Translation, Humour and The Media Translation and Humour Volume 2 (Continuum Advances in Translation) (Chiaro, Delia Antonini, Rachele Bucaria Etc.) (Z-Library)

Translation, Humour and the Media
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd i 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

Continuum Advances in Translation Studies
Series Editor: Jeremy Munday is a Senior Lecturer at the School of Modern
Languages and Cultures, University of Leeds, UK.
Continuum Advances in Translation Studies publishes cutting-edge research

in the fields of translation studies. This field has grown in importance in
the modern, globalized world, with international translation between
languages a daily occurrence. Research into the practices, processes and
theory of translation is essential and this series aims to showcase the best
in international academic and professional output.
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd ii 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

Translation, Humour
and the Media
Translation and Humour
Volume 2
Edited by
Delia Chiaro
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd iii 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

Continuum International Publishing Group
The Tower Building 80 Maiden Lane
11 York Road Suite 704
London SE1 7NX New York, NY 10038
www.continuumbooks.com
© Delia Chiaro and contributors 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or
any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the
publishers.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4411-3788-3 (hardcover)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
Typeset by Newgen Imaging Systems Pvt Ltd, Chennai, India

Printed and bound in Great Britain by the MPG Books Group
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd iv 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

Contents
List of Illustrations vii

Series Preface ix
Notes on Contributors xi
Acknowledgements xvii
Translating Humour in the Media 1

Delia Chiaro
1. That’s Not Funny Here: Humorous Advertising Across Boundaries 17
Charles S. Gulas and Marc G. Weinberger
2. Humour in Translated Cartoons and Comics 34
Federico Zanettin
3. And the Oscar Goes to . . . : A Study of the Simultaneous
Interpretation of Humour at the Academy Awards Ceremony 53
Rachele Antonini
4. Japanese TV Entertainment: Framing Humour with Open
Caption Telop 70
Minako O’Hagan
5. The Importance of Not being Earnest: Translating Humour in
Video Games 89
Carmen Mangiron
6. Translating Audiovisual Humour: A Hong Kong Case Study 108
Yau Wai-Ping
7. Audiences and Translated Humour: An Empirical Study 121
Linda Rossato and Delia Chiaro
8. Language-play, Translation and Quality – with Examples from
Dubbing and Subtitling 138
Thorsten Schröter
9. Woody Allen’s Themes through his Films, and his Films through
their Translations 153
Patrick Zabalbeascoa
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vi Contents
10. On the (Mis/Over/Under)Translation of the Marx

Brothers’ Humour 175
Adrián Fuentes Luque
11. Language, Comedy and Translation in the BBC Sitcom ’Allo ’Allo! 193
Dirk Delabastita
12. Laughing to Death: Dubbed and Subtitled Humour in Six Feet Under 222
Chiara Bucaria
13. Dynamic versus Static Discourse: Will & Grace and its Spanish
Dubbed Version 238
Roberto A. Valdeón
Index 251
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List of Illustrations
Figures
Figure 1.1 Absolut ad, Teran/TBWA, Mexico City 2008 25

Figure 1.2 Context dependent humour, M&C Saatchi, London 1996.
The attempted visual humour in this Silk Cut ad would be
lost on those without the needed context of earlier Silk
Cut campaigns 29
Figure 1.3 Australian Tourism Ad, M&C Saatchi, Sydney 2006 30
Figure 1.4 Widely understood humour, McCann Erickson, New York
1994. The visual humour in this Smirnoff ad works because
the playful incongruity uses a context that has widely held
meaning across many borders 31
Figure 2.1 P. S. Mueller (1989), Playing fast and loose with
time and space, p. 3 41
Figure 2.2 Chappatte, International Herald Tribune, 1 December 2008 42
Figure 2.3 Max Cannon, Red Meat, 15 February 1999 43
Figure 2.4 Gary Trudeau, Doonesbury, 6 November 2008 44
Figure 4.1 Exact rendering of the contestant’s remark. (Fuji TV 2007) 80
Figure 4.5 The pictures inserted based on a third-party comment on
the appearance of the contestant. (Fuji TV 2007) 82
Figure 4.6 Narrator commentary. (Fuji TV 2007) 83
Figure 4.7 Summary of narrator comment. (Fuji TV 2007) 83
Figure 4.8 Explaining the rule of the game. (Fuji TV 2007) 84
Figure 4.9 The whole scene filled by a telop subtitle. (Fuji TV 2007) 84
Tables
Table 3.1 Most appreciated clips 61

Table 3.2 Least appreciated clips 62
Table 3.3 Means related to the understanding and appreciation of
individual clips 65
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viii List of Illustrations
Table 4.1 Taxonomy of Open Caption Telop used to enhance

entertainment value in Japanese TV programmes
(Translated and adapted from Kimura et al. 2000) 76
Table 5.1 SL VEH replaced by new VEH in TL preserving partial
meaning in FFX-II (Square-Enix 2004) 99
Table 5.2 Preservation and intensification of SL VEH in TL in FFX-II
(Square-Enix 2004) 100
Table 5.3 Introduction of new play-on-words in TL in FFX
(Square 2001) 101
Table 5.4 Introduction of irony in TL in FFX (Square 2001) 102
Table 5.5 Introduction of idioms and rhymes in TL in FFX
(Square 2001) 103
Table 6.1 Dialogue excerpt from The Simpsons Movie 111
Table 6.2 Dialogue excerpt from Borat: Cultural Learnings of America
for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan 117
Table 7.1 Italian translation (dub) of Reiner’s attempt to emulate
the language of the ex-GDR 132
Table 11.1 Survey of linguistic configurations in ’Allo ’Allo 197
Table 11.2 Linguistic incongruities in ’Allo ’Allo 208
Table 11.3 ’Allo ’Allo subtitled in Dutch 212
Table 11.4 ’Allo ’Allo dubbed in French 216
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Series Preface
The aim of this new series is to provide an outlet for advanced research
in the broad interdisciplinary field of translation studies. Consisting of
monographs and edited themed collections of the latest work, it should be
of particular interest to academics and postgraduate students researching
in translation studies and related fields, but also to advanced students
studying translation and interpreting modules.
Translation studies has enjoyed huge international growth over recent
decades in tandem with the expansion in both the practice of translation
globally and in related academic programmes. The understanding of the
concept of translation itself has broadened to include not only interlingual
but also various forms of intralingual translation. Specialized branches or
sub-disciplines have developed for the study of interpreting, audiovisual
translation and sign language, among others. Translation studies has also
come to embrace a wide range of types of intercultural encounter and
transfer, interfacing with disciplines as varied as applied linguistics, com-
parative literature, computational linguistics, creative writing, cultural
studies, gender studies, philosophy, postcolonial studies, sociology, and so
on. Each provides a different and valid perspective on translation, and each
has its place in this series.
This is an exciting time for translation studies, and the new Continuum
Advances in Translation Studies series promises to be an important new plank
in the development of the discipline. As General Editor, I look forward
to overseeing the publication of important new work that will provide
insights into all aspects of the field.
Jeremy Munday
General Editor
University of Leeds, UK
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd ix 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

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Notes on Contributors
Delia Chiaro is Professor of English Language and Translation at the

University of Bologna’s Advanced School in Modern Languages for Inter-
preters and Translators and Chair of the Department of Interdisciplinary
Studies in Translation, Languages and Culture. Since publishing The Lan-
guage of Jokes: Analysing Verbal Play in 1992 (London, Routledge) she has
combined her interest in verbally expressed humour with her passion
for cinema by examining what occurs when verbal humour in English is
transformed into dubbed or subtitled filmic products. As well as consider-
ing the transformations which cinematic dialogues undergo, she is a keen
observer of audience perception to the translated humour and applies meth-
odologies taken from the social sciences to the field of Translation Stud-
ies to examine recipients’ reactions. Her publications include Humor in
Interaction, co-edited with Neal Norrick (John Benjamins, 2009), a chapter
on humour and translation in the Primer in Humor Studies (Victor Raskin
(ed.), Mouton De Gruyter, 2008) and a chapter in Reading ‘Little Britain’
(I.B. Taurus, 2010).
As well as being the author of numerous publications, she has been
invited to lecture across Europe, in Asia and New Zealand.
Rachele Antonini is a lecturer in English Language and Translation at the

Department of Studies on Translation, Languages and Cultures of the
Advanced School for Interpreting and Translation, University of Bologna
in Forlì, Italy. Her research interests focus on the sociolinguistics of Irish
Gaelic (with Li Wei and Karen Corrigan ‘The Irish language in the Republic
of Ireland and in Northern Ireland’. In U. Ammon, K. J. Mattheier and
P. Nelde (eds), Language Policy and Small Languages, Special Issue Sociolin-
guistica: International Yearbook of European Sociolinguistics. Tübingen: Max
Niemeyer Verlag, 118–28, 2002), the perception of dubbing and subtitled
humour (‘The perception of subtitled humour in Italy: An empirical study’.
In Delia Chiaro (ed.) Humor, Special Edition Humor and Translation, 18, 2,
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xii Notes on Contributors
Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 209–25, 2005; ‘SAT, BLT, Spirit Biscuits, and the
Third Amendment: What Italians make of the cultural references contained
in dubbed texts’. In Yves Gambier, Miriam Shlesinger and Radegundis
Stolze (eds), Doubts and Directions in Translation Studies: Selected Contributions
from the EST Congress, Lisbon 2004. 153–167, 2007), the teaching of oral
language mediation (‘Training the future mediators how (not to) take sides
in language mediation’. In Garzone, G. e Catenaccio, P. (eds), Language
and Bias in Specialized Discourse, Milano: CUEM, 245–57, 2008), child lan-
guage brokering (Antonini (ed.) Child Language Brokering: An Overview
of Patterns and Trends in Current Research, Special issue of MediAzioni,
Forthcoming). The use of research methodologies borrowed and adapted
from the Social Sciences and particularly from sociolinguistics (question-
naires and interviews) is the common denominator of all her research
activities. The results of her studies in these research fields have been pre-
sented and discussed at various international conferences. She has been
working as a freelance interpreter, translator and subtitler for the past
18 years. Since 2003 she has been teaching English, linguistic mediation,
liaison interpreting and simultaneous interpreting at university under-
graduate and postgraduate level, as well as teaching English language
modules in screen writing courses funded by the European Social Fund.
Chiara Bucaria graduated in translation from the Advanced School of

Modern Languages for Interpreters and Translators of the University
of Bologna, Italy, from which she also received her Ph.D. in translation
and cultural studies. She was awarded a Master’s degree in English from
Youngstown State University (USA) and in 2006 was the recipient of the
International Society for Humor Studies’ (ISHS) Graduate Student Award.
Chiara Bucaria currently holds a postdoctoral research fellowship at the
Department of Interdisciplinary Studies in Translation, Languages and Cul-
tures (University of Bologna) investigating the impact of censorship and
manipulation in translated TV programmes. Her main research interests
include humour studies, audiovisual translation, child language brokering
and the relationship between censorship and translation.
Dirk Delabastita is professor of English literature and literary theory at

the FUNDP Namur (University of Namur). He wrote his Ph.D. on Shake-
speare’s wordplay in Hamlet and the problems of translating it (There’s a
Double Tongue, 1990, published in 1993). He edited two further volumes
on the translation of wordplay: Wordplay and Translation (1996, special issue
of The Translator) and Traductio. Essays on Punning and Translation (1997).
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Notes on Contributors xiii
Dirk Delabastita also co-authored a Dutch-language dictionary of literary

terms (Lexicon van Literaire Termen, with Hendrik van Gorp and Rita
Ghesquiere, seventh edition, 2007), which has been translated into French
(Dictionnaire des termes littéraires, 2001) and of which an online edition is
being planned for 2012. His other books include European Shakespeares
(edited with Lieven D’hulst, 1993), Fictionalizing Translation and Multi-
lingualism (special issue of Linguistica Antverpiensia, edited with Rainier
Grutman, 2005) and Shakespeare and European Politics (edited with Jozef de
Vos and Paul Franssen, 2008). He is one of the series editors of Approaches
to Translation Studies (Rodopi), is involved in the CETRA Translation Stud-
ies PhD School at K. U. Leuven, Belgium, and belongs to the editorial board
of The Translator. His main research interests include literary studies and
its interface with linguistics and translation studies; narratology; wordplay,
ambiguity and verbal humour; the translation and international reception
of Shakespeare.
Adrián Fuentes Luque is Senior Lecturer at the Universidad Pablo Olavide

in Seville, Spain. He is also a professional translator, having served as
Senior Translator at the Australian Embassy in Spain, and taught at the
universities of Cádiz and Granada (Spain) and Portsmouth (UK). His
research areas include audiovisual translation, reception (having published
the first empirical study on reception of audiovisual translated material),
translation of humour and the translation of advertising and tourist texts.
He is the editor of La traducción en el sector turístico (2005, Atrio), the first
monograph on translation in the tourist sector.
Charles S. Gulas is an associate professor of marketing at Wright State

