office
mish-mash. They're critically acclaimed features like Jean
Beaudin's
"Being At Home With Claude." A film in which Quebecois actor Roy Dupuis delivers a
spectacular 30-minute monologue in French-Patois. Though I
don't literally
understand a single word, this final scene, pretty much the key to
the
movie, is mesmerizing and the subtitles seem unnecessary,
because Dupuis'
voice and eyes say it all.
A recent example of subtitle success is "Traffic." This extraordinary film
employs subtitles
for Mexico-based Spanish-language scenes. It not only works, but
it's part
of what makes the movie great. It creates a certain mood, it makes
it
authentic, it makes it feel right and true, because, well, people in
Mexico
tend to speak Spanish.
There is a notion that subtitles keep the viewer from
watching the movie. If it's a good movie, they won't. What's
happening on the screen will tell you the story — the words
merely one piece
of the puzzle that falls into place, and the subtitles so secondary,
they
quickly fade into the background. If they don't, it's not a good movie
and
not worth your time anyway.
Dubbing on the other hand creates a peculiar kind of cultural
barrier by
fencing in understanding and imagination. This barrier is invisible
to most moviegoers, perhaps because they've never had the
chance to see the real thing, but more likely it has simply not been
brought to their attention that a different version exists.
So consider this your wake-up call. Next time you browse the
shelves at
Blockbuster, don't pass over the foreign section. Pick up that
French,
Italian, German, Russian movie you've heard so much about.
Experience the
difference and re-discover movies.
After all, what are the chances of another "Cool Runnings" coming
your way
anytime soon?
Eva enjoys long afternoons watching weird French movies.
