Parodic dubbing in Spain: digital manifestations of cultural appropriation, repurposing and subversion
Rocío Baños, University College London
ABSTRACT
This paper sets out to explore the phenomenon of parodic dubbing by examining its origins and situating it in its current context. Parodic dubbing symbolises the union of two loathed but highly influential forms of artistic and cultural appropriation, used innovatively in the current digital era. The aim is also to investigate how parodic dubbing reflects the politics of audiovisual translation in general, and of dubbing in particular, revealing similarities and divergences with official dubbing practices. This is done drawing on examples from two different Spanish parodic dubbings from an iconic scene from Pulp Fiction (Tarantino 1994). Throughout this work, theoretical perspectives and notions through which parodic dubbing can be examined (among others, rewriting, ideological manipulation, cultural and textual poaching, participatory culture or fandubbing) are presented, framing this phenomenon in the current discussion of fan practices and participatory culture, and drawing on theoretical perspectives and notions developed within Translation Studies and Media Studies. The investigation of the relationship between parodic dubbing, translation and subversion has illustrated that this and other forms of cultural appropriation and repurposing challenge our traditional understanding of notions such as originality, authorship and fidelity. In addition, it has revealed how such practices can be used as a site of experimentation and innovation, as well as an ideological tool.
KEYWORDS
Parodic dubbing, fundubbing, fandubbing, subversion, cultural appropriation.
1. Introduction
Having been both praised and demonised by some scholars, intellectuals, viewers and film directors (see for instance the discussion in Yampolsky 1993 or in Nornes 2007), dubbing rarely escapes controversy. The illusory nature of this audiovisual translation (AVT) mode, deemed duplicitous by some, manifests itself in its pretension to “hide the foreign nature of a film by creating the illusion that actors are speaking the viewer’s language” (Danan 1991: 612). Indeed, the unflattering adjectives this AVT mode has been associated with — such as fake, stilted, “corrupt, deracinating and deodorising” (Nornes 2007: 192), among others — belittle its efforts and pretensions of rendering an authentic portrayal of original audiovisual texts. This paper concerns itself not with the “prevalent association of dub with distortion, play and subversion” (Craven 2016: 32), which is arguably equally applicable to other forms of AVT, but with a form of dubbing that is openly deceptive and subversive, and which merits closer attention: parodic dubbing.
Having been called parasitic and derivative, and seen as an enemy of creativity and originality (Hutcheon 1985: 3), parody has not fared much better than dubbing. As a long-standing artistic practice enabling modern artists to come to terms with the past, it entails “revising, replaying, inverting and ‘trans-contextualising’ previous works of art” (Hutcheon 1985: 11). Parodic dubbing thus symbolises the union of two loathed but highly influential forms of artistic and cultural appropriation embedded in literary, theatrical and cinematic tradition, and used innovatively in the current digital era.
Parodic dubbing is here understood as the practice of replacing the original dialogue track of an audiovisual text with another track containing a mostly new script created with humoristic purposes. This type of dubbing can be either interlingual or intralingual. The soundtrack replacement can be performed taking into consideration the synchronies at play in dubbing in an attempt to match the new dialogue with the existing visuals and sounds (e.g. music and special effects), or disregarding these, depending on the skill and technical equipment of those involved in the dubbing process. It thus involves repurposing audiovisual texts to comic effect, sometimes with a subversive purpose. This phenomenon has been largely ignored by the scholarly community, frequently mentioned only in passing and often deemed a type of fandubbing or domestic dubbing, done by fans for fans. Such association is erroneous in my view, for as whereas some instances of parodic dubbing can be classified as fandubbing (see, for instance, Wang and Zhang 2016), parodic dubbing is not the exclusive domain of amateurs, as will be discussed in the following section.
This paper sets out to explore the phenomenon of parodic dubbing by examining its origins and situating it in its current context. It also aims to investigate how this appropriation practice reflects the politics of audiovisual translation in general, and of dubbing in particular, revealing similarities and divergences with official dubbing practices. This is done drawing on examples from two different Spanish parodic dubbings from an iconic scene from Pulp Fiction (Tarantino 1994). Throughout this work, theoretical perspectives and notions through which parodic dubbing can be examined are presented, framing this phenomenon in the current discussion of fan practices and participatory culture, and drawing on theoretical perspectives and notions developed within Translation Studies and Media Studies.
2. Looking back: parodic dubbing as an old innovation
Parodic dubbing has also been referred to by translation scholars as ‘fundubbing’ (Chaume 2012; Jüngst 2013; Nord et al. 2015), while other denominations such as ‘mock dubbing’ (White 2014), ‘gag dubbing’, ‘dub comedy’ or even just ‘fake dubbing’ are also widespread. Other AVT modes highlighted by scholars could also be framed within parodic dubbing. This is the case with ‘free narration’, “where a comedian manipulates the translation for humoristic purposes and adds jokes or funny comments, either dubbed or voiced-over” (Chaume 2012: 3–4).