University in Dayton, Ohio USA. He earned his Ph.D. at the University
of Massachusetts, Amherst, USA. He is the co-author of Humor in Advertis-
ing: A Comprehensive Analysis published by M.E. Sharpe and has published
articles in the Journal of Advertising, Journal of Current Issues and Research in
Advertising and many other business publications. He is a former comedy
club owner.
Carmen Mangiron is a lecturer in Spanish, Japanese and Translation

in the School of Applied Languages and Intercultural Studies and a
member of the Centre for Translation and Textual Studies at Dublin
City University, Ireland. She also teaches game localization at postgra-
duate level in several Spanish universities and has extensive experience
as a translator, specializing in software and games localization. Her
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xiv Notes on Contributors
research interests include literary translation, game localization and media

accessibility.
Minako O’Hagan, Ph.D., is a Senior Lecturer at Dublin City University,

Ireland, affiliated with the Centre for Translation and Textual Studies
(CTTS). She has been involved in interdisciplinary cutting-edge translation
research with a main interest in emerging practices of translation. Her
earlier publications include The Coming Industry of Teletranslation (O’Hagan
1996) and Translation-mediated Communication in a Digital World: Facing the
Challenges of Globalization and Localization (O’Hagan & Ashworth 2002).
She has been an investigator on a number of externally and internally
funded research projects, ranging from a feasibility study on Machine
Translation for subtitling to a study of fan translation of Japanese anime
and manga. More recently her focus in research has been in the area of
translation for interactive multimedia products such as video games,
combined with user studies of social media technologies.
Linda Rossato was awarded a Master’s degree in Screen Translation from

the University of Bologna and a Ph.d. in English for Special Purposes from
the University of Naples Federico II. As well as audiovisual translation, her
research interests include the translation of televised food culture and child
language brokering.
Thorsten Schröter was born in Germany and moved to Sweden in his

mid-20s. He did his undergraduate studies within the teacher education
programme in French and English at Karlstad University, Sweden, and got
his Bachelor’s degree in 1999. He subsequently took up doctoral studies in
English linguistics with interspersed teaching and some translation work.
His Ph.D. thesis Shun the Pun, Rescue the Rhyme? The Dubbing and Subtitling
of Language-Play in Film was completed in 2005. Since 2006, he is senior
lecturer in English linguistics at Mälardalen University, Sweden, though
still working as a translator occasionally, and with a continued research
interest in Translation Studies.
Roberto A. Valdeón was awarded a Master’s degree in English Literature

and Translation Studies from the University of Glasgow (1988), and
obtained his Ph.D. in English Studies from the University of Oviedo (1993).
He is the author of Las novelas de E. M. Forster: una revisión intertextual and
Spanish Texts for Translation, both published by the University of Oviedo
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Notes on Contributors xv
Press. He has published around fifty articles on EFL and translation,

including contributions to Perspectives, Across Languages and Cultures, Meta,
Linguistica Antverpiensia, Target, International Journal of Applied Linguistics,
Babel, Forum, Languages in Contrast, Phrasis and Trans. He is a member of
the editorial committee of Vigo International Journal of Applied Linguistics
(University of Vigo) and, from 2010, co-editor of Perspectives (University of
Copenhagen). He was the chairman of an international conference on
‘Translation in the Era of Information’ (October 2008). He has guest-
edited special issues of Vigo International Journal of Applied Linguistics,
Perspectives and Across Languages and Cultures. As a member of Aedean (the
Spanish Association for Anglo-American Studies), he chairs the Translation
Studies section.
Yau Wai-Ping teaches translation at Hong Kong Baptist University. He

is an experienced translator of Chinese poetry and fiction, and has pub-
lished articles on literary and screen translation. His specialist interests
include literary translation, media translation and Chinese literature.
Marc G. Weinberger is professor of marketing at the University of Mas-

sachusetts, Amherst, USA where his advertising work has explored the use
of humour and other message devices in magazines, television and radio
advertising. He has co-authored two books, Humor in Advertising: A Compre-
hensive Analysis and Effective Radio Advertising as well as articles that have
appeared in the Journal of Marketing, Journal of Advertising Research, Journal
of Advertising, European Journal of Marketing, Journal of Current Research
among others.
Patrick Zabalbeascoa is a Principal Lecturer in Translation Studies at the

Pompeu Fabra University in Barcelona, Spain. He lectures in translation
theory, humour translation and audiovisual screen translation, mostly from
English into Spanish and Catalan. His research is almost entirely focused
on translation studies, with special attention to the translation of audio-
visual texts for the television and the cinema. He also has numerous publi-
cations in translation theory, an area in which he has developed a model
of priorities and restrictions, and proposed alternative approaches to tradi-
tional views on so-called translation techniques, or shifts. In relation to all
of these aspects, his research interests, and much of his teaching, also reach
out to aspects of humour and metaphor translation. Some of his most
recent thinking and publications have to do with developing the idea of
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xvi Notes on Contributors
‘mapping’ translation solutions through a system of binary branching,

and also ‘mapping’ audiovisual text components on coordinates defined
by an audio/visual axis, and a verbal/non-verbal axis. His research interests
and teaching deal with aspects of film, humour and metaphor translation,
as well as audiovisual translation.
Federico Zanettin is Associate Professor of English Language and Translation

at the University of Perugia, Italy. Hi research interests range from comics
in translation, to corpus-based translation studies and intercultural com-
munication. His publications include the volumes Comics in Translations
(2008, editor) and Corpora in Translator Education (2003, co-editor), and articles
in various journals and edited volumes. He is co-editor of Translation Studies
Abstracts and the Bibliography of Translation Studies and inTRAlinea, an online
translation journal, and is the advisory board of the journals The Translator
and New Voices in Translation Studies.
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd xvi 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

Acknowledgements
I am greatly indebted to those scholars who reviewed the individual

contributions and the two volumes for their insightful comments and
constructive suggestions. Special thanks go to Jeremy Munday for believing
in this project, and above all for keeping me in line when and where
I would have naturally strayed into excessive exemplification of verbal
humour at the expense of scholarly discussion. Thanks also go to Jessica
Milner Davis for her support and expertise especially in matters regarding
Chinese and Japanese humour.
Janette Matthias and Daniela Pizzuto provided invaluable clerical and
editorial support. I would also like to thank Gurdeep Mattu, Colleen
Coalter and Mr P. Muralidharan of Continuum Books for all their help.
DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd xvii 8/17/2010 5:14:40 PM

Translating Humour in the Media
Delia Chiaro
While being quite independent from its preceding companion volume,

Translation, Humour and Literature, the present book aims at completing the
reader’s journey across the field of humour and translation. It provides
further indications on the subject outside the more traditional areas in
which humour occurs such as conversational interaction and literature,
two themes that are widely discussed in the previous book. Translation,
Humour and the Media sets out to examine a wider, newer and less studied
area and principally explores issues regarding the translation of humour in
the long-established media of cartoons and comics (Zanettin), cinema
(Fuentes Luque, Rossato and Chiaro, Schröter, Wai-Ping, Zabalbeascoa)
and television (Bucaria, Delabastita, O’Hagan, Valdeón). However, other
contributions also discuss the challenges involved in translating humour
in more recent media such as global advertising (Gulas and Weinberger),
video-games (Mangiron) and the simultaneous interpretation of live
media coverage of worldwide events (Antonini).
1. Translating Verbal Humour
In whatever form verbally expressed humour (Ritchie 2004) is couched, its

transposition between source and target languages is going to be a difficult
task. However, the basic obstacles translation faces, over and above the
medium, are basically still the same. In their General Theory of Verbal Humor,
Attardo and Raskin assert that verbal humour consists of two perfectly
overlapping and, at the same time, opposing scripts that are discernible
to the recipient as a single semantic script (Attardo and Raskin 1991). Thus,
any translation of verbally expressed humour (VEH ) should attempt to
re-create the overlap and opposition present in the source humour. This
task will naturally involve matching the linguistic ambiguity in the source
language (SL) with similar ambiguity in the target language (TL) as well as
DChiaro_Intro_Final.indd 1 8/17/2010 5:18:49 PM

2 Translation, Humour and the Media
finding solutions to culture-specific references pertaining to the culture of

origin which are frequently involved in humorous tropes. Of course, lingua-
cultural specificity is a problem facing any translation, but owing to the
fact that by nature verbal humour exploits linguistic ambiguity to extremes,
often combining it with highly specific cultural references, it stands to
reason that translating verbal humour can be especially complex.
(1) Why do the French only have one egg for breakfast?
Because one egg is un oeuf [enough].
(2) What do the French have for breakfast?
Weetabix. [Huit heures bix]
As discussed by Chiaro (see especially 2005, 2008a and Volume 1) the

unfeasibility of formal equivalence (i.e. a perfect linguistic match, see
Nida 1964) in translating jokes such as those exemplified in (1) and (2),
advocates that a functional translation might be a preferable option.
Functional translation, in this case, would involve replacing the jokes with
quite different ones in the TL even though doing so may entail disregard-
ing formal equivalence to a lesser or greater extent. However, where the
function of humour, its skopos, is to evoke funniness, then the translation
can be considered a success if recipients can perceive the humorous
intent of the target humour, despite the fact that it may not mirror the
source unerringly in formal terms (see Vermeer 1989 on Skoposteorie).
Because translational equivalence is regarded in terms of degrees of equi-
valence rather than absoluteness, the more similar the translated humour
is to the source humour, both in terms of form and function, the more
successful it will be. Accordingly, retaining a core element present in
the source humour can give a translation an extra degree of equivalence.
For example, here is a (somewhat lukewarm) solution to translating
example (1) into Italian:
(1a) Perché i francesi mangiano l’uovo a colazione?

Perché ogni giorno è un giorno (n)uovo.
[Because every day is a new day1]
By taking the source joke’s ‘invariable core’ (i.e. an essential element of

the source text which must be retained in translation, see Popovič, 1976) to
be the egg (uovo), the translation successfully preserves it by adding an
‘n’ before uovo to create the word nuovo (new). Unfortunately, not only
does the concept of ‘Frenchness’ disappear in translation but so does the

structure and typology of the source joke. Jokes (1) and (2) are both based
on what Delabastita (2005: 161–184) calls ‘translation-based monolingual
cross talk’, namely jokes that are based on TL ambiguity that exploits the
linguistic features of another language. In this case it is French, so perhaps
a preferable translation might be:
(1b) Un italiano e un francese stanno camminando per le strade di una città

quando si trovano davanti ad un escremento di cane.
Il francese dice: ‘Parbleu!’ E l’italiano: ‘Sarà . . . ma a me sembra marrone . . .’2
[An Italian and a Frenchman are walking through the streets
of a town when they come across some dog excrement. ‘Parbleu!’
cries the Frenchman. ‘Maybe’, says the Italian, ‘but it looks brown
to me!’]
This translation retains the bilingual crosstalk of the source joke by

deconstructing the French exclamation Parbleu! to become the Italian
phrase par[e] blu (‘it looks blue’) so that the French colour word bleu (blue)
can be deliberately contrasted with the Italian colour word marrone (brown)
for humorous purposes. This time, however, the original narrative structure
‘What do x have for breakfast?’ is lost. Wishing to retain the initial question
form, another acceptable variant could be:
(1c) Cosa mangiano i francesi a colazione?

