Tonality in Subtitle Translation

ubtitles should compliment the tonal nature of language—the sounds, pauses and stresses of an actors' on-screen performance. Viewers can hear and see the original. They need subtitles that capture the nuances of repetition, sound combinations and the emotional impact of the original dialogue. This tonal quality is as much a part of the aural experience of a film as its visual impact. Indeed, with many actors, it is the primary concern. Subtitlers must be equally concerned.

Translators do everything possible to replicate the original film. The actor's delivery, the source language, the screenplay—all must find their way into the subtitles. Viewers rely on subtitles to clarify which sounds, if any, play a role in the dialogue's intent. In this way, a subtitler translates the whole meaning of an auditory expression—its literal phrasing, tonal quality and emotive relevance to the original audience. Linguist Robert Henry Robins:

Subtitling is an interpretive act essential to the enjoyment of the film for non-native audiences. It is a worthy endeavor that helps bridge cultural and linguistic gaps by sharing as much as possible of the original with viewers.

Certain qualities of sound are universal, such as loudness and force to communicate heightened emotions or emphatic stress. Similarly, quiet speech reflects intimacy, tenderness or confidence (sometimes chilling) on the part of the speaker. Translator Rainer Schulte acknowledges the stylistic role of repetitive text and "the inherent tonal quality underlying words as sound spaces." He adds:

Although a film's audience may note the difference in tone as spoken by the actors, they are unaware of which words have received emphatic stress. A character's intent can be represented by adding stress points to the subtitles. Consider how each stress point alters tone:

Body language, inflection and facial expressions all contribute to overall meaning in life as in film. Subtle differences in tone can have a dramatic impact on how viewers perceive a scene. A subtitler must know the original film's characters and context before making translation choices.

Subtitles should match the style of delivery. Choose vigorous phrasing by default—it's usually shorter and fits the scene adequately. However, a character's personality may demands weaker words. Study the script to know which translation serves the viewers:

In both cases, the "he" in question is the focus of the dialogue. Changing it to "I could be happy with him" is completely wrong. Listen to the actor's reading of the part; study the character and the script to decide which style suits a scene. Each says something different about the speaker:

The first is informative; the second whining; the third wistful. Note subtle differences and match them to the script and delivery of the original. In another example, languages are riddled with negatives, liberally sprinkled in a way that makes perfect sense in spoken dialogue but can be cumbersome in written form. Use negatives sparingly, according to the source language, but remember that often an equivalent is equally clear. If the tone seems unsure or accusatory, use the negative:

If the inflection is merely interrogative, prefer the positive:

Many languages have varying levels of formality attached to the word "you," employing different terms for essentially the same meaning, as explained by translator Robin Buss explained: "Every European language except English (in which 'thee' and 'thou' have long been archaic except in some dialects) has kept the second person singular for use with intimates, close friends and relatives." This is illustrated in the Buss translation of Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo:

Compare this to the anonymous translation published in 1846, which sidesteps the forms of address completely:

Buss asserted the 1846 translation "makes very little sense here, because Monte Cristo has said only three words (four in the translation) since entering the room, which is frankly not enough to provide grounds for her accusation. The point is that one of the three words is the formal, second person plural, vous." Buss had a point. Observe the telltale tu and vous in the original French:

However, subtitles do not enjoy the luxury of space and time that is afforded literature. Explanatory notes do not belong on-screen. In The Last Cavalier, translator Lauren Yoder smoothly inserted a helpful explanation in the text itself:

This question of formal and intimate terms comes up frequently in subtitle translation. A character is miffed that his lover uses the standard form of you or, conversely, another is insulted when the intimate form is used inappropriately. Translating either simply as "you" would make any extreme reaction to the term jarring and out of place. Observe the tonal qualities of the actor's delivery within the context of the scene. If the man's lover uses the formal you, subtitles may represent this with stiffer phrasing and decreased contractions to indicate a stylistic change that is echoed in the delivery. If sudden intimacy is indicated, increasing contractions and using shorter, less structured expressions will replicate the impact of an informal you. The actor's inflection and body language are as important to the translation as the dialogue itself. Fredric Jameson observed that there are two uses of word codes, the literal message as conveyed in the words themselves and a second, subtler code:

Good subtitles do not merely translate the original film—they complement the dialogue and action. They become part of the film itself, inseparable from the original for an audience that needs them to complete the audio/visual experience and make it comprehensible. Andrew Porter stressed the importance of matching written translation to sounds in the introduction to his classic translation of Richard Wagner's The Ring of the Nibelung (Der Ring des Nibelungen):

Just as Porter's opera translation is incomplete "until it meets the music," subtitles are incomplete until they meet the aural and visual stimuli for which they are intended. Each work has its own atmosphere, moods, tonal qualities, and repetitions of themes and phrases. Capturing the tone of a film requires understanding the original and something more. Screenplays suffer greatly from poor subtitles, especially literal translations that more often than not communicate something totally different from the spoken dialogue. The source has a unique tone. Poor subtitles fail to capture it, to share it with the viewer. Mood must be understood to find its way to the screen. Again from Robin:

The Captain Alatriste series by Arturo Pérez-Reverte displays how significantly tone can affect audience perception. The novels are told in the first person by Alatriste's protégé, Íñigo Balboa. During the course of their adventures, readers learn as much about Íñigo as Alatriste. The opening paragraph in the first novel, El capitán Alatriste, delivers necessary information while setting the tone for the series:

Margaret Sayers Peden's translation from the novel:

This dialogue was lifted from the novel in Agustín Díaz Yanes' film, Alatriste (2006). Compare Íñigo's voice-over in the final scene:

The Fox Latina subtitles use only 59 words to the 74 in the book translation. Yet viewers get a clear image of how Íñigo sees Alatriste—brave and bold, a survivor. The subtitles honor the tone of the film and the source novel, clearly defining the story's key relationship.

How characters interact in a film must be reflected in the subtitles. Answer these questions and the context becomes clear:

Once the subtitler has identified the relationships, it's easier to find the right tone. Even an innocuous "What times is it?" may be phrased differently depending on the context of the scene and the characters in question. The phrasing tells much about their roles:

Only one of these will do. The translator's craft identifies which is accurate. The subtitler's art discovers which is perfect.

In the popular Korean historical drama, Dong Yi, the power of inflection to change a single word is used to great effect. The Korean form of address to a king, cheonha, is used throughout the program by nearly every character. The term itself does not change, but the tonal qualities of speakers change dramatically, from sycophantic ministers to respectful retainers. The subtitles usually use the term "Sire" in the interest of space, trusting the audience to understand the motivations of the characters in the context of the program. However, the King's love interests pose a particular challenge. The Queen, with whom his marriage was arranged, addresses him as "Sire." His consort has a more romantic tonal quality in her dialogue with the King. To communicate the subtle difference that is so dramatically evident to the original audience, the subtitles have the consort address the King as "my lord" whenever she uses the term cheonha. Viewers immediately sense that this relationship has meaning, conveying the tonality of the delivery in the translation. The King, in turn, addresses her as "my lady" to further underscore their intimate relationship.

Later the consort's villainous nature is revealed. She has had the first queen deposed and assumed the crown herself. When she and the king confront each other in episode 31, her use of the term cheonha undergoes a tonal shift that was not lost on the original audience and must be included in the subtitles:

In the same episode, the King has realized his deep and abiding love for Dong Yi. Where the consort's use of the term cheonha distanced the characters, Dong Yi's delivery illustrates the tender shift in tone as they at long last admit their true feelings. Dong Yi has addressed the King as "Sire" throughout the program. Her inflection changes in this scene as communicated to the audience by the actress' voice quality; in subtitles by the shift in the translation of the term cheonha:

Thereafter, the consort/queen addresses the king as "sire" in subtitles. Dong Yi addresses him as "my lord" in any scenes involving only the two of them—retaining "sire" in translation for public scenes, ensuring the audience understands the unique inflection of the term in different settings. Translating across such vastly different linguistic and historical milieus is a cross-cultural exercise, as explained by Robin:

Comedies often make great use of tonality, providing subtle variations in sound, repetition and intonation that are particularly challenging to present in subtitles. The Korean romantic comedy, Personal Taste (Gae-in-eui chwi-hyang; 2010), for example, gives deceptively simple lines a laugh through the actor's delivery. It can be subtle, as when the protagonists assures her friend in Episode 4, "You're my onliest bestest friend." In this dialogue the phrasing is emphasized with a lilting semi-baby voice. "Onliest bestest" replicates the her little girl tone. The same episode has a delusional girl announce of the male lead, "I'm Jinho's affianced." The girl's tone is intentionally irritating. There is a recognizable quality to her incessant whining and wheedling. The line demands careful word choice to illustrate in English how deluded she is. "Affianced" is usually reserved for formal written announcements, not normal conversation—it matches forced formality of her dialogue and informs the viewers that she is taking on airs and being a little silly.