Instances of parodic dubbing can be found from the consolidation of sound film and post-synchronisation techniques, involving a variety of audiovisual genres and in a wide range of contexts, suggesting this is a well-established global phenomenon and not an innovation of the current times. Yet, as Chiaro (2018: 3) points out, humour (and therefore parody) seems to be most at home online. Current online media have become a most-suited ecosystem for the nurturing and development of parody in its various forms (see Chiaro 2018; Tryon 2008) and thus of parodic dubbing. Likewise, online appropriation practices embedded in what Jenkins (2006) has termed “convergence culture,” such as ‘mash-ups’ and ‘YouTube poop,’ may also feature examples of fundubbing. In the latter, “often-frenetic videos piece together found television footage into irreverent, often nonsensical works” (Burgess and Green 2009: 52) where “the audio is manipulated through quick cuts, changing speeds, and the introduction of alternative soundtracks” (Burgess and Green 2009: 53). The following is a brief historical overview of parodic dubbing, which far from being comprehensive, attempts to portray how fundubbing practices have materialised in different long-standing traditions, to illustrate their pervasiveness and understand its role in the current media ecology.
2.1 The German tradition
Jüngst (2013: 113) reminds us that although fundubs tend to be associated with the Internet and thus deemed a recent occurrence, Germany has been a stronghold of this type of dubbing for over 40 years. She puts the focus on the comic dubbing of short silence films, mostly of American origin, broadcast on children’s TV in Germany in the early 1970s, as well as on what has been termed ‘Schnodder-Synchro’ (which, following Jüngst (2013: 113), could be translated as cheeky dubbing and can be considered “fairly mild” fundubs). An example of the latter is the German dubbing of the British TV series The Persuaders! (Baker 1971), which “was highly successful in Germany, due to the fact that the dubbing included more jokes than the original version, often had more text and its register was far more informal” (Jüngst 2013: 113).
2.2 The US tradition
Woody Allen’s What’s up, Tiger Lily? (1966) is one of the most famous examples of parodic dubbing, erroneously deemed by some as “the first complete recontextualization of an entire film” (Carter 2011: 103). Quoted by many and analysed by some scholars delving into audiovisual translation (among others, Dwyer 2017, Fraser 2010, Nornes 2007), in What’s up, Tiger Lily? the Japanese spy film Kokusai himitsu keisatsu: Kagi no kagi (Senkichi Taniguchi 1965)is not only dubbed with a completely new and unrelated script written by Allen, but also heavily edited and re-montaged. Allen explains the ‘kidnapping’ the Japanese film undergoes at the beginning of this film:
So we took a Japanese film, made in Japan by Japanese actors and actresses. We bought it. And it’s a great film, beautiful colour, and there’s raping and looting and killing in it. And I took out all the soundtrack. I knocked out all their voices. And I wrote a comedy. And I got together with some actors and actresses, and we put our comedy in where they were formerly raping and looting, and the result is a movie where people are running around killing one another, and, you know, doing all those James Bondian things, but what’s coming out of their mouths is something wholly other. (Allen 1996: 04:33-05:09)
With the original MacGuffin shifted from that of a typical spy thriller to the search for the world's best egg salad recipe, led by secret agent Phil Moskowitz, references in Allen’s film are deeply embedded in US culture, in an attempt from producer Charles Joffe to find a successful formula given the poor reception of the original with English subtitles during test screenings (Fraser 2010: 27). While trying to please the crowd and resorting to “an endless series of gags founded on cultural stereotypes” (Fraser 2010: 28), this parody also relied “on the cultural enmity of elite American audiences toward dubbing [and] their association of cheap Japanese films with sloppy translation” (Nornes 2007: 194).
This type of parodic appropriation of existing audiovisual material was not alien to US viewers, who had been previously exposed to these practices in the syndicated series Fractured Flickers (1963). Hosted by Hans Conreid and produced by Jay Ward and Bill Scott, this half-hour comedy showed repurposed footage from silent movies by inserting a soundtrack with special effects and comic dialogue, often interpreted by actors in funny voices. Much like a shattered mirror, this series reflected a completely different picture of vintage silent films such as Blood and Sand (Arzner and Niblo 1922), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Worsley 1923), and silent series such as The Master Mystery (Grossman and King 1918).
2.3 The Spanish tradition
Spanish writer and playwright Enrique Jardiel Poncela had also experimented with silent films in this manner. Dating back to 1933, his Celuloides rancios (Rancid celluloids) provided a comic soundtrack and edited and re-montaged short silent films from the early era of silent cinema (from 1903 and 1904) (Moncho Aguirre 2000: 272), which had been relegated since the emergence of the talkies (Aguilar and Cabrerizo 2015: 92). Produced in Billancourt Parisian film studies and commissioned by Fox Movietone (Moncho Aguirre 2000: 273), the experiment was well received by Spanish audiences. Following this success, in 1940 two different parodic dubbings based this time on feature films were released, in a sort of race to claim this achievement first: Mauricio, una víctima del vicio (Mauricio, a victim of vice) from Jardiel Poncela, and Un bigote para dos (A moustache for two) from Miguel Mihura and Antonio de Lara. As Aguilar and Cabrerizo (2015: 92) explain, the former “cannibalised” the Spanish silent film La cortina verde (The green curtain) released in 1917 by Ricardo de Baños, whereas the latter involved transforming the Austrian sound film Unsterbliche Melodien (Heinz Paul 1935), which had been shown in Spanish cinemas only a few months earlier.