Mah, non saprei, pâté d’animo?
[I don’t know, soul pâté?]
In this case, the expression patema d’animo (anguish) is deconstructed

and corrupted to create the French-sounding nonce term pâté d’animo
meaning ‘soul pâté’. French-sounding, edible and quite meaningless, but
then common sense and rationality are of no matter because, as far as
humour is concerned, disbelief is suspended and conversational maxims
are broken at will (see Chiaro, Volume 1 for a lengthy discussion of equiva-
lence, translational strategies and conversational maxims).
2. Translating Humour on Screen
Conversational humour and literary humour apart, a significant location of

such VEH is the screen – and cinema and television are two media that
thrive through translation.

2.1 Screen translation

By the end of the World War II, long before the world economy had
surrendered to the process of Macdonaldization, society had already begun
to undergo a more subtle process of globalization thanks to corporations
such as Screen Gems, Columbia, Paramount and RKO who managed to
rapidly colonize large swathes of the planet with their movies. In fact, just
as British Imperialism had effected the spread of English from the seven-
teenth century onwards, such was the force of celluloid that it was to make
Hollywood a significant catalyst in the growth of English as the first truly
global language, in the same way that rock music and the internet were to
contribute to completing this process in the later part of the era (McRum
et al. 2003). In addition, the 1950s also witnessed US-based television
concerns that followed in the footsteps of the cinema and broadcast their
products into homes the world over. In non-English speaking countries
throughout the world, the need to be able to understand and enjoy films
led to the birth of screen translation (Chiaro 2009a: 141–165).
Box office takings in any European country clearly show that for the most
part, movies are produced in the USA (see statistics at http://lumiere.obs.
coe.int and also at http://www.britfilms.com. Last accessed: 4 February
2010). The situation regarding television is hardly different. British televi-
sion is the exception since it actually produces much of what it broadcasts
while importing the rest from the USA and Australia and thus does not
generally require interlingual translation (i.e. translation from one lan-
guage into another, Jakobson 1959); the rest of Europe, on the other
hand, imports mainly from the USA, a practice which does necessitate
translation. According to the European Audiovisual Observatory, even
France, certainly the most linguistically protectionist European nation in
that it has gone as far as actually legislating that only a maximum percent-
age of programmes be brought in from abroad (Ulff-Møller 1998), still
imports over 70 per cent of both fiction and films from the USA (see
http://www.obs.coe.int/about/oea/pr/a02vol5.html; Last accessed: 3.
January 2010). This situation results in a huge amount of screen translation
in Europe alone, let alone worldwide (see Chiaro 2009b).
The main setback regarding translating for film is the fact that screen
products are polysemiotic; that is, they transmit messages by means of
diverse codes (see Chaume 2004, Chiaro 2009a: 143). Viewers watch actors
in action and simultaneously listen to what they say. At the same time,
viewers read any written information they might see (signs, newspaper

headlines, notes, etc.) while also perceiving a variety sounds (noise from
surroundings, for example traffic, birdsong, white noise, etc.; body sounds
like breathing, coughing, etc. and background music). Audiences will also
be aware of actors’ facial expressions and gestures, their dress, make-up and
hairstyles; they will take in the scenery and hear songs that may have lyrics
that are significant to the storyline of the film. Thus, the verbal elements of
filmic products depend heavily on other acoustic features, but above all on
a series of visual components to which they are inextricably linked. With
regard to verbal humour, when a joke, a gag or a line is linked to the visuals,
translation becomes especially difficult.
2.2 Humour on the big screen

In a famous scene from Lawrence Kasdan’s film The Big Chill (USA, 1988),
Tom Berenger, who plays the part of a dimwit, reluctant to father a child,
tells his partner that she is giving him ‘a massive headache’ to which she
replies that he is just making excuses, after all he has ‘genes’. At this point,
Berenson looks down at his trousers and touches them bemused. In the
dubbed Italian version of the film, the verbatim translation provided makes
no sense at all because ‘genes’ and ‘jeans’ in Italian are not homophones
(geni /dƛenI/ – jeans /dƛInz/). The actor simply looks at his trousers
without audiences really understanding why.
Similarly, in Leo McCarey’s 1933 Marx Brothers’ film Duck Soup, Firely
(Groucho), the president of Freedonia, asks Chico and Harpo, two incom-
petent spies for ‘record[s]’ in the sense of ‘documentation’. In response,
Harpo pulls out a gramophone record from his coat. This wacky visual pun
calls for deep thought in translation. The Italian subtitles read:
(3) Volete rispondermi a tono una volta per tutte! Cambiate disco per Bacco!
[Will you answer me once and for all! Change the record/subject
for Goodness’ sake!]
The object of the joke is clearly visible to audiences, so ignoring a

reference to a record would have simply created a non sequitur. The
problem was resolved in Italian by compensating through the use of the
idiomatic expression cambiare disco (meaning ‘to change the subject’) which
contains the word disco (meaning ‘disc/record’) thus enabling dialogue
and visuals to converge (Chiaro 1992, 2006).

2.2.1 Translation strategies

Verbal humour on screen tends to be translated in the following ways:
a. Leave the VEH unchanged

In the British farce Blame it on the Bellboy (1991, Mark Hermann), a
linguistically challenged bellboy at Gabriele’s Hotel in Venice misunder-
stands the names of three English speaking clients: Mr Melville
Orton, who is in Venice to buy a property for his boss; Mr Maurice
Horton, who, unbeknown to his wife, is there on a blind date and
Mr Lawrence Laughton, a hired killer. The perfect ingredients for a
farce, the names remain the same in other language versions too.
b. Replace the source VEH with a different instance of VEH in the TL

This solution is the most difficult but certainly the most satisfying
for translators and audiences alike, although it does depend upon the
dexterity of translators. Several examples can be found in Mike Newell’s
1994 comedy Four Weddings and a Funeral. For instance, a novice priest,
played by Rowan Atkinson, botches up a wedding ceremony by missing
out certain sounds of the words in the litany:
(4) ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Goat’
Italian dubbing-scriptwriters create an equally irreverent effect by add-

ing two syllables to the Italian litany where the source had deducted a
single sound:
(4a) Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spiritoso Santo.
[In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Lively saint]
Unlike English, in the case of this ecclesiastic litany Italian syntax requires
the adjective to follow the noun. So, while the source version plays on the
noun (‘ghost/goat’), the target version plays on the sounds of the noun–
adjective combination – it transforms the noun spirito (‘ghost’) into the
adjective spiritoso (‘lively’), and the adjective santo (‘holy’) into its noun
form (‘saint’). Hence, the ST ‘Holy Ghost’ becomes the TT ‘lively saint’.
(5) ‘Do you take this woman to be your awful wedded wife?’
(5a) Prendi questa donna per la tua illegittima sposa?
[‘illegitimate’ as opposed to ‘legitimate’]
c. Replace the source VEH with an idiomatic expression in the TL

A much quoted example is how a classic pun from the Marx Brothers’
1942 classic Horse Feathers (USA, Norman McLeod) was translated into
Italian. Dean of Faculty, Groucho Marx is signing a document and
demands that someone give him a ‘seal’, but Harpo Marx complies by
turning up with a seal, that is the animal! A visual pun, typical of the
Marx Brothers’ off-the-wall humour, brilliantly resolved in the Italian
translation by replacing Groucho’s request with the imperative ‘Focal-
izziamo’ (‘let’s focus on it’). A good portion of the semantic content of
the source dialogue is retained in the verb focalizziamo as the syllable foca
is the Italian word for ‘seal’ (i.e. the animal). This linguistic coincidence
can be considered a fortunate one. In fact, as Adrián Fuentes Luque (this
volume) points out, the Spanish dubbed version decided against retain-
ing the word foca, opting for testigo (‘witness’) instead, thus significantly
reducing the comic effect of the passage and ‘turning the presence of
the animal seal into an unfunny absurdity’ (p. 337).
d. ignore the VEH altogether:

Set in the Warsaw ghetto during World War II, Polish-Jewish musician
Wladyslaw Szpilman is the main character in Roman Polanski’s The Pian-
ist (2002, USA). The dialogues are mainly in English with most German
conversation subtitled. Towards the end of the film, Szpilman is found in
hiding by a Gestapo officer, Hosenfeld, who offers him help. When
Hosenfeld finds out that Szpilman is a pianist he asks him, in German,
what his name is. The English subtitles read:
(6) Hosenfeld: What is your name? So I can listen for you.

Szpilman: My name is Szpilman.
Hosenfeld: Spielmann? That is a good name, for a pianist.
This perfectly correct, word-for-word translation, however ignores the

fact that the viewer would need to know that the surname ‘Szpilman’ sounds
like the German word/surname ‘Spielman’, which in both Polish and
German literally means, ‘the man who plays’ or ‘the player’. In other words,
in the original, Hosenfeld is amused by Szpilman’s ironic surname (see
Chiaro 2009a: 162–163).
However, a need to ensure that the correct link between verbal and
visual codes is respected in translation is not exclusive to cinema and
TV. This volume includes a chapter which at first sight may seem out of
place, an overview of the translation of cartoons and comic books. However,
the translation of cartoons and comics has much in common with screen

translation because of the tight bond between the visuals in the frame and
the verbal content. Comics, in fact, have a narrative framework that much
resembles the storyboard of filmic products. What is specific to humour in
cartoons and comics is the way humour is often conveyed in them, that
is, through the combination and interaction of both verbal and visual
resources. Federico Zanettin illustrates that, when comics are republished
in a country which is different from that of original publication, not only
are verbal elements replaced by texts in a new language, but also visual
elements can be either modified and adapted or reinterpreted according
to the visual conventions of the target culture.
2.2.2 Humour, translation and quality

Whether dubbed or subtitled, translational choices on screen are constantly
criticized by both public and scholars. Adrián Fuentes Luque examines the
main sources of humour in the Marx Brothers’ films, focusing on their
plays on words and exploring the linguistic and cultural mechanisms they
use to trigger comic effects. The Marx Brothers’ humour is often labelled
as one of the most universal examples of humour, influencing important
contemporary comedians. Yet it has also proven to be one of the most
difficult types of humour to translate, to such an extent that, according to
Fuentes Luque, it has been received differently in English and Spanish,
generating very different interpretations of these comedians and their
humour. On the other hand, Patrick Zabalbeascoa’s examination of the
themes present in the films of Woody Allen paradoxically suggests that
their style of humour is just as difficult to translate as that of the Marx
Brothers. Although Marxian wordplay presents translational problems for
the essentialness of their humour, in the sense that their films are full of
straightforward puns, it would appear that Allen, while being less of a pun-
ster, tends towards formally less complex but intellectually more sophisti-
cated humour. According to Zabalbeascoa, Allen replicates culture-specific
themes such as Jewishness, anti-semitism, psychiatry, penis envy and New
York in all his films. These conceptual themes, couched in humorous tones,
appear to create just as much difficulty in their Spanish translations as the
plain, yet highly complex, visual and verbal puns of the Marx Brothers.
Chiaro asserts that contemporary US screen comedy (including on TV)
generally tends to avoid the extreme punning so typical of the Marx
Brothers by opting for a more general humour based on a vague type of
global culture (see introduction to Volume 1 and 2005). However, in this
sense, films for children seem go against the grain. As Thorsten Schröter’s
corpus of family films shows, puns remain an important element in the

