Translations, Subtitles and the Loss of Nuance
In his Oscar acceptance speech, ARR said, “Ella Pughazhum Eraivanukke” along with that other gem from Deewar. A PFC author asked what it meant in Tamizh, and several authors translated it along the lines of “All Praise to the Almighty.”
I added my nuanced (aka BS) translation, and said that it actually means, “Don’t praise me, praise the Lord, for I am merely a vessel for His beneficence.” There is nothing in the original quote or language to support this. It is my interpretation based on my knowledge of Rahman’s life and beliefs. I followed my translation up with a heathen anti-god rant, and lost the rare good will I had generated by pissing all over the party.
Recently, other friends of mine, and PFC regulars were discussing the beauty of Gulzar’s poetry and how translations don’t do it justice. My friend paraphrased a French adage, after due qualifications about not being sexist, a translated work is like a woman — if it’s beautiful it’s not faithful and if it’s faithful it’s not beautiful.
The job of a subtitle writer, or translator is tricky and thankless. No one will seek you out except for the ardent fans, (quick – who translated Nobokov’s Lolita in English?), and since you must be a writer of some caliber to pull off great literature, it’s a bit like being paid to watch someone fuck your spouse. I don’t know any translators that went on to write anything great that was published.
A good translator must be well versed not only in both languages, but also the idiom of both cultures. If a character in a Hindi movie says, “Naach na jaane aangan teda,” the English subtitle would hopefully not be literal, and about a dancer without skillz, but perhaps the more idiomatically correct, “A bad carpenter blames his tools.”
But how does one translate, “Sivan poojailla karadi poondhu vandha maathiri?” I suppose one would have to invent something suitable. I’m not sure what the above means exactly, but it has not stopped me from using it indiscriminately, cos the imagery is too darn funny.
What about works of art that require interpretation on the part of the viewer/reader? Should the translator be faithful to language, idiom, or should he add his interpretation? This is most likely a great moral dilemma for a good translator, just above the choice of italics.
In Swades, K.P.Saxena had this wonderful dialogue, “Apne hi paani main pighalna barf ka muqaddar hota hai” or some such. The metaphor is so striking and visual that I would feel comfortable translating it literally, without the need for interpretation, because explaining it would kill the scene, and become bad dialogue. I don’t know how the English subtitle for this bit was handled.
We must remember that art was the original language of mankind (much after guttural sounds, but perhaps only shortly after opposable thumbs evolved). Long before sapiens invented poetry, they made…
and this…
Art was probably born of the frustration from the inability to communicate emotions and abstract thoughts. Written and spoken language, along with poetry, literature, and subtitles, came much later.
I admire ideas. Even the bad and outrageous ones. I respect artists brimming with ideas that have mastered the craft to express ‘em.
If your art is all about using a certain instrument or canvass (medium is the message bs), or stringing words together innovatively but bereft of insight or meaning, you are merely a circus juggler switching balls for flaming chainsaws. Briefly entertaining, like a handjob from a stranger on the train, but it’s no multiple orgasm with your love.
If you love literature or film that was originally created in a language you are unfamiliar with, fret not over the loss of nuance. Once a work of art has been birthed, it no longer belongs to the mother.
It is yours to use as you please, and if the ideas expressed were unique and strong, you will get it. Your version of it. The most important thing for a patron of the arts.
Tags: a r rahman, art, deewar, gulzar, k.p.saxena, lascaux, Oscar, presitoric art, Rahman, subtitles, venus of tan-tan
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Reminds me when I was watching Mohabbatein on DVD, there was a dialogue when Archana Puran Singh tells Anupam Kher – “Mar jawa gud kha ke”, and my subtitles read – “Eat sugar and die”.
i always wonder how difficult it must be to translate dialogues…recently i was watching Lagey Raho Munnabhai…there is excelllent use of language in the dialogues…Gandhi’s caharacter speaks sophisticatedly whereas Munna’s does the opposite..n amazingly they say the same thing…Now this movie was appreciated in Cannes…i wonder whether the foreigners wud have enjoyed the movie as much as we did…was the translation as effective??