Although it is possible that the phenomenon of repurposing silent film footage for comic purposes was originally implemented in the United States, experts in the work of Jardiel Poncela (Gallud Jardiel 2016) attribute the creation of this ‘genre’ to him, considering his Celuloides Rancios to be the earliest example of parodic dubbing. Regardless of the origins of these practices, advancements in sound technology and Jardiel Poncela’s stay in Hollywood influenced similar re-creations in Spain, which can be deemed the predecessors of nowadays Internet fundubbing. In between, many works have challenged the authorship of audiovisual productions, using dubbing as a site of experimentation and innovation. Two specific examples are worth exploring to further characterise this phenomenon: the détournement undertaken by the Situationist International movement and anime parodic dubbing.
2.4 The French tradition
Wark (2009: 145–146) defines détournement as “diversion, a detour, a seduction, a plagiarism, an appropriation, even perhaps a hijacking,” and as “the integration of present or past artistic productions into a construction that surpasses them.” Advocated by the Situationists as a critical practice to question existing power structures, it was seen as “a powerful cultural weapon in the service of a real class struggle” (Debord 2006:online). Believing that détournement could attain its greatest effectiveness (and beauty) in the realm of cinema (Debord 2006:online), situationist filmmakers such as René Viénet directed and created detourned films like La dialectique peut-elle casser des briques? (1973) (Can Dialectics Break Bricks?) or Les Filles de Kamare (1974) (The Girls of Kamare). In the former, discussed in depth by Dwyer (2017: 79-105) as an example of what she terms “errant screen translation practices,” a Hong Kong martial arts film is appropriated (or mistranslated from Chinese into French) to criticise cultural hegemony, presented in the opening credits as “un toast aux exploités pour l'extermination des exploiteurs” [‘a toast to the exploited for the extermination of the exploiters’]. This and other detourned films are relevant to our understanding of the phenomenon of parodic dubbing inasmuch as they constitute “a sub-version – a wilful, playful mode of ‘non-translation,’ translation that is deliberately erroneous” (Dwyer 2017: 80).
2.5 From traditions to participatory culture
Technological developments and the “convergent media ecology” (Ito 2010: 10) we inhabit today promote the intersection of traditional media (film) and digital interactive media (e.g. YouTube and similar video sharing platforms), thus representing a fertile hotbed of parodic dubbing. Within this context, anime parodic dubbing sets up the stage to participatory modes of media engagement. Patten (2004: 32) dates the first fan-made comedy dubbing of an anime video to 1983, when Phil Foglio and Nick Pollotta revoiced an episode from the popular Japanese series Star Blazers to create the spoof You say Yamato. This was only the start of a very prolific practice, disseminated at the beginning amongst small groups of fans or in anime conventions. The subversive nature of this type of fandubbing is apparent in the work of Pinesalad Productions, creators of fundubbings such as How drugs won the war or Dirty pair does dishes, who describe themselves as “a group of Southern California anime fans [who] decided to turn their favorite Robotech characters into pimps, prostitutes, drug abusers and anything else they could think of” (Pinesalad Productions 2009: online). These forms of collaborative engagement with media and culture, which have increased in sophistication, have paved the way for the manifestations of participatory culture that are so prevalent nowadays. Indeed, although anime fandubbing can clearly be related to “geeking out” genres of participation, denoting “an intense commitment or engagement with media or technology” (Herr Stephenson et al. 2010: 65), it is easy to imagine those fans “hanging out” at first, establishing friendship-driven media engagement practices and “messing around” with technology and new media, as they became more involved (Herr Stephenson et al. 2010: 53).
Parodic dubbing is indeed an old innovation, yet one that has been once again shifted and modernised not only by the technology available to our culture, but as a result of what that culture has chosen to do with those tools. As Jenkins et al. (2006: 8) explain:
Some tasks may be easier with some technologies than with others, and thus the introduction of a new technology may inspire certain uses. Yet, these activities become widespread only if the culture also supports them, if they fill recurring needs at a particular historical juncture.
The manipulation of the original audio track in parodic dubbing has unquestionably been facilitated by technological developments, as revealed by the succinct historical overview provided above. The consolidation of sound film and post-synchronisation techniques endowed Spanish filmmakers in the 1930s and 1940s with powerful tools to satirise, experiment and entertain audiences, paving the way for the implementation of similar cinematic practices in the future, broadcast both in the big and small screen. Likewise, the developments and growing popularity of home video recording technology provided anime fans with the means to share content amongst themselves and to let their creativity run wild when engaging with anime content in the 1980s and 1990s. Video appropriation is easier than it has ever been in the current mediatic landscape, where any user can manipulate audiovisual content (adding subtitles or an audio track, for instance) with basic technical knowledge from a myriad of devices, including a mobile phone, and upload it online to share it with the rest of the world. Yet, while technology has served as inspiration and an enabling agent, cultures all over the world have nurtured parodic dubbing practices.