dialogues. Examining the German, Danish and Swedish translations

(both dubs and subtitles) of the wordplay in his corpus, he attempts to
evaluate quality.
Linda Rossato and Delia Chiaro adopt a more empirical method to inves-
tigate the issue of quality by exploring audience perception of translated
humour. In addition to investigating reactions of Italians to humour in
the dubbed version of the German comedy Goodbye Lenin (2003, Wolfgang
Becker) and comparing them with the reaction of German spectators, they
also analyse the reactions to the film of different generations of Germans
according to their knowledge of the ex-GDR. The reaction of Italian
respondents watching in translation resembled more the reaction of a
sub-sample of German respondents from the ex-GDR than a sub-sample
that has always lived in the GFR. Since the ex-GDR sample would be draw-
ing on their shared knowledge of covert cultural references in the film,
the similar reaction from the Italian audience might indicate the effective-
ness of the adaptation in allowing them a window on the foreign.
However, possibly the most difficult feature affecting the quality of screen
translation is language variation. Variety is frequently used for humorous
purposes – suffice it to think of how comedians all over the world use
regional accents in their repertoire. But what to do about regional variation
in translation is indeed a thorny issue. Is the source variety to be replaced
with a target variety? Is it to be flattened by simply replacing it with a standard
target form (see Chiaro 2008b and 2010)? The servants in Altman’s film
Gosford Park (2001, USA/GB/Italy/Germany) speak a variety of the many
working class Englishes while householders and guests upstairs use Received
Pronunciation. Furthermore, one of the guests is an American who pre-
tends to be both Scottish and a servant. The oddness of his accent is
immediately obvious to the other servants and autochthonous audiences.
Quite a challenge in translation. And if, in dubbing, there is always the
option of replacing a regional variety of the SL with a regional variety in
the TL (though it may not be a particularly enlightening choice to make
considering the connotations specific varieties convey), how can variety
be accommodated in subtitled form? Along these lines, Yau Wai-Ping reports
on the use of both Standard Chinese and Cantonese in subtitled VEH in
Hong Kong and how its recognition and use by the nation’s media has,
according to the author, heralded public acceptability of a ‘Low’ variety.
2.3 Humour on the small screen

Britain and the USA have a very long and well-established tradition of
television sitcom.3 Both nations export these comedies worldwide although

US comedies are generally more widespread and better known. However,

British sitcoms fare extremely well in the Benelux area, for example (see
Kuipers 2006), with the odd sitcom sporadically doing well elsewhere too
(e.g. Fawlty Towers (BBC, 1975–1979) in Spain and Germany and George and
Mildred (ITV, 1976–1979) in Italy. In addition, comedy series such as Monty
Python’s Flying Circus (BBC, 1969–1974) and Little Britain (BBC, 2003–2006)
have cult followings across Europe although they cannot match the global
popularity of US series like Friends (NBC 1994–2004), The Simpsons (Fox,
1989 – present) and Sex and the City (HBO, 1998–2004). Moreover, some-
times sitcoms are successful despite their inadequate translations, as is
the case of The Nanny (USA, CBS, 1993–1999) in which many culturally
unfamiliar items had to be altered in order to make the programme more
palatable and more marketable in Europe. The series contains many traits
specific to Jewish culture including the use of Yiddish and Yinglish. The
Italian version, La Tata, underwent some drastic changes as far as the
‘Jewishness’ of the sitcom is concerned. Whereas the main character, Fran,
was born and raised in Queens, New York and liberally uses Yiddish terms,
in the Italian version she is transformed into an Italian immigrant born of
a Catholic family from Frosinone near Rome and is thus connoted with a
Ciociara accent, namely the accent of the Lazio region south of Rome. The
end-product is totally different from the original but extremely successful
all the same. The exclamation ‘Oy’, for example, is used very frequently in
Yiddish and, in the German dub of the series (Die Nanny), Fran (who
remains Jewish) liberally sprinkles her (High German) speech with the
term ‘Oy’, for example ‘Oy, you have wonderful hair!’ (Oy du hast wun-
drevolles Haar). In the Italian version, ‘Oy’ is toned down with terms such as
Oh, No and Ecco (‘here’) according to the context. Thus the ‘colour’ of the
original is lost, but then this is in line with the choice of rendering Fran
as Catholic and meridionale rather than Jewish from Queens. However,
the creative dubbing of La Tata, with its gentle laughing ‘at’ the earthy
Southern Italian nanny, surely contributed to its success in Italy.
However, many British sitcoms are ‘re-versioned’ or ‘adapted’ for the
USA market, with fresh scripts and new actors (see Chiaro 2005). Both Ab
Fab (BBC, 1992–2005) and The Office (BBC, 2001) are just two examples of
sitcoms which were made afresh for US television – in the case of The Office
the US format actually became a global format, with French, German and
South American versions too. Yet, while British comedies screened in their
original form tend to be relegated to pay-per view TV channels in the USA
(e.g. Ricky Gervais’ The Office (BBC, 2001) and the Da Ali G Show (Channel
4, 2000) ran after midnight on Sundays on networks like HBO and BBC
America), US products are screened liberally in Britain and across Europe

at prime time. Of course, one of the problems with British sitcom is that it
traditionally pivots on the issue of class, while US comedy prefers to play
on the characterization of the individual or the strength of the storyline.
So, US TV experiments with cutting-edge products such as cross-genre Des-
perate Housewives (ABC, USA, 2004–present) and House MD (Fox, USA,
2004–present), contain a pot-pourri of romance, thriller and humour.
While the British follow suit in products like Shameless, (Channel 4, UK,
2004–present), they tend to remain firmly tied to their fixation with class
(see Wagg 1998). In other words, it would appear that the UK tends to pro-
duce very culture-specific series whereas the USA locates its series in more
general scenarios with characters who have internationally recognizable
features. And, as Davies argues (Volume 1), it is class displayed through
Britain’s many social varieties, so often the subject of English jokes, that
creates that extra comic dimension that restricts its ease when attempting
to cross borders. The issue of class combined with a light-hearted glance at
Anglo-French relationships, or rather the public’s perception of feelings
between the two peoples, rears its head in classic UK sitcom ’Allo ’Allo!
discussed by Dirk Delabastita. Above all, Delabastita explores the area of
how dubbing scriptwriters deal with the kind of ‘bilingual/translational’
wordplay as in examples (1) and (2). For example, in the movie A Fish
Called Wanda (Charles Chrichton, UK, 1984), Wanda (played by Jamie Lee
Curtis), in order to become aroused sexually, has her partner(s) speak to
her in a foreign language. In a well-known scene, her boyfriend Otto (played
by Kevin Kline) invents nonsensical Italian in order to make love to her:
(7) Otto: È molto pericoloso signorina, molto perico . . . Carissima!

Wanda: Oh speak it! Speak it!
Otto: Un ossobuco milanese con piselli. Melanzane parmigiana con
spinaci. Dov’è la farmacia?
Wanda: Yes, yes, yes! No, no, no!
Otto: Sì sì si! Ecco l’uomo . . . oooh le due cupole grandi della cattedrale
di Milano . . . Benito Mussolini! Dov’è il Vaticano? Oh, ecco Roma
. . . Volare . . . Oh oh . . . Cantare . . . oh . . .
[(7a) Otto: It is very dangerous Miss, very danger . . . My Dear!
Wanda: Oh speak it! Speak it!
Otto: One ossobuco milanese with peas. Melanzane parmigiana
with spinach. Where’s the chemist’s?
Wanda: Yes, yes, yes! No, no, no!
Otto: Sì sì si! Ecce homo . . . oooh the two domes of Milan
cathedral . . . Benito Mussolini! Where’s the Vaticano? Oh,
there’s Rome . . . Volare . . . Oh oh . . . Cantare . . . oh . . .]

Otto uses entire phrases from tourist phrase books, from ordering food
to asking for directions, finishing with the first bar of the song Volare. But
how can this be translated into Italian when the whole film will be dubbed
into Italian anyway? Italian dubbing-scriptwriters (project manager Gianni
Galassi) opted for Spanish in place of Italian. Russian translators had to
overcome the same problem in the scenes in which Archie (John Cleese)
makes love to Wanda in pseudo-Russian (see Chiaro 2010).
However, television is no longer the only type of ‘small screen’ available.
Humour can also occur on rather different small screens, such as those
attached to video-game consoles. Carmen Mangiron looks at how localizers
of the best-selling video game Final Fantasy succeeded in adapting idiolects
and dialects present in the original Japanese version for players of other
languages. And, remaining in the field of Japanese cutting-edge techno-
logy, Minako O’Hagan reports on the use of regional variety in open intral-
ingual subtitles (open caption ‘telop’) to underscore humour in popular
Japanese TV formats. These subtitles (at the time of writing still quite
unusual elsewhere) superimpose extra information; used intralingually
in Japan (i.e. to give extra information on Japanese programmes), they
provide cues for laughter like a sort of visual canned laughter that is quite
typical in the west.
Something else which may get lost in translation is the political incorrect-
ness of humour. Chiara Bucaria explores the translation of instances of
black humour in the Italian dubbed and subtitled versions of the TV series
Six Feet Under (HBO, 2001–2005). In both translational modes, (subtitles
and dub) the Italian version displays a certain amount of verbal restraint
in matters of distaste (death; sickness; homosexuality, etc.). This is in total
contrast with other forms of equally dark humour that are alive and kicking
in Italy (see section 3 below). Vice versa, Roberto A. Valdeón examines the
way in which the discursive portrayal of two gay characters in the sitcom Will
and Grace shifts in the Spanish version so that it results in a less politically
correct reading than the original.
3. New Media, Old Humour
Today humour travels more quickly than it has ever done before. The
thrust of technology coupled with the series of world-changing historical
events that have led to the process of globalization have undoubtedly
made the world a smaller place. Until the last quarter of the twentieth
century, mass media were limited to newspapers, film and television, but

the internet and digitization have radically widened and increased our
access to information, so much so that television and the internet have
established themselves in a position of cultural dominance in much of the
world. Thus, it should come as no surprise that, like any other aspect of life,
humour has also been touched by both changes and the ascendancy of
mass media.
With information travelling so fast in a shrinking planet, people expect
to see feature films worldwide as soon as possible after their Hollywood
premiers. The public learns about new US TV series via the internet before
they are aired elsewhere. There is a very large translational market that
requires speedier work than ever before. Similarly, live media coverage is
expected of all significant manifestations and events. Many events, such as
the yearly Academy Awards ceremony (the ‘Oscars’), include humour.
Rachele Antonini reports on a variety of strategies enacted by simultaneous
interpreters working in real time on the Oscar ceremony.
Charles S. Gulas and Marc G. Weinberger draw attention to the fact that
humour is dependent not only on the joke itself, but also on the complex
interaction between the joke, the joke teller, and the audience. Indeed, a
given joke may be humorous from one source and highly offensive from
another. And with the presence of the internet, many people from different
parts of the planet are able to access texts which were not necessarily aimed
at them. Thus, as Gulas and Weinberger explain, enormous care and
sensitivity are required in promotional campaigns. Humour is very much in
the eyes and ears of the receiver; nowadays greater care than ever before
must be taken if we do not wish to offend others through what we consider
to be funny.
A clear example of the power of the media can be seen in how it has
become the norm that within minutes of any ‘well publicized accident or
shocking event’ such as 9/11 or the death of Michael Jackson, a series
of (sick) jokes about it will be posted on the internet (Davies 1999: 253).
Davies provides several examples of ‘disaster jokes’ such as the following
regarding the death of Diana Spencer:
(8) “What did the mortuary attendant say as he unzipped [Diana

Spencer’s] mortuary bag?
‘Zippady Dodi, Zippady Di.’ (p. 254)
Undoubtedly in the worst possible bad taste, yet according to Davies,

there is nothing particularly new or different in these jokes and argues
that the internet has simply replaced traditional folk culture, which had

previously been responsible for the oral circulation of similar disaster jokes.
The following joke circulated in British playgrounds in the late 1950s:
(9) If Christie had two sons what would he call them?