Comedy is at its best when it combines humorous sound combinations with wordplay. One comic character in Personal Taste is a master of the art of sycophancy. In Episode 4 he greets and important business contact with exaggerated polite phrasing:

It's possible to translate this line as "Gracing our humble office with your gracious person," but the repetition in English gives the same sense of over-the-top politeness in the original dialogue. This is matched by the character's exaggerated bow on-screen. The actor's delivery punches a triple 'g' sound in the original dialogue—a humorous bit of alliteration that is replicated by the triple 'grace' sound combination in the subitles. In Episode 3 of the same program, two women argue in a medley of word repetition:

The original is bickering and repetitive. That's the joke. The subtitle capitalization echoes the stress points in the dialogue, illustrating for the viewer the subtle shift in meaning amid all the "do's" and "cares." As a bonus, it reads very well, making full use of the subtitles as part of the entertainment whole. Reading well is as important as sound, as in Episode 5:

Here hard consonants compliment a charming alliterative quality. The original begins each line with a hard "k" sound and ends both sentences with a rhyming motif. The subtitle works in tandem with the blocking to illustrate her disgust at his using his height to tease her. The hard "p" in "proving" carries a similar weight as the "k" repletion in the original, just as small/tall replicate its rhythm and rhyme. The screenplay is having fun with words. The subtitles should do the same.

Subtitles deal with rhythm, cadence and inflection. Many lines have a subtle lyricism in their original language. The subtitler performs a synthesizing role. Translator and subtitler Corinne Imhauser:

Dialogue doesn't stand alone. It is part of a much larger picture. Some words carry thematic weight. They deserve careful attention in subtitles, such as the final scene in French from Edmond Rostand's play, Cyrano de Bergerac:

Carol Clark explains the difficulties of translating the hero's dying words:

This is one of those rare cases when an English equivalent may not be required. In the film and play versions of Cyrano de Bergerac, the visual reference to the plume is absolutely clear. Using "panache" in subtitles gives proper weight to the actual meaning while adding a dash of, well, panache.

The last few minutes of José Ferrer's brilliant performance in Michael Gordon's Cyrano de Bergerac (1950) are filled with melodrama. At the end of his life, Cyrano fancies himself surrounded by old enemies:

This is a moment of depth and power. It won Ferrer a Golden Globe® and the Oscar® for Best Actor. The scene is melodramatic. The script is rich with emotions and isn't shy about expressing them. It dares to dream. If screenwriters Brian Hooker and Carl Foreman had feared melodrama, the film would be a tawdry farce. Hooker and Foreman understood the dramatic themes and characterization of the original. They honored the context. Carol Clark went further, using modern American English infused with melodrama but bereft of archaic terms:

Anthony Burgess found just the right note in his translation of Jean-Paul Rappeneau's elegant French version of Cyrano de Bergerac (1990), written by Rappeneau and Jean-Claude Carrière. Burgess kept within the time and space constraints of subtitles while informing the dialogue with lush melodrama:

This film won the Best Foreign Film Golden Globe® and five Oscar® nominations. The subtitles are precise, lyrical, passionate and do not insult the audience. Final lines of dialogue often have great meaning to an audience that has stayed with the protagonist through many trials. In the last scene of Queen Seondeok (Seondeok Yowang; 2009), the heroine dreams that she visits her younger self. Although her reign name was Seondeok, she is known by her given name throughout the program, Deokman. The older and younger Deokmans are played by different actresses, so for this scene the script identifies the same person with separate names, Seondeok (older self) and Deokman (younger self). Seondeok hugs Deokman on the street:

Observe the difference in tone and phrasing between the older and younger Deokmans. In the source, Seondeok's last two lines are actually the same verb, repeated with subtle variations. The English subtitle replicates the tonal quality of the original, repeating go/fo— and on/on. The verb used in the final line is often translated as "endure" or "survive," but both are forced and wrong in this scene. Young Deokman is just beginning her great adventure. She is full of hope. The older Seondeok is sad, yes, but also smiling, wistful. In the Making of special, writers Pak Sang-yeon and Kim Yeong-hyun discussed this point:

"And yet you must endure" has a sense of doom. "Survive" is even worse. "You must go on" means the same thing but implies a hopeful future, however bleak. If "go on" is a positive way to express the first sentiment, then "forever on" is a poignant way to replicate the subtle shift in verb endings. This translation honors the original's power and intent. It echoes the nostalgic tone of the dialogue and offers encouragement.

The subtitler's role is interpretive. Viewers may not know the language at all—or only a little—and are hoping for a sense of the original: its humor and pathos, tragedy and charm, romance and thrills. The subtitles must be transparent. Their tone must serve the original. Yet in this act of service a translator may create something truly worthwhile: a new version of the film that has never been experienced before. Consider opera soprano Renée Fleming's comment on interpreting a role as it applies to the source of a translation:

Even when immersed in the original, subtitlers cannot escape their own perceptions and stylistic eccentricities. Audiences bring their own foibles and preconceptions to the experience, making each film unique for every viewer—indeed, for the same viewer multiple times. William James' famous observation on human perception is as true with film as any other human endeavor:

Subtitles are not strictly solitary nor are they truly collaborative. They are interpretations of how one person represented the dialogue at a given moment. The translator as writer is forced outside well-trod paths onto new ground. Subtitles allow audiences to do the same.

References

Alatriste (2006). Directed by Agustín Díaz Yanes. Screenplay by Agustín Díaz Yanes from the novel by Arturo Pérez-Reverte. Subtitled by Fox Latina.

Dong Yi. MBC (2010). Directed by Kim Sang-hyub & Lee Byoung-hoon. Screenplay by Kim Yi Young. Translation © MBC America. Episodes 11-60 translated by D. Bannon. Reprinted with permission.

Dumas, Alexandre. The Last Cavalier. Pegasus (2007): 78. Translated by Lauren Yoder.

Fleming, Renée. The Inner Voice: The Making of a Singer. Penguin (2004): 156, 181.

Imhauser, Corinne, in Gilbert C.F. Fong, et al. Dubbing and Subtitling in a World Context. A collection of selected papers presented at the International Conference on Dubbing and Subtitling in a World Context, organized by the Department of Translation of The Chinese University of Hong Kong in October 2001. Imhauser's paper was entitled, "The Pedagogy of Subtitling." The Chinese University Press (2010): 232.

The Great Queen Seondeok (Seondeok yowang). MBC (2009). Directed by Pak Hong-kyun & Kim Geun-hong. Screenplay by Kim Yeong-hyun & Pak Sang-yeon. Translation © MBC America. Series translated by D. Bannon. Reprinted with permission.

James, William. Psychology. Henry Holt (1892): 329.

Jameson, Fredric. The Ideologies of Theory: Essays 1971-1986. Vol. 1. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988. 27.

Pérez-Reverte, Arturo y Carlota. Captain Alatriste. Putman (2005): 1. Translated by Margaret Sayers Peden.

Personal Taste (Gae-in-eui chwi-hyang). MBC (2010). Directed by No Jong-chan & Son Hyung-suk. Screenplay by Park Hye-gyung. Translation © MBC America. Series translated by D. Bannon. Reprinted with permission.

Porter, Andrew. Introduction to The Ring of the Nibelung by Richard Wagner. Norton (1976): ix, xv-xvi.

Robins, R.H. General Linguistics: An Introductory Survey. Longmans (1964): 31, 113, 115.

Rostand, Edmund. Cyrano de Bergerac: A Play in Five Acts. R.H. Russell (New York; 1898): 293-94. Translated by Gladys Thomas and Mary F. Guillemard.

Schulte, Rainer. "How Should a Translator Walk through a Text?" Translation Review, 75: 1-2.