Albeit less sophisticated than Allen’s or Viénet’s creations, user-generated manifestations of parodic dubbing provide an insight into cultural appropriation, in many cases involving “subcultural poaching” (Nornes 2007: 194). Building on Michel de Certeau’s (1984) notion of “poaching” as active reading, Jenkins (1992: 223) considers fans as “poachers who get to keep what they take and use their plundered goods as the foundations for the construction of an alternative cultural community.” As such, fan-generated texts involve the transformation of “borrowed materials from mass culture into new texts” (Jenkins 1992: 223). Together with that of participatory culture, the notion of textual and cultural poaching is pertinent to the study of parodic dubbing in that it foregrounds the role of audiences as active consumers, or “prosumers” (Ritzer and Jurgenson 2010: 13), and in that it sustains the conception of instances of parodic dubbing both as examples of intercultural appropriation and as cultural artefacts in their own right.
3. Parodic dubbing of cult products: the case of Pulp Fiction
A quick search on YouTube or a similar video-sharing platform will reveal many audiovisual examples of such cultural borrowing, with some material being particularly prone to repurposing and parody. Whereas in the beginnings of parodic dubbing relinquished audiovisual texts (e.g. silent movies in the talkies era), often produced within cultures afar (e.g. a Japanese production in the case of What’s Up Tiger Lily or a Hong Kong film in the above-mentioned example of cinematic détournement), were particularly favoured by creators, prosumers involved in mock dubbing seem particularly allured by cult products. Drawing on Umberto Eco, Jenkins (2006: 323) emphasises how cult films “provide opportunities for fan exploration and mastery,” and many examples of such practices permeate the web nowadays. A clear case in point is Tarantino’s masterpiece Pulp Fiction (1994), in particular its popular car scene (from 00:07:23 to 00:09:44) where Vincent (John Travolta) talks to Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) about hash bars in Amsterdam and other cultural differences between Europe and the US.
Paradoxically, Tarantino’s script could in itself be deemed a parodic interpretation of cultural divergences between European and US cultures, with otherness being reduced to differences in drug and alcohol regulations, police control, and even in the naming of burgers. This scene has been re-enacted with spoofed dialogue written by scriptwriters, comedians and Internet users from different cultures1, as well as borrowed and transformed through dubbing, reinterpreting and further satirising foreignness. Regarding the former, one of the episodes from The Simpsons, entitled “22 short films about Springfield” (episode 21, season 7), features a parody of Pulp Fiction. References to the above-mentioned car scene are achieved through a very similar dialogue, this time discussing the differences between Krusty Burger’s and McDonald’s products, and the repetition of specific excerpts from the original dialogue. These, as well as the fact that the whole episode is a parody of Pulp Fiction, help the viewer to identify marks of intertextuality, as well as parodic links between the two audiovisual texts.
A similar process is followed by the Spanish Internet users who have appropriated this scene through parodic dubbing. Amongst these, two specific instances published on YouTube have been selected for illustrative purposes to enrich the discussion of parodic dubbing presented here, as summarised in Table 1 below. These can be classified as examples of political parodic dubbing, where John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson are given not only new voices, but new discourses denouncing the political situation in Spain. Clip 1 satirises the fragmented and uncertain political situation faced by Spain before the general election in December 2015, while clip 2 condemns the patriotic values reinforced by the Spanish government after Catalonia’s pro-independence leaders organised a referendum and declared independence in October 2017. References to these examples will support the discussion in the following section, where the relationship between parodic dubbing, translation and subversion is further investigated.
|
Clip 1 |
Clip 2 |
YouTube URL |
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYxDmP9fqdw: |
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTc0s8LYUN8 |
Author |
Korah (Carles Caparrós) |
Moi Camacho |
Date of publication |
17/12/2015 |
17/10/2017 |
Focus of new dialogue |
Spanish elections |
Patriotism in Spain |
Quality |
Nearly professional |
Amateur |
Dubbing actors/voices |
Same dubbing actor for both, impersonating different voices |
Same dubbing actor for both, impersonating different voices |
Views |
865,864 views (consulted 26.11.2018) |
55,933 views (consulted 26.11.2018) |
Table 1. Overview of two Spanish parodic dubbings of Pulp Fiction.
3.1. Parodic dubbing, translation and subversion: the Spanish parodic dubbing of Pulp Fiction
Parodic dubbing cannot be considered translation proper, but it can reveal very interesting aspects of the politics of audiovisual translation, show how dubbing conventions are being transgressed, as well as exemplify new forms of audiovisual content creation that characterise the current era. In this sense, probing parodic dubbing draws the attention to shifts in media consumption and translation. At the same time, some notions posited by translation scholars and researchers delving into AVT can help to further contextualise this phenomenon.