Ropem and Chokem.
(Opie and Opie 1959: 106)
This joke regarded murderer John Reginald Christie who was hanged in
1953 for having strangled several women (see Chiaro, Volume 1). Although
it is just as ‘sick’ as the Diana joke, nowadays the impact of the joke appears
to be nuanced probably because we are more historically and emotionally
distanced from the event itself. Furthermore, folklorists Opie and Opie
themselves may well have censored the joke, as Christie’s victims were
raped after being murdered. In fact, it is likely that the real version was
‘Chokem and Rapem’ thus rendering the joke just as tasteless as any Diana
joke. Moreover, as Dundes points out ‘Jokes themselves are neither good
nor evil . . . It is, therefore, futile to protest against the existence of sick
humour. As long as natural, and human made disasters occur, jokes about
these disasters are probably inevitable’ (1987: 80).
However, a significant difference between the traditional oral dissemina-
tion of jokes and the new phenomenon of electronic distribution (via text,
email, social networking sites, etc.) brings the issue of translation to the
fore as internet users may be speakers of any language and, in the case of
‘disaster joke cycles’ (Davies 1999), will be likely to need to contend with
English. Example (12) requires the recipient to be familiar with the song
‘Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah’ from the Disney film Song of the South (1946) upon
which the joke first plays on the meaning of the term ‘zip’ and simultane-
ously exploits the similarity of the names Dodi (Dodi Al-Fayed, Diana
Spencer’s companion) and Di (Diana’s media nickname) with the first
two lines of the song ‘Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-a-Dee-Day’. The likelihood of
being able to make use of comparable linguistic play with parallel multiple
meanings in another language is extremely remote (see also Chiaro 2005
and 2008a). Only a functional translation would be possible.
However, when all is said and done, humour is basically disseminated as
it has always been, namely via personal communication. So, humour in the
media will occur either in spoken or written form, and it thus follows that
it will face similar problems to ‘naturally’ occurring humour when trans-
ferred from Source to Target Language. A translation will always need to
negotiate lingua-cultural specificity upon which so much verbal humour is
based. However, especially in the case of ping-pong-punning via sms and

disaster-joke cycles, it can be said that the medium is the message. The new
media have created the opportunity for us to watch disasters in real time
while exhorted to react. Yet we watch and react from the safety of our
homes, watching tragic events often sandwiched between trivial programmes
and advertisements. As Davies points out, it is from precisely this kind of
incongruity from which humour is born. The humour itself has not
changed.
Notes
1
I would like to thank Rachele Antonini for providing this translation.
2
I would like to thank Andrea Alvisi for providing translations (4) and (5).
3
For a history of UK sitcoms from the 1950s to the 1990s see Wagg (1998) and for the USA
see Nilsen and Nilsen (2000).
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Chapter 1
That’s Not Funny Here: Humorous

Advertising Across Boundaries1
Charles S. Gulas and Marc G. Weinberger
Advertisers worldwide spend the equivalent of hundreds of billions dollars

annually and it is estimated that, depending on media, between 10 per cent
and 35 per cent of ads are attempts at humour. Just the top 100 global
companies spend well over $100 billion on at least three continents. It is
no surprise that in a world of CNN, Sky News, BBC, You Tube and Blogs that
it is harder to compartmentalize the effects of advertising to the intended
country or audience. Here we examine the complexities of humorous
advertising in the context of attempts to cross boundaries rather than the
more common term ‘borders’ used in many discussions of global advertis-
ing. Our reason is that boundary defines a much broader meaning which
goes beyond simple country to country differences. The term boundary
opens up for discussion many more ways that audiences differ and where
advertising humour can face the same obstacles as when ads are seen in
more than one country.
We begin with the humour process which includes an agent, an object
and an audience. The agent is the source of the humour, the individual or
group presenting the humour. The object is the ‘victim’ of the humour.
This is the person or group that is being mocked, ridiculed or otherwise
made into a point of ‘fun’, which may in fact be not at all fun for the humour
object. The audience is the recipient of the humour. These components
can sometimes be collapsed but often they are distinctly different players.
For example, in self-deprecating humour, the agent is also the object of the
humour. In other situations, the audience may be the object of the humour
and in still others the object may be completely different than the agent or
the audience.
In the case of humorous advertising, there are two levels of agency:
agency internal to the ad, and the agency of the ad itself. For example, a
character in an ad who delivers a punchline would be an internal humour
DChiaro_01_Final.indd 17 8/12/2010 4:15:29 PM

agent. However, an ad may be humorous without an internal humour agent.

Nonetheless, there is still a source of the humour. In the case of a humor-
ous ad the advertiser is a humour agent since the advertiser is the ultimate
source of the humour. The term agency in this sense should not be con-
fused with an advertising agency. The extent to which an advertising agency
is involved is not relevant here since their role in the ad is not usually appar-
ent to the audience. However, the advertiser or their brand must be seen by
the viewer to be the source of the ad in order for the message to have its
intended effect. One of the primary rationales behind the use of humour
in advertising is that there is an affect transfer from liking the ad to a more
likeable advertiser or brand. If the audience likes the ad it is hoped the
audience will like the advertiser. This affect transfer is dependent upon
the advertiser being associated with the ad.
The object of the humour is the butt of the joke. As noted earlier, in
self-deprecating humour the object is the agent. Generally, however, the
butt of the joke is a third party. The third party object may be a specific,
known individual such as a politician or a celebrity. The humour might
also be directed at a more general target; for example, an anonymous
blunderer. However, even an anonymous individual will be associated with
some group, lawyers, auto mechanics, women, men, blondes, older adults,
children, etc. It is impossible to include a character in an ad that cannot
be classified as belonging to some group. Indeed, the humour may depend
on stereotypes associated with a group or icon that has a shared meaning
for an audience.
The audience is the recipient of the humour. The humour is designed to
entertain them, and in a marketing sense they are the target of the humour
since they are the target of the ad. In a revealing study of children aged
3 years to 6 years from different ethnic and income backgrounds McGhee
and Duffey (1983) found that, in general, humour victimizing parents
was perceived as funnier than humour victimizing children, and humour
victimizing the opposite sex was perceived as funnier than humour victim-
izing one’s own sex. This is a clear case where it is easier to laugh at a
humour object that is different than the (audience) joke listener. In gen-
eral it is easier to laugh at parents and the opposite sex.
In all cases, the audience is the arbiter of what constitutes humour.
Attempts at humour do not always result in a humorous reaction and so,
intended humour is not the same as perceived humour. This dichotomy
has practical implications for the use of humour in advertising. As such
it has been a limitation of some academic studies of advertising humour
that used ‘attempted humour’ as a proxy for ‘humour’. While clearly

Humorous Advertising Across Boundaries 19
related, the two are separate phenomena and the distinction between them
is important. Flaherty et al. (2004) found that attempts at humour in adver-
tising that are not perceived by the audience as funny are not likely to
succeed in achieving marketing objectives. With regard to humour, you do
not get credit for trying.
1. Boundaries
The agent, object and audience dynamics are complicated by the notion of
boundaries which may exist between each of these units. These boundaries
may be national, subcultural, political, gender, ethnic, religious, age, educa-
tional, experiential or a myriad of other differences which define us. These
boundaries can influence whether the audience is familiar enough with
the context to understand the humour, whether the intended play signals
are interpreted as play or if they offend and whether there is receptiveness
for a humour attempt. In the world of electronic and internet communi-
cation, advertising campaigns can have unintended negative consequences
among audiences holding different boundary perspectives.
Many things may affect whether or not an attempt at humour is perceived
as humorous and of particular importance is the nature of the audience
and the relationships between the agent, audience and object of the humour.
Not surprisingly, the nature of these interactions can be quite complex.
Disposition theory (Zillmann and Cantor 1976: 1996) posits that the
audience’s disposition towards the object of the humour and towards the
originator (agent) of the humour is critical. Perception of humour is nega-
tively correlated with the favourableness of the disposition towards the
disparaged target of the humour and positively correlated with the favoura-
bleness of the disposition towards the source of the disparagement. In
other words, it is funny when people we like disparage people that we do
not like. It is not funny when people we do not like disparage people that
we do like. The degree of commonality between agent, object and audience
is critical. Thus a humorous ad created by a young white male that used
an older black woman as the object of the humour will likely have widely
varying effects depending upon audience composition. An audience of
young white males may find the ad humorous. On the other hand, women,
blacks and older people are not likely to be as positively inclined toward
the ad. Thus, finding age, gender or ethnic differences in response to
such an ad is almost certain and cannot be interpreted as generalizable
humour effects.

1.1 Ethnic boundaries

Traditionally much humour is ethnically based. Greater levels of political
sensitivity may have reduced this to an extent but ethnic humour is univer-
sal. It is found to some degree in every culture. In an empirical study of
ethnic humour, Gallois and Callan (1985) found that the mere presence of
an ethnic label in a joke could affect humour ratings. High ethnocentric
audience members ‘rated the jokes with ethnic victims as funnier, but low
ethnocentrics found them slightly less funny, than the same jokes without
ethnic labels’ (Gallois and Callan 1985: 73). Ethnic humour is a universal
phenomenon found across cultures. Indeed, Davies (1982) notes that
most nations have two ethnic targets for humour, generally one ‘stupid
group’ and one ‘canny group’.
Empirical evidence indicates that people of different cultural back-
grounds within the same country respond to humour differently. In an
experiment that compared Israeli Jews of Eastern and Western descent,
Weller and his colleagues found significant differences in the appreciation
for absurd jokes between the two groups (Weller et al. 1976: 163). They posit
that these differences are due to ‘habits of thought and mental attitudes
rooted in cultural backgrounds’. Similarly, Nevo (1986) found that Israeli
Jews and Arabs differed in their perception of humorous events in a
manner consistent with other studies. The traditional majority-minority
difference was found in which the majority group (Jews) expressed more
aggression in humour (Nevo 1986). These findings imply that jokes may
not be easily ‘translatable’ between cultures even in a given county.
Religion, regional dialects, levels of urbanization and any number of
other barriers exist to cross-cultural humour perception even within the
borders of a given nation.
While ethnic humour was once common in advertising, it is more rare
today and often less acceptable. However, in modern advertising, other
group-based targets are common. These target groups may be defined by
age, gender, physical characteristics, political affiliation or numerous other
grouping attributes. For example, while we are not aware of a content
analysis study specifically addressing the issue, there appears to be growing
use of the ‘dumb dad’ character as the target in humorous ads in some
countries. In fact, several organizations have recently been formed to try
to raise awareness regarding widespread misandry in advertising.
There may be a mechanism such as similarity between agent, audience
and object operating beyond positive and negative disposition to the agent
and audience. For example, if an overweight person tells a ‘fat joke’ to
an audience of overweight people it is more likely to be perceived as

humorous than it would be if the source of the joke was a thin person. Even
if the audience was previously disposed favourably towards the joke teller,
it is likely that the humour would not be perceived as humorous, and the
attitude towards the joke teller may change. In this case the dissimilarity
between the audience and the joke telling agent changes the joke from
being playful self-deprecation to offensive. Indeed, a given joke may be
humorous from one source and highly offensive from another either
because of one’s disposition towards the joke teller or because the joke
teller is similar to the humour object or audience. As Kruger (1996) notes,
Jewish humour may be seen as a form of aggression against a minority
group if told by a non-Jewish person, but may actually serve ‘mastery
purposes’ when the joke teller is Jewish. Juni and Katz (2001) ‘reject the
analytic notion that self-effacing humor is masochistic’. Rather, they argue
that, ‘self-directed humor adopted by an oppressed group is adaptive and
beneficial to the group’s integrity and emotional well-being’ (Juni and Katz
2001: 120). Thus the commonality, in this case similarity or dis-similarity
between agent, object and audience plays an important role in determining
the success of a humour attempt. This adds to the complexity of attempting
to take humour across boundaries.
1.2 Gender boundaries