Hmmmm…The ‘loss of nuance’ is an interesting way to word it. Whenever I watch a foreign language film, I keep thinking about the connotations that I’m missing. If I can like the movie despite not having access to these ideas, then it’s a great film. Personally, Goddard’s Breathless was one such work.
And subtitling is a pain in the wrong place. I’ve tried my hand at it and believe me, it was a lesson in patience. You need to twice as smart as the guy who wrote the original lines. This is probably why most subtitling efforts are a joke.
But, translating(if done with right intention) sometime add new dimensions to a movie.for eg in a Scene of some James Bond movie, Halle Berry ,when inquired by the villain regarding who has sent her for spying on him,replied” Your Mother”….But the Hindi translation added a whole new dimension(of HUMOR) when the sexy damsel ,in desi avtaar,answered replied “Tumhari Amma ne”
thanks for writing this..
I am purist when it comes to poetry.. each word crafted by poet creates the essence of poem for me… and I am very methodical and analytical on why the poet chose certain words.. because poetry writing in urdu specially is metered and writer has liberty of writing it in only certain style.. so although it ties the poet down but it’s an interesting challenge to see how the poet choose his word in those constrains.. and that fun can only be experienced in the original language. I don’t read or write urdu but luckily the hindi script can write urdu very accurately…
and when I read translated poetry in English I don’t care much about the original language, but I am more concerned on how beautiful it is written in English as if I enjoy it written originally in English..
and you are absolutely correct that art in the end is interpretation…
Recently I saw 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 days… a Romanian film, setup during the final days of communism.. the movie is about a female friend helping a pregnant girl friend of getting an illegal abortion… i obviously dont understand Romanian, and heard the discussion about the movie on NPR.. so checked it out.. although i loved the movie, but i am sure i only understood what translator thought was interpreted.. but without that translator i would have missed a good film..
i agree with you on cultural part. .that somethings are untranslatable.. but the cynical me thinks hindi movies these days arent that pure that directors cant hire good translator.. even movies like Dev D, Luck By chance.. and big budget movies like Dostana (yup i finally saw it)and ghajini..did a lousy subtitles job..
I would offer the Bell-Hockridge Asterix translations as perhaps one of the finest examples of having transmuted mood, idiom, and nuance from the originals.
WONDERFUL piece! Thank you so much for putting our thoughts into words! OK, first a question: is the first image you – and I quote – “pissing all over the party”? When I was scrolling down, I thought that’s why it was there… Made me giggle.
I like what you say when you write that art “… is yours to use as you please, and if the ideas expressed were unique and strong, you will get it. Your version of it.” It’s always been my credo when watching Hindi films and when listening to the poetic – and often lost on my poor knowledge of the language – lyrics of some of the most beautiful songs ever created. I know that deep in my heart I GET “E Ajnabee” from Dil Se… I get “Duniya” from Dev.D and “Tum Ho Toh” from Rock On! even if the subtitles aren’t including the idiomatic nuances that my apt Hindi-speaking friends assure me I am missing… The music, the voices, the lyrics create an atmosphere within me that transports me to a different place and time. Ultimately, yes, I think I could understand Rumi even without those wonderful Coleman Barks translations. Perhaps the works would take a whole new meaning then, but as you so aptly point out, once the piece is made it no longer belongs to the artist…
Just as an aside, a personal note, even though my first language is Italian, I do sometimes read Italo Calvino and Umberto Eco in English, simply because of William Weaver’s brilliant translations, which help me understand additional layers of the works, and I read “Maximum City” once again in Italian since it was just so damn beautifully translated!
““Sivan poojailla karadi poondhu vandha maathiri?” ”
This would be kabab pe haddi in Hindi, though thats too simplistic compared to the vivid imagery invoked by the tamil version, as you rightly observed.
In English, the closest I can think of is Pain in the neck, though that is too loose a translation
“Once a work of art has been birthed, it no longer belongs to the mother.”
Lesson Learnt.
Lost in tranlation or transliteration…Vey good point that ” a translated work is like a woman — if it’s beautiful it’s not faithful and if it’s faithful it’s not beautiful. “
I wonder how Jadhwal’s (Gulaal) “mere paas maa hai” dialogue would have been translated.
I found it very funny that in Oye Lucky Lucky Oye when Dolly calls Lucky Vinod Khanna, it is translated as Clint Eastwood.