Studying parodic dubbing in terms of rewriting, following Bassnett and Lefevere (1990), can improve our understanding of this phenomenon and its motivations, which are often both ideological and poetological (Lefevere 1992: 4). Parodic dubbing can indeed be probed as a rewriting of the original audiovisual text, in which the original images are preserved, while dialogue is manipulated to either challenge or fit in with the dominant poetics and ideology of a given place and time. The above-mentioned political parodic dubbings of Pulp Fiction’s scene in Spanish entail rebelling against the dominant ideology, with netizens using dubbing as a form of protest against the government and the current political situation in Spain. In this same vein, parodic dubbing could be studied within a culturally oriented approach to forms of rewriting, where cultural parody, as well as textual and cultural poaching, challenge traditional notions of equivalence, fidelity and authorship.
3.1.1 Political parodic dubbing: cultural appropriation and ideological manipulation
As shown in Example 1, clip 1 ridicules the six main political parties, simplifying their political agendas and ideology. Instead of naming them, Vincent refers to colours, alluding to the branding used by each of these political parties in Spain: blue for the right-wing Partido Popular; orange for the also conservative Ciudadanos, which present themselves as an alternative to Partido Popular; red for the socialist party Partido Socialista Obrero Español; purple for Podemos, a left-wing party founded in 2014 after a series of protests against inequality and corruption called 15-M; and green for Izquierda Unida, a left-wing political coalition.
Original dialogue |
Official dubbed version |
Clip 1 – Parodic dubbing |
Back translation |
VINCENT: Well, in Amsterdam, you can buy beer in a movie theatre. And I don't mean in a paper cup either. They give you a glass of beer, like in a bar. In Paris, you can buy beer at McDonald's. Also, you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris? JULES: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese? VINCENT: Royale with Cheese. |
VINCENT: Pues puedes meterte en cualquier cine de Ámsterdam y tomarte una cerveza. Y no hablo de una cerveza en un vaso de papel, hablo de una jarra de cerveza. Y en París puedes pedir cerveza en el McDonald's. ¿Y sabes cómo llaman al cuarto de libra con queso en París? JULES: ¿No lo llaman cuarto de libra con queso? JULES: ¿Pues cómo lo llaman? |
VINCENT: ¿Sabes qué es lo peor de todo, tío? Es que lo tienen fatal. Mira: los rojos dicen que saben cómo solucionar el tema de la crisis, pero cuando estuvieron en el poder, lo empeoraron todo, tío. Los azules, los de ahora, sus fundadores fueron ministros de Franco. JULES: ¿Quién cojones es Franco? VINCENT: El lateral izquierdo del Real Madrid, ¡no te jode! Franco, ¡el dictador! JULES: ¡Ah, Franco! VINCENT: ¡Joder! ¿Puedo seguir? Gracias. Vale. Mira, luego tenemos a los naranjas y a los morados. Estos dicen exactamente lo mismo que los azules y los rojos, pero te meten un "tío", un "colega", un "hashtag". No-no te creas que suena igual, tío, saben cómo hacerlo. Luego, los naranjas: nadie sabe qué son, pero son amigos de los azules. Los morados empezaron de puta madre, tío, pero a la hora de la verdad, se han cagao en los pantalones. "No, si cuando decíamos esto queríamos decir aquello" y mierdas así. |
VINCENT: Do you know what’s the worst thing of all, man? Well, it’s looking dim. Look: the red ones say they know how to solve the issue of the crisis, but when they were in power they made everything worse, man. The blue ones, in power now, their founders were ministers in Franco’s regime. JULES: Who the fuck is Franco? VINCENT: Real Madrid’s left-back, for fuck’s sake! Franco, the dictator! JULES: Oh, Franco! VINCENT: For fuck’s sake! Can I go on? Thanks! Okay, look: then there’s the orange and the purple ones. They both say exactly the same thing as the blue and the red ones, but they throw in a “man,” a “buddy,” a “hashtag.” And don’t-don’t you dare to think it sounds the same, man, they know how to do it. Then, the orange ones: no one knows what they are, but they’re friends with the blue ones. The purple ones had a fucking great start, man, but when it came to the crunch, they’ve shitted their pants. “No, when we said this we really meant that,” and all that shit. |
Example 1. Simplification of Spanish political parties’ agendas and ideology in Pulp Fiction’s Spanish parodic dubbing.
The new script written by the creator of this clip, who is not only a ‘YouTuber’ but also a dubbing actor, reveals how, despite not being translations in the strictest sense, fundubbings “are extremely attuned to the original text while embedding it in a complex network of current events and popular culture” (Nornes 2007: 196). The fragment above shows how dialogue is adapted to the Spanish culture by inserting political references to the different parties and to the financial crisis, and satirises on the importance of football in this culture, confronting Real Madrid’s left-back to a historical figure like Franco, and perhaps even suggesting that some citizens might be more familiar with the former than with the latter. The new script is also modernised and attuned to the sub-culture targeted by this parodic dubbing (Internet users watching YouTube), by using an extremely colloquial (and at times vulgar) register and Internet jargon (e.g. hashtag). The result is a mismatch, a cultural clash between dialogue and image, which far from putting viewers off, reinforces the incongruity and therefore the comicality of the final product. As regards this tension created between the acoustic and visual channels, in misrepresenting the Other, this and other examples of parodic dubbing underscore the Otherness of the image. As Fraser (2010: 20) notes in the case of What’s Up Tiger Lily:
What is designed to come across as incompetent dubbing and injurious representation of the Other is in reality a most sophisticated and competent adaptational effort forcing the spectator outside of the film’s discourse, to a remove where all negative intercultural representations, as well as the tensions they create, resolve to their most positive end in laughter.