Another potential boundary is the interaction between gender and humour,
and it has been widely studied and is a topic of general conversation.
In fact, some have quipped that, the difference between men and women
in the USA is that men enjoy the Three Stooges. This statement appears to
have some empirical support. Men show a greater general appreciation for
aggressive humour (Whipple and Courtney 1981; Prerost 1995) and use
humour negatively more often than women (Meyers et al. 1997).
Lammers and his colleagues found that humour significantly increased
liking of an advertising message for male respondents while the same
humorous execution decreased liking of the ad for female respondents
(Lammers et al. 1983). Similarly, Stewart-Hunter (1985) found that a
humorous ad that produced below average brand registration scores
overall produced a very high brand registration score among men in a
regional sub-sample. In an analysis of advertising readership, Madden
and Weinberger (1982) found significant differences between men and
women with regard to humorous ads.
It is likely that the findings in these, and similar studies, have informed
the opinions of advertising practitioners. The majority of these practitioners

were found to believe that humorous ads are best suited to a target audi-
ence comprised of better educated younger males (Madden and Weinberger
1984). Madden and Weinberger’s study occurred over twenty-five years ago.
Therefore, we cannot be certain that these attitudes still prevail. However,
to the degree that this perception is still held, it is likely that it is incorrect.
While multiple studies have found gender differences of one sort or another,
it cannot be inferred that there is a generalizable male preference for
humour. Rather, it is likely that the differences seen are due to more narrow
executional factors. This, however, should not to be taken as a criticism of
extant research.
The findings regarding gender effects on response to humour raises
some interesting issues. Humour is very closely tied into the culture,
experiences and points of reference that are shared between the humour
originator and the humour receiver. For example, research has suggested
that the gender response to sexual humour is reversed when the creator
of the humour is female (Gallivan 1991) and as noted earlier, the charac-
teristics of the butt of the joke may influence which audiences find the
joke funny (McGhee and Duffey 1983; Gallois and Callan 1985, Gruner
1991). If this is indeed the case, then much of the variation based on
gender, and perhaps race, age and other demographic factors, may be
explained by differing perspectives of the creator of the humorous mani-
pulation and the receiver of that manipulation. Thus the ‘shared point of
view’ between the creator of a humorous ad and the target of the ad is
a potentially important intervening variable in humour effectiveness.
1.3 Global boundaries

The complexity of humour has intrigued many researchers. Humour is
a universal human activity found among all cultures, and throughout all
of recorded history (Alden et al. 1993). No cultural group has ever been
discovered that was devoid of a sense of humour (Kruger 1996). In fact,
evidence of humour can even be found in apes (Gamble 2001). Yet, humour
is culturally specific as well.
In a study of Finnish and American college students’ response to humor-
ous advertisements, no significant differences were found (Unger 1995).
Alternatively, a study comparing Singaporean students with counterparts
in Israel and the USA found that while levels of laughter, smiles and
joke telling were similar, Singaporean students demonstrated less usage
of humour as a coping mechanism and were less likely to use sexual
and aggressive humour (Nevo et al. 2001). Numerous studies have been

conducted examining advertising humour in a given country, or compar-

ing one culture with another with regard to use of humour (see e.g. Alden
et al. 1993; Alden and Martin 1995; DePelsmacker and Geuens 1998;
Pornpitakpan and Tan 2000; Taylor et al. 2002).
Alden et al. (1993) conducted a large multi-country investigation of
humour in advertising. While the study found use of incongruity in the
television advertising in each of the four countries examined, they also
found that the use of humour in advertising differed across cultures system-
atically and varied along major cultural dimensions. For example, Thailand
and South Korea are countries that rate high on Hofstede’s power distance
dimension, a measure of the degree to which power is distributed unequally.
These cultures tend to be hierarchical in nature. This hierarchical cultural
dimension was reflected in the nature of humorous advertising employed.
Alden et al. (1993) found that 63 per cent of the humorous ads in these two
countries portrayed characters of unequal status. On the other hand, ads
in the USA and Germany, cultures that rate low on the power distance
dimension were significantly less likely to portray characters of unequal
status. Indeed 71 per cent of the ads in the sample featured equal status
characters. Additionally, 75 per cent of the sampled ads in Thailand and
South Korea, both collectivist cultures, featured three or more characters.
While only 26 per cent of the ads in the sample from the Germany and
USA, both individualized cultures, featured three or more characters.
These findings suggest that use of humour in advertising follows broad
cultural characteristics and is another illustration of both the universal
yet parochial nature of humour.
Building on the work conducted by Alden et al. (1993), Lee and Lim
(2008) examined the interaction between cultural orientation and humour
processes. Specifically they examined the humour processes of incongruity-
resolution and arousal-safety and the cultural orientations of individualism-
collectivism and uncertainty avoidance. They found uncertainty avoiding
respondents were more likely to respond positively to humorous ads that
have resolved or safe outcomes. A higher collectivism orientation was
found to intensify the effects of safe results for ads using arousal-safety
humour. Taken together these findings suggest that the effectiveness of
incongruity resolution humour depends on the recipient’s preference for
uncertainty avoidance, and the effectiveness of arousal-safety humour
depends on the recipient’s tolerance for uncertainty and/or whether they
view themselves primarily as individuals or primarily as a part of a group. As
noted earlier, national cultures can be rated on various cultural dimensions
such as individualism-collectivism. Thus, Lee and Lim’s (2008) findings

have obvious implications for global businesses conducting international

ad campaigns. But perhaps more importantly they have implications for
domestic advertising as well. Unlike many studies of cultural orientation,
Lee and Lim (2008) did not use an international sampling frame. The
participants in the Lee and Lim study were 222 Chinese MBA students.
Thus even within a relatively narrow sampling frame with regard to educa-
tion level and country of origin, Lee and Lim found significant cultural
variation in humour response.
In a very diverse multi-ethnic marketplace like the European Union or
the USA these differences are likely to be manifest strongly with regard to
humour. Humour that works in one cultural group may not be appreciated
outside of that group. A 2008 ad campaign for Absolut vodka provides
an interesting case study regarding the ability for a humorous ad to create
very different responses among audience members outside its intended
country.
Absolut vodka was launched in 1979 by parent company V&S Vin &
Spirit AB based in Sweden.2 An innovative ad campaign soon followed
featuring the Absolut bottle as art. The ads showed the Absolut bottle in a
variety of creative ways and the words Absolut _____. For example, a swim-
ming pool shaped like an Absolut bottle was shown in an ad along with the
phrase ‘Absolut L.A.’. In another ad, the Absolut bottle is adorned with
lights and decorations like a Christmas tree accompanied with the phrase
‘Absolut Joy’. This campaign ultimately resulted in over 1,200 individual
ad executions. In 1999, Advertising Age magazine named the Absolut ad
campaign as one of the ten best ad campaigns of the twentieth century.
In 2007, V&S Vin & Spirit AB decided to change the campaign. The new
concept was an ‘Absolut World’. In the Absolut World everything is better.
Politicians grow long Pinocchio-like noses when they lie. Police and protest-
ers fight with pillows. Factory smokestacks do not belch smoke; instead they
produce soap bubbles like a child’s toy. Early in 2008 an ad in this series
featured a redrawn map of North America (see Figure 1.1). This map shows
the border between the USA and Mexico where it was in 1821when Mexico
received its independence from Spain. In 1836 Texas declared independ-
ence from Mexico. Mexico did not recognize this independence. The
annexation of Texas by the USA in 1845 was viewed by the Mexican govern-
ment as an aggressive act. This led to the Mexican-American War, which
lasted from 1846 to 1848. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848 ended
the war. The provisions of this treaty called for Mexico to cede the land
of present-day Arizona, California, New Mexico, and parts of Colorado,
Nevada and Utah in exchange for 15 million dollars in compensation and

Figure 1.1 Absolut ad, Teran/TBWA, Mexico City 2008.
forgiveness of Mexican debt to US citizens. There remains a deep-seated

bitterness in some about the aftermath of the Mexican-American War.
Many Mexicans and Americans of Mexican descent believe that much of
the land that comprises the US southwest was stolen from Mexico.
The Absolut ad that features the 1821 map was produced by Teran/TBWA
in Mexico City as a print and outdoor campaign. The campaign did not
run in the USA. This campaign, however, sparked heated comments on
many US-based websites. The consumer backlash prompted Absolut to
post the following statement on its consumer inquiry phone line in April
2008, ‘In no way was it (the ad) meant to offend or disparage, nor does
it advocate an altering of borders, nor does it lend support to any anti-
American sentiment, nor does it reflect immigration issues’ (Associated
Press as posted on FoxNews.com, 2008). In a statement regarding the ad
‘Absolut said the ad was designed for a Mexican audience and intended to

recall “a time which the population of Mexico might feel was more ideal.”’
‘As a global company, we recognize that people in different parts of the
world may lend different perspectives or interpret our ads in a different way
than was intended in that market, and for that we apologize.’ (Associated
Press as posted on FoxNews.com, 2008).
Even after the ad campaign ended, the controversy surrounding the ad
continued. On the Los Angeles Times blog (LA Times Blogs 2008) the
results of an online poll showed the following responses:
The ad is great. I’ll buy Absolut Vodka 9.2%

The ad is an affront to Americans. I’m going to
boycott the product 61.7%
It’s funny 6.5%
It’s stupid 9.5%
Who cares? 13.1%
In addition to the online poll, the blog allowed postings from readers.
As of July 2008 the blog contained well over 1,000 postings comprising
over 320 pages of comments regarding the ad (LA Times Blogs 2008). The
debate produced passionate responses on both sides. Some comments
included the following (reproduced exactly as posted):
Does anybody know where I can get a copy of the ad? I would like to make
it a huge banner and put it in my front yard, so everybody can see what
was taken from us. Well done Absolut . . . I’ll drink you forever.
Awsome ad! They stole our territory, you read correctly STOLE! That
ads only makes justice.
Excellent ad, the real america, before that the yanke take part of Mexico
like a thief, the richest part, besides to be a thief you are racist. But in the
deeply you know that you are on Mexico in the old Mexico and this is a
part that will never change.
We need another EL ZORRO to defeat gringos in California. JAJA We
will re-conquest genetically our stoled land!! JAJA
If you were to see the way in which mexican immigrants have virtually
destroyed quality of life in southern california and if you were truly
aware of the intense hatred and hostility these people feel towards white
americans then you would understand how reprehensible this absolut
ad is, not that there’s any such thing as a good ad for liquid poison.