Like Fraser above, Dwyer (2017: 89) adopts a more positive stance in the scrutiny of phenomena like parodic dubbing, arguing that “screen translation makes palpable the violent power of language — its will to co-opt, falsify and tyrannise, yet also its capacity to subvert and resist.” Not only does parodic dubbing make evident the power of language and sheds light into relationships of power outside audiovisual texts, but also within. In this fundub, the visual component of the source text, as envisaged by Tarantino, is married with a new script, with visual and acoustic components establishing a relationship seen by some authors as unequal. For instance, following Chion (1999), Fraser (2010: 31) argues that the new voice given to the visual information in parodic dubbing establishes a relationship of power and possession with the image, assuming control over it.
In order to integrate this new and subversive voice, the author of the clip has edited the original and inserted previous footage from the same scene, as the conversation of the parodic dubbing is longer than the original. This reveals that the ideological manipulation occurring in parodic dubbing affects both acoustic and visual components of the audiovisual source text. Ideological manipulation is here understood in the terms posited by Díaz-Cintas (2012: 285), “as the incorporation in the target text of any change (including deletions and additions) that deliberately departs from what is said (or shown) in the original.” In this case, both dialogue and footage are added to depart deliberately from the original scene. The manipulative practice of adding footage is widespread in parodic dubbing, but used scantly in professional audiovisual translation, where it is often limited to videogames, animation (see Battersby 2015) or to audiovisual texts of a lower status (i.e. reality TV), where the attribution of authorship is less straight forward. In line with new forms of text production and with the co-creational and collective nature of participatory culture, and as blatantly unauthorised versions, parodic dubbings question traditional interpretations of authorship and of what is deemed an ‘original text.’
3.1.2 Political parodic dubbing: traditions being questioned and irreverent satire on censorship
Likewise, parodic dubbing questions the notion of fidelity, not only in its more traditional sense, but also when conceived in deconstructionist terms as violent or abusive fidelity (Derrida 1979; Lewis 1985[2000]). These notions do not seem to suffice to understand this phenomenon and its complexity and, as Dwyer (2017: 121) argues, are “unable to engage with such everyday, pervasive forms of manipulation and misuse” like fundubbing or overtly censored subtitles. Could we speak of parodic dubbing as abusive in the same way as Nornes (2007) refers to fansubbing as abusive subtitling? Inasmuch as parodic dubbing goes against professional dubbing and defies conventions, it has the potential to be abusive; yet, some examples of parodic dubbing are closer to what Nornes calls “adaptive dubbing” (2007: 193), as they could be understood as an extreme form of domestication. This is clearly seen in Example 2, where the parodic dubbing script could be deemed a domesticating translation of the original (substituting Holland with Spain and the habit of eating fries with mayonnaise with that of eating snails).
Original dialogue |
Official dubbed version |
Clip 1 – Parodic dubbing |
Back translation |
VINCENT: |
VINCENT: VINCENT: Les vi hacerlo, macho. Las bañan en esa mierda. |
VINCENT: ¿Sabes lo que comen en vez de tacos y hamburguesas? JULES: ¿Qué? JULES: ¡Joder! |
VINCENT: JULES: What? |
Example 2. Parodic dubbing as an overly domesticating translation?
The previous example illustrates that the notion of fidelity takes a different dimension in parodic dubbing and, paradoxically, even questions the assumption that fundubbing cannot be regarded as translation proper. In addition, while it could be argued that parodic dubbing scripts are ‘faithful’ or coherent only to the visual information conveyed by the ‘original’ audiovisual text and not to the original soundtrack, in some cases it could also be argued that the official dubbing version is the one acting as the ‘original.’ This is equally interesting inasmuch as translations, often deemed derivative and secondary products, establish themselves as originals. This is certainly the case with the script created for clip 2, which stays close to the official dubbing version, sometimes changing its meaning radically by only modifying a few words (los polis tienen ese derecho> los polis no tienen ese derecho; yo me voy allí > yo me largo de allí), as illustrated in Example 3, where similarities have been underlined.
Original dialogue |
Official dubbed version |
Clip 2 – Parodic dubbing |
Back translation |
VINCENT: […] If the cops stop you, it's illegal for them to search you. Searching you is a right that the cops in Amsterdam don't have. JULES: That did it, man – I'm fuckin' goin', that's all there is to it. VINCENT: You'll dig it the most. But you know what the funniest thing about Europe is? JULES: What? JULES: Example? |
VINCENT: […] Si te detiene un poli en Ámsterdam es ilegal que pretenda cachearte. En Ámsterdam los polis no tienen ese derecho. JULES: Joder, macho, yo me voy allí sin dudarlo, ¡joder que si me voy! VINCENT: ¡Lo sé, tío! Eso sí te molaría. / Pero, ¿sabes lo más curioso de Europa? JULES: ¿Qué? JULES: ¿Por ejemplo? |
VINCENT: […] Si tú haces un chiste de Carrero Blanco, entonces sí te pueden detener. En Francolandia los polis tienen ese derecho, tío.
JULES: Joder, macho, yo me largo de allí sin dudarlo, ¡joder que si me voy! VINCENT: ¡Lo sé, tío! Lo llaman "ley mordaza" / Pero, ¿sabes que es lo más curioso de Francolandia? JULES: ¿Qué? JULES: ¿Por ejemplo? |
VINCENT: […] If you joke about Carrero Blanco, you can be detained. In Francoland the cops have that right, man. JULES: Fuck, man, I’m leaving there, that’s for sure. Fuck, I am! VINCENT: I know, man! They call it "gag law" / But, you know what’s the funniest thing about Francoland? JULES: What?
JULES: For example? |
Example 3. Spanish parodic dubbing script based on the official dubbed version.
In addition to highlighting its resemblance with the official dubbed version, this example underscores the use of parodic dubbing as a form of subversion and a political act. Clip 2 was published on YouTube in November 2017, at a time when freedom of expression in Spain was being severely questioned, with Spanish netizens and artists having been sentenced to prison for tweeting terrorism-related jokes (Jones 2017) under a Spanish anti-terror law (Article 578 of the Spanish Criminal Code), and with the implementation of the so-called ‘gag-law’ (ley mordaza; Spanish Public Security Law, enacted in 2015), which are precisely mentioned and satirised in the excerpt shown above.
This type of fandubbing foregrounds a “deliberately interventionist approach to audiovisual translation that seeks to undermine the profit-ridden agenda of the industry’s establishment” (Pérez-González 2015: 58), which can also be condemned by the establishment. Indeed, while writing this paper, a YouTuber was reported by a local administration of the Popular Party for adding parodic subtitles to a scene from the German film Der Untergang (Hirschbiegel 2004) satirising members of this party governing in Tomelloso and allegedly comparing them with nazi officials (Jiménez 2018). Likewise, combined with new technological developments, such a resource could be used by the establishment itself to manipulate news footage, as reported recently by Solon (2017).
3.1.3. Political parodic dubbing: transgressing dubbing conventions
The practice of fundubbing also rebels against the dominant poetics, challenging dubbing conventions governing official dubbing practices. Chaume (2012: 15–20) suggests the following broad areas determining the set of dubbing standards to be complied with in dubbing: credible and realistic dialogue lines, coherence between images and words, a loyal translation, acceptable lip-synch, clear sound quality, and appropriate acting. As discussed above, parodic dubbing cannot be probed in terms of fidelity as it is usually understood in Translation Studies. Conventions in the last three areas, related to technical aspects, are often transgressed in parodic dubbings done by fans or non-experts. Clip 2, for example, is of poor technical quality in terms of sound and acting, and disregards synchronisation, with the dialogue only very roughly matching the lip movements of the characters on screen. Unlike clip 2, clip 1 complies with synchronisation norms and provides a more polished product from a technical point of view as its creator, Carles Caparrós, is a dubbing actor and YouTuber, using the pseudonym of Korah. Thus, the quality of parodic dubbing done by fans or non-experts can vary greatly, to the extent of making us question if fandubbing or non-expert dubbing is the most appropriate label for these practices, as the dubbing may not be done by fans or non-experts (see Baños forthcoming).
As for the first two dubbing standards mentioned by Chaume, both the creation of credible and realistic dialogue and the coherence between image and sound are a priority in parodic dubbing, to the point of exaggeration at times. The limited studies available on fandubbing (Izwaini 2014; Nord et al. 2015; Wang and Zhang 2016) have highlighted how non-experts transgress dubbing conventions by resorting to dialects, slang, swear words and overly colloquial register, which are not considered appropriate in professional dubbing. As a result, the mismatch between voice and image is intensified. As shown in example 4, this is done in clip 1 through the use of extremely local expressions (la peña ‘people’), plenty of swear words (joder ‘fuck’; puto/a ‘fucking’) and devices typical of Spanish colloquial spontaneous conversation, such as the use of exaggerated comparisons (es como pagar a un albañil para que te haga una reforma sin que te explique lo que te va a hacer, ‘it's like paying a builder for a refurbishment without them explaining what work they’re going to do’).