That map is Mexico’s worst nightmare. They can’t manage the land they
have now. They live on remittances sent home by the (legal and illegal)
immigrants who live in the USA . . .
Don’t they understand that the lifestyle and standard of living in these
places aren’t necessarily related to the land itself? The difference between
Tiajuana and San Diego isn’t geographic, it’s demographic. IMO. Sorry.
Absolut should show a map of Europe with Alsace-Lorraine as a part of
Germany and see how that goes down. Maybe a map of Japan which
includes Manchuria. Maybe a map where Israel does not exist. Inflaming
border passions. Brilliant. I will never buy anything from Absolut ever
again.
The framework discussed earlier of humour agent, audience and humour

object helps explain the difficulty when any cultural boundary is crossed. In
the Absolut example we have a European brand of Vodka (agent), using
the USA as the butt of the humour (object) for a campaign intended for
consumers in Mexico (audience). With the USA as the butt of the joke, we
would of course expect the favourable responses from a Mexican national
or anti-American audience. Attitudes of Mexicans towards Absolut (the
agent) would be expected to rise as they negatively portray an object (the
US) which many Mexicans may already view with suspicion and resentment.
The example helps illustrate that in a global world, unintended audiences,
in this case US consumers, can see an ad and take offense at being the
butt of the joke which they were never intended to see and which is not
perceived as humour by many Americans. Absolut, the humour source,
developing what they view as playful satirical humour is blindsided by
Americans who perceive the ads as aggressive, offensive and anti-American.
Unlike a comedian telling a joke with a relatively known audience in a
nightclub setting, ads literally cross boundaries at the speed of light in
today’s electronic communication era. The joke worked for Mexicans and
perhaps other anti-American audiences, but the red flag of caution tells us
that audience boundaries are porous which can cause ads to fail with other
important audiences which Absolut probably views as a large and important
market. As we noted in citing earlier research, attempts at humour that fail
to be seen as humorous can have unintended negative effects. These effects
for Absolut are manifest in many of the blog comments noted above.
Although the Absolut ad demonstrates how powerful boundaries can
exist with regard to humour in advertising, humour can, on occasion, cross
these boundaries. The award winning Whassup campaign used by Budweiser

in 2000 was based on a short film called ‘True’. The film, and the first ad of
the series, featured a black cast and introduced the catch phrase ‘whassup’.
According to Elijah Anderson, expert on urban culture, this informality
and unity captures something unique to black people (Fahri 2000). Several
variations of the ads were ultimately produced. These proved to have
broad appeal and that transcended mere advertising to become a cultural
phenomenon. In this case urban culture was not seen as being ridiculed
as was the USA in the Absolut ads. On the contrary, it was being held up
as cool to the point where people of different ethnicities were playfully
using whassup as a greeting. A less skilful execution of the campaign with
different racial portrayals and fewer play signals could easily have used
urban culture as the butt of a joke and ridiculed it. A campaign widely seen
as humorous could have been interpreted as an offensive racist campaign
by minority audiences.
2. Humor versus Humour
It has been said that the USA and the United Kingdom are two nations
separated by a common language. Indeed, even though English is the
dominant language of both nations, and the two countries have strong
cultural ties, differences regarding humour are notable (see Figure 1.2).
According to a recent web-based study that attracted more than 40,000
jokes and nearly two million ratings, people from the UK, along with those
from Australia, New Zealand and the Republic of Ireland prefer jokes
involving wordplay. On the other hand, people from the USA and Canada
prefer superiority oriented jokes (CNN 2002). This may be a superficial
difference, however, since wordplay may be seen as a form of intellectual
superiority (Gruner 2000).
Word usage also differs among English speaking countries. Australian
slang such as ‘tall poppy’ (a derisive term for a successful person), ‘Adam’s
ale’ (water), ‘she’ll be apples’ (everything will be alright), ‘gone troppo’
(mad, especially heat-related tropical madness) are unfamiliar to most
English speaking people outside of Australia. British slang phrases such as,
‘Bob’s your uncle’ (that’s it), ‘horses for courses’ (each to his own), ‘at her
Majesty’s pleasure’ (be sent to jail) are meaningless to most people in the
USA. Colloquial language generally does not cross cultural lines. For exam-
ple, an ad for a women’s health club in the UK invited readers to, ‘visit the
ladies without spending a penny’. Readers in the UK understand that
‘spend a penny’ is a slang term for taking a trip to the lavatory (toilet). ‘The
ladies’ is a euphemism for the lavatory. For these readers, the ad makes

Figure 1.2 Context dependent humour, M&C Saatchi, London 1996. The
attempted visual humour in this Silk Cut ad would be lost on those without the
needed context of earlier Silk Cut campaigns.
use of double entendre humour. For most readers in the US, the ad would
simply be an offer for a complementary visit to a ladies health club, with
no humorous intent.
The differences between Australian word usage and UK word usage
was highlighted by an Australian ad campaign. Tourism Australia began a
global campaign created by M&C Saatchi that included the tagline, ‘So
where the bloody hell are you?’ (see Figure 1.3). The campaign ran in the
USA and in New Zealand without controversy. However, in 2006 when the
campaign was to begin in the UK it was initially prohibited from broadcast
by the UK’s Broadcast Advertising Clearance Centre (BACC) because the
use of the word ‘bloody’ was considered offensive. The word bloody, which
is considered very mildly naughty in Australia, is considered offensive in the
UK. In fact, it is the 27th most offensive word on the BACC’s banned
word list (slightly less offensive than ‘crap’ which is ranked 26th) (The Age
2006). The ban was ultimately lifted and the ad was allowed to run. In July
of 2008, the Tourism Australia campaign was awarded to DDB Interna-
tional, replacing M&C Saatchi. Managing director of the Sydney office of
DDB said, ‘We have no plans to use any profanities’ (Jackson 2008).

Figure 1.3 Australian Tourism Ad, M&C Saatchi, Sydney 2006.
Weinberger and Spotts (1989) also found differences in perceptions of

humour among US and UK advertising executives. British advertising prac-
titioners were more favourable to the use of humour and, not surprisingly,
humour usage levels in the UK were found to be higher than those in the
USA. A more recent study found no significant difference in overall humour
usage levels between the US and UK (28 per cent and 33 per cent respec-
tively) (Toncar 2001). However, Toncar (2001) found significant differ-
ences in the nature of humour use. Ads in the UK were far more likely to
make use of understatement while US ads were significantly more likely to
use jokes. In the UK, humour played a central role in the ad significantly
more often than in the USA, and was integrated with the product more
often (Toncar 2001).
3. Paradox of Humour
Humour is a paradox. It is universal, and it is individualized. It is found

in every culture throughout history. Yet it is specific to time and place.
Laughter is social yet humour is personal. While humour is a natural
human trait, response to specific humour executions is a learned behaviour.

Figure 1.4 Widely understood humour, McCann Erickson, New York 1994. The
visual humour in this Smirnoff ad works because the playful incongruity uses a
context that has widely held meaning across many borders.
In fact, a study of twins found that differences in perception of humour

were due entirely to environmental factors (Viegas 2000). Genetic factors
did not appear to play any role (Viegas 2000). Sense of humour differs from
most personality traits in this regard (Muir 2000).
4. Conclusion
Humour in advertising is a very complex process which depends on a

humorous interpretation of numerous factors. Very subtle differences in
word choice, tone of voice and inflection can change a serious statement
into sarcasm, satire, parody or some other form of humour. Thus the ability
of humour to cross borders and other boundaries is limited by its ability
to capitalize subtle signals of language as well as on who or what is the
focus of the humour (see Figure 1.4). As one of the jurors at the Cannes
advertising festival stated, ‘Humour travels, but it sometimes gets a bit car
sick’ (Archer 1994).
Notes
1
This chapter borrows significant material from, Charles S. Gulas and Marc G. Weinberger
(2006) Humor in Advertising: A Comprehensive Analysis. Armonk, New York M.E. Sharpe.
2
V&S Vin & Spirit AB was acquired by Pernod Ricard in 2008.

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Chapter 2
Humour in Translated Cartoons and Comics

Federico Zanettin
Cartoons and comics are often closely associated with humour. However,
while most cartoons are certainly humorous, humour is not a defining
feature of comics at large. The word ‘comics’ can in fact be considered a
misnomer (Eisner 2004: 16) since as Heer and Worcester (2009: XIII)
argue, ‘[t]he term suggests a humorous intent that is inconsistent with
the actual content of many, perhaps most, comic strips, comic books and
graphic novels.’ So, while many comics genres exist which are not humorous
at all (Zanettin 2008a), humour cuts across formats and genres in comics
as in written texts and cinema. In what follows, I will make a distinction
between the translation of humour in cartoons and the translation of humour
in comic strips and comic books, highlighting differences and similarities.
1. Cartoons and Humour
According to some scholars, cartoons do not really count as ‘comics’ in that

they lack the distinguishing feature of comics, that is the elliptical gap
between panels which are part of a narrative sequence (e.g. McCloud 1993).
Others, however, do not regard this as a defining trait of the ‘ninth art’ or
question the existence of a sharp-cut distinction between cartoons and
comics (e.g. Harvey 2009). Whatever the case, the close relationship
between cartoons and comics is apparent from the fact that the two terms
are sometimes used interchangeably, and that many authors do in fact
practice both forms.
According to the online Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary the noun ‘cartoon’,
apart from its technical and original sense of ‘preparatory drawing’ and as
a shorthand/synonym for ‘strip cartoon’/‘comic strip’ and for ‘animated
cartoon’, can be defined as ‘a drawing intended as satire, caricature, or
humor’. A caricatural (or ‘cartoony’) style of drawing is a characteristic
of most, if not all, cartoons, and it is used in many comics and animated

Humour in Translated Cartoons and Comics 35
cartoons to obtain humorous effects. This can in fact be seen as the main
reason why the term cartoon is sometimes used to refer also to comics and
animation.
Also noticeable is that there is no mention of the use of verbal communi-
cation in this definition.1 Cartoons are first of all a form of visual humour,
and this is an important aspect to keep in mind when considering how
humour is or can be translated in cartoons and comics more in general.
When applied to the print media, the word cartoon usually refers to a
single-panel drawing, often accompanied by a caption and/or sometimes
including one or more balloons. Cartoons are usually characterized as
either gag cartoons or editorial cartoons, the latter focusing on social and
political concerns and often using elements of irony, satire and parody.2
Harvey (2009) traces the origins of the present ‘gag cartoon’ back to the
first half of the nineteenth century, when the word cartoon was first used in
its modern sense on the pages of the British Punch magazine. The conven-
tional format in which cartoons appeared was that of the ‘illustrated dia-
logue’, with a caption containing a dialogue between two characters and a
drawing depicting them. The drawing had mostly a decorative purpose, the
humour springing essentially from the dialogues. The picture would usually
function as an illustration, while the humour would work also without the
picture. The modern ‘gag cartoon’ was developed in the 1920s in US maga-
zines, notably The New Yorker. The typical format is that of the single-speaker
cartoon, in which images and words blend to create a type of humour which
is specific to the medium. According to Harvey (2009: 29):
cartoonists had discovered that all cartoons – not just visual puns – were
funnier if the humor arose from joining picture to words in such a way
that the one ‘explained the other’. In this form, gag cartooning achieves
its apotheosis when neither the picture nor the words have humorous
meaning alone. The picture sidles into a reader’s consciousness as a kind
of visual puzzle, meaningless until reading the caption ‘explains’ it. The
picture likewise ‘explains’ the caption. Either way, as comprehension
dawns – the flash of an instant – the humor is revealed, and the revela-
tion, coming, as it does, suddenly, gives comic impact to the combined
‘meaning’ of the visual-verbal blend.
Not all cartoons correspond to this pattern, and in some humour may rely
predominantly or exclusively on the drawing – as in wordless cartoons,
while in others it may rely predominantly on words. However, because of
its very existence the (often caricatural) drawing provides a visual context

which forces a particular interpretation. In other words, even though in

some cartoons the text in the caption or in the balloon may appear to be
humorous even if taken out of the context of the drawing, some kind of
verbal description would have to be given to replace that context, and
such verbal contextualization may not produce the same humorous effect
of the cartoon.
While not all of them humorous, cartoons are a prototypical humorous
discourse genre, and they were in fact used, together with written jokes,
as humour stimuli in the well-known 3 WD humour appreciation test (e.g.
Ruch 1992; Ruch and Hehl 1998). In this research, a large sample of car-
toons and jokes was submitted to raters who evaluated them along scales
of funniness and aversiveness. On the basis of their findings, Ruch and
Hehl (1998) classify jokes and cartoons into two main categories according
to their structural properties, those factoring incongruity-resolution humour
and those factoring nonsense humour.3 In cartoons belonging to the first
category humour is based on a ‘surprising incongruity [which] can be com-
pletely resolved. The common element in this type of humour is that the
recipient first discovers an incongruity which is then fully resolvable upon
consideration of information available elsewhere in the joke or the car-
toon’ (Ruch and Hehl 1998: 114). In cartoons belonging to the second
category the surprising incongruity is instead only partially solved or not
solved at all, or it may create new absurdities or incongruities.
Humour in cartoons has also been analysed applying the well-known
linguistic theory of humour developed in Raskin’s (1985) Semantic Script
Theory of Humour (SSTH) and later revised as the General Theory of Verbal
Humour (GTVH) by Attardo and Raskin (1991). Since this theory has
had various applications in Translation Studies (Attardo’s 2002 essay on
‘Translation and humor’ is perhaps the most widely cited reference) and
before looking at how it has been applied to the translation of humour
in cartoons and comics (Paolillo 1998; Kaponen 2004; El-Arousy 2007),
it seems worthwhile to summarize it briefly here.
According to the GTVH humour is the product of a basic mechanism
called Script Opposition. This states that humour arises from the incongru-
ity of two different scripts which are compatible and overlap in the same
text (Raskin 1985: 99). Five additional parameters known as Knowledge
Resources are involved in the production of humour, namely the Logical
Mechanism which explains the incongruity, the Situation in which it takes
place, the Target or ‘butt of the joke’, the Narrative Strategy, and the
Language or verbal formulation. Knowledge resources are organized in a
hierarchical structure which allows for a high level of formalization.