Original dialogue |
Clip 1 – Parodic dubbing |
Back translation |
VINCENT: Yeah, it breaks down like this: it's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it and, if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's legal to carry it, which doesn't really matter 'cause – get a load of this – if the cops stop you, it's illegal for them to search you. Searching you is a right that the cops in Amsterdam don't have. JULES: That did it, man – I'm fuckin' goin', that's all there is to it. |
VINCENT: ¡Joder, tío! Tienen cinco putos partidos a los que votar: los azules, los rojos, los naranjas, los morados y los verdes. Y le preguntas a la peña y nadie tiene ni puta idea de a quién votar. El tema es el siguiente, mira: acaban votando, pero en realidad, nadie tiene ni puta idea de lo que dice el programa electoral del partido. JULES: Joder, eso es como pagar a un albañil para que te haga una reforma sin que te explique lo que te va a hacer. |
VINCENT: Fuck, man! They have five fucking parties to vote for: blue, red, orange, purple and green. And when you ask around no one has a fucking clue of who they are going to vote for. This is the thing, look: they vote for a party in the end, but in fact they have no fucking clue of what their manifesto says. JULES: For fuck’s sake, that’s like paying a builder for a refurbishment without them explaining what work they’re going to do. |
Example 4. Transgression of dubbing conventions in Pulp Fiction’s parodic dubbing: overly-credible dialogues.
The resulting dialogue sounds extremely natural, yet too credible and realistic if compared to the language of official dubbings, which tends to be conventional, artificial and standardised (Baños 2014: 84), and where there is no room for spontaneous phenomena like relaxed phonetic articulation (illustrated in example 1: cagao en los pantalones instead of cagado en los pantalones). Even when complying with dubbing quality standards, by taking these to the extreme, parodic dubbing transgresses and questions existing norms. Whether this could have an impact on official non-parodic dubbing, as suggested by Wang and Zhang (2016: 184-188) in the case of Chinese, it is still to be seen. Dubbing conventions are still deeply ingrained, especially in countries with a strong dubbing tradition like Italy, Germany or Spain. In addition, these features are not as abundant in clip 2 which, taking the official dubbed version as a model, seems to imitate dubbese, or the register of dubbing, with a conversation that sounds like a dubbed production.
4. Concluding remarks
Parodic dubbing has been presented in this paper as an old innovation. Its essence rooted in parody as a narrative device born out of literature and theatre, it has organically been shifted and modernised by technological developments and by the needs of different cultures at different times in history. The examples analysed in this paper have shown how Spanish Internet users ‘mess around’ with technology, new media and foreign cult products, and how they subvert them to criticise the current political situation. Dubbing is used by these communities as a critical tool to question existing power structures, thus becoming a form of digital détournement. Yet their purpose is not only of a political and ideological nature: users are eager to share their creations with like-minded users and, ultimately, to make them laugh. Albeit deemed by some as non-originals, as examples of plagiarism, hijacking and even cannibalism, these creations are rewritings and cultural artefacts in their own right, which deserve further study and recognition as influential media products.
By investigating the relationship between parodic dubbing, translation and subversion, it has become patent that fundubbing and other forms of appropriation and cultural borrowing in the digital era challenge our traditional understanding of notions such as originality, authorship and fidelity, and reveal how target texts in parodic dubbing can find inspiration in a wide range of sources, taking them as source texts on occasion. This further destabilises our understanding of what is a translation and what is an original. In addition, the cultural mismatch and the power frictions (both within and outside the audiovisual text) resulting from parodic dubbing activities shed light into the politics of audiovisual translation in general, and of dubbing in particular. The examples provided throughout have revealed interesting similarities and divergences between official dubbing and parodic dubbing practices: the former is deemed covertly duplicitous while the latter is regarded as overtly fake; domestication is prevalent in both, yet exaggerated to the extreme in the latter; and whereas the dialogue in official dubbed programmes has been defined as straight-jacketed (Romero-Fresco 2009: 44), creativity can break loose in parodic dubbing.
Parodic dubbing has been framed in the current discussion of fan practices and participatory culture, with a focus on user-generated manifestations as examples of cultural poaching. Yet, this paper has also shown that parodic dubbing can also be used as a site of experimentation and innovation, and even as an ideological tool, by companies, media producers, film directors and political movements. For its long-standing tradition of stimulating creativity and rebellion, as much as for its flexible adaptability to new tools and sensitivities of the time, the analysis of parodic dubbing should be further explored, as should the growth of fundubbing as a political device to express discontent.
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Filmography
Biography
Rocío Baños is Associate Professor in Translation at the Centre for Translation Studies at University College London, where she teaches Audiovisual Translation and Translation Technology. She holds a PhD on dubbing from the University of Granada. Her main research interests lie in the fields of Audiovisual Translation, Translation Technology and Translation Training. She has published various papers in these areas. Her latest research has focused on ‘lesser forms’ of audiovisual translation, in particular on the voice-over translation of reality TV, fandubbing and fundubbing.
E-mail: r.banos@ucl.ac.uk
Notes
In 2012, Spanish comedians Andreu Buenafuente and Berto Romero filmed a parody of this scene (available at the time of writing from PULP FICTION - Parodia), broadcast in the late night show Buenas noches y Buenafuente (Antena 3 2012). In the car, Romero and Buenafuente engage in a politically incorrect conversation on how burgers are called in Africa. Similarly, in 2016 one of the McDonald’s restaurants in Hannover (Germany), decided to shoot a parodic video (available at the time of writing from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJF3w7ezBs8&t) advertising an event to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the ‘Quarter Pounder,’ and explaining that in Germany it was called ‘Hamburger Royal’ instead. Return to this point in the text