The GTVH was originally conceived to provide an interpreting tool for

the understanding of jokes, and its proponents have stressed the linguistic
perspective adopted by the theory. However, the theory has also been
applied to other verbal genres as well as to other semiotic systems and to
types of humour not exclusively verbal,4 such as cartoons.
Paolillo (1998), for instance, applies the GTVH to an analysis of Gary
Larson’s Far Side cartoons, and classifies a sample of 800 Far Side cartoons
into three resolution types, according to whether the incongruous situation
is resolved fully, partially or not at all. In order to adapt the GTVH to
cartoons and distinguish between full/part/no resolution tokens, Paolillo
retains only part of the model, namely the Script Opposition and Logical
Mechanisms presiding over the resolution of ambiguities, and the Target,
which were found to significantly correlate with these three resolution
types. Paolillo (1998: 269) argues that a specification of the other Knowl-
edge Resources is redundant in the analysis of cartoons, since the most
common Narrative Strategy in cartoons is a visual representation of a real-
life Situation, which usually corresponds to one of the scripts of the Script
Opposition. As far as Language manipulation is concerned, this is not ‘a
thorough-going characteristic of Far Side humor [and is] generally involved
in one of the two opposed scripts’ (Paolillo 1998: 269).
Using the GTVH Koponen (2004) compares humour in source and
target texts for Finnish translations of English wordplays in Disney comics.
Koponen analyses humorous comics rather than cartoons, but she restricts
her analysis to a corpus of 56 single panels from Donald Duck comics
containing instances of wordplay. She does not consider humour not
primarily based on verbal language. English and Finnish panels are com-
pared using a further adaptation of Paolillo’s adaptation of the GTVH. In
her analytical model Koponen agrees with Paolillo in finding the Situation
parameter redundant, but chooses to retain the Language and Narrative
Strategy parameters and drop the Target parameter: ‘Language is a parti-
cularly important feature in the case of wordplay, while some interesting
points may be raised by analysing the visual element of Narrative Strategy
in comics. On the other hand, none of the analyses of Target provided
interesting or important results in the material used for this study’
(Koponen 2004: 62).
Finally, El-Arousy (2007) discusses her English translations of some
Egyptian newspaper cartoons. She analyses the cartoons using an adapted
version of the GTVH which increases rather then decreases the number
of variables since, in order to take into account the visual dimension
of cartoons, the Narrative Strategy parameter is replaced by a Semiotic

Strategy parameter and ‘to the language parameters “drawings” has been
added’ (El-Arousy 2007: 301). El-Arousy proposes to use this adapted
model to analyse and translate cartoons as a language learning activity
which, she argues, would constitute ‘a very good practice for ESL [English
as a Second Language], EFL [English as a Foreign Language], and AFL
[Arabic as a Foreign Language] learners, as well as for the students of
linguistics and translation classes’ (El-Arousy 2007: 314).
The three studies examined identify in all cartoons and single comics
panels a basic Script Opposition and a Logical Mechanism presiding over
it. The remaining four Knowledge Resources are either put in the back-
ground as irrelevant for the analysis at hand (namely Situation, Narrative
Strategy and Language for Paolillo, and Target for Koponen) or ‘enriched’
by additional parameters to account for the wider semiotic context
(El-Arousy). There does not seem to be a strict hierarchical or consistent
organization of these parameters, as the GTVH suggests there should
(Attardo 2002).
Both Paolillo and Kaponen emphasize that in most cases the humorous
effect is based on the opposition between a visual and a verbal script.
According to Paolillo, most of Gary Larson’s cartoons are based on this
kind of script opposition, with the incongruity between visual and verbal
being usually resolved. Koponen states that quite often in her corpus (in
42 out of 111 cases) the wordplays ‘arise from the combination of the word
and image in a way that would not happen with the text alone’ (Koponen
2004: 69–70). The relation between the two is one in which the two scripts
are brought in opposition, for instance when as often happens ‘the visual
element gives an alternate, often more concrete, interpretation of the
more figurative textual element’ (ibid: 70). Thus, its seems that even in
humorous panels selected because they contained an instance of verbal
humour (i.e. a wordplay or pun), humour is often generated by the
interplay of visual and verbal messages.
According to some critics it is doubtful whether the GTVH can be
extended to the analysis of humour outside of jokes. Norrick (2004: 402),
for instance, argues that since the GTVH – as the name implies and the
authors of the theory explicitly state – has been developed only with
reference to verbal humour, it
obviously disregards slapstick, sketches, caricatures, cartoons, and the

like, but it also excludes more jokes and related facets of humor than
one probably initially imagines. Moreover, it is not clear how or even if
semantic script theory can extend to cover non-verbal humor’.

Also according to Krikmann (2006) the model elaborated by Raskin and

Attardo for the analysis of jokes is not extendable to other kinds of humour,
both verbal and non-verbal5.
Since humour in cartoons is not only, even not predominantly, verbal, it
would seem that the GTVH cannot be appropriate to fully account for
humour in them.
2. Cartoons in Translation
Cartoons are, like jokes, one form of communication which tend to resist
translation. The ‘untranslatability’ of cartoons does not, however, depend
exclusively or even predominantly on words. When a cartoon is seen/read
by a reader who is not familiar with the cultural references represented in
the picture, even if the words ‘make sense’ in relation to it, this may result
in incomprehension. The cartoon does not work; it does not make one
laugh. Whether a cartoon published in a foreign country will produce
a humorous response will often depend on the target readers sharing
the same set of cultural resources, including knowledge, assumptions,
stereotypes, visual culture etc. as the source readers, thus being in a posi-
tion to identify the two incongruous visual and verbal scripts, the logical
mechanism and the ‘butt of the joke’.
Not only may a translated cartoon not be perceived as humorous by the
target reader, if it is it may invoke a type of humour different from that of
the source cartoon. The starting point of Paolillo’s (1998) discussion is that
his findings are in disagreement with those of Köhler and Ruch (1994).
The two scholars, who submitted a sample of 8 Far Side cartoons to 79
German raters in order to test the validity of the 3 WD test, claimed that the
Far Side cartoons exemplify the ‘nonsense’ type of humour (i.e. that in
which ambiguities are not or only partially resolved). While Paolillo’s main
concern is not translation per se, he argues that Köhler and Ruch’s results
may be skewed in part because of the very small sample used, but also that
the discrepancy of findings may be the result of the cartoons being read in
a different cultural context, that is in translation. The German raters, he
argues, were likely to lack the knowledge of crucial cultural aspects such as
those regarding culture-specific stereotypes informing the target of humour
in the cartoons. As a consequence, they were likely to perceive as nonsen-
sical the humour in cartoons in which an incongruous situation appears
as fully resolved to an American reader. We may suppose that in some cases
foreign readers of Gary Larson’s cartoons were generally amused by the

‘funny’ picture or wording of the caption, but may otherwise have won-
dered in puzzlement at where the humour lay. The only consolation for
German or Italian readers would be that some cartoons may happen to be
very hard to understand for American readers too, either because based on
very idiosyncratic humor or simply because they read ‘a really weird, obtuse
cartoon that no one understood and wasn’t funny’ (Larson 1989: 157).
It is not clear whether the eight Far Side cartoons used by Köhler and
Ruch contained any words, and if so how these were translated. In the
sample discussed by Paolillo, some cartoons are wordless, while most are
accompanied by a caption and some also contain worded balloons.
In cartoons where humour depends on the opposition between visual
and verbal scripts and unless the drawing is manipulated,6 the verbal com-
ponent is responsible for carrying the weight of the humorous response
in a translation. Since it may be argued that the primary function of a trans-
lated cartoon is the same as its source, that is to be humorous, a translator
will produce a maximally effective translation as long as the humour is pro-
duced by an opposition between the verbal and visual scripts. This could
result in either the same or a different type of opposition, that is when a
cartoon is humorous in the target context it may be because the same script
opposition holds in both source and target contexts but also because a dif-
ferent type of incongruity is established between what is seen and what is
read. The effectiveness of the translation, that is the cartoon being humorous,
may thus be measured by the extent to which an opposition of scripts is
created between images and words, in which pictures and words ‘explain
the other’, regardless of whether it is the ‘same’ as the source text.
In order to maintain the opposition between images and text, a translator
may try, in case a straightforward ‘literal’ translation should not work, to
have the words provide a different explanation of the picture from that
offered in the original publication in the source language. In the cartoon
in Figure 2.1, the image ‘explains’ the words, and the humour hinges on
the opposition between the metaphorical and the literal meaning of the
stock phrase (see Zanettin 1998 for further details). A student proposed,
as an Italian translation, ‘dovresti aspirare a qualcosa di meglio’, literally
‘you should aspire to something better.’ Here the humorous outcome is
invoked by the relation between the verb form ‘aspira’ and ‘aspirapolvere’,
Italian for vacuum cleaner, and the semantic clash this generates (as well
as by the caricatural style of the picture).
When the opposition of scripts is one between visual and verbal signs,
making the incongruity work in translation seems to be the main priority
in order for humour to be present.

Figure 2.1 P. S. Mueller (1989), Playing fast and loose with time and space, p. 3.
If the cartoon were to be published, the Italian translation could possibly

appear in one of two formats. It could either simply replace the English
text in the balloon, as usually happens in comics, or it could be placed as
a ‘subtitle’, that is a caption at the bottom of the cartoon. This second
format is in fact both suggested in cartoon translation as a pedagogical
activity (El-Arousy 2007) and present in actual publishing practice.
For instance, the cartoon in Figure 2.2 was published in the Internazionale
of 5 December 2008 with the following caption ‘Barak Obama nomina
Hillary Clinton segretario di stato. “Era l’unico modo di tenerla lontano.”’
The literal translation of the content of the balloon ‘it was the only way
to keep her at a distance’ is introduced by the sentence ‘Barak Obama
nominates Hillary Clinton Secretary of State.’ Editorial and political car-
toons may be highly embedded in the receiving culture, and often tied to
current political events which may not be as explicit to target language
readers. Here, the explanatory introduction helps to understand the pic-
ture, in which Obama and Clinton are shown in a smiling attitude which is

obviously in contradiction with the subtext provided by the words of the

new president.
The Italian weekly Internazionale publishes a selection of the foreign press,
including editorial cartoons from newspapers and magazines translated
from English, French, German and Spanish. All cartoons are published in
the original, that is including the foreign language content of the balloons,
if any. The caption, sometimes present even where there was none in the
original, may contain not only a more or less literal translation of the for-
eign language content of the caption (if any), but also some additional
words which contextualize the verbal content, for instance by providing an
explanation of the context as in Figure 2.2.
When the strategy used to maintain a meaning relation between words
and pictures is to resort to explanatory notes or material, humour is not
just performed, but also explained, and the translation is overt rather than
covert (House 1981, 1997).
3. Humour in Comic Strips and Books
Newspaper strips include many humorous genres, from familiar comedy to

slapstick humour, to social and political commentary. As in cartoons,
Figure 2.2 Chappatte, International Herald Tribune, 1 December 2008.

humour in comic strips and books may or may not involve verbal communi-
cation and, as in cartoons, it may rely on the conventions of caricature,
pantomime, etc. as well as on comics-specific conventions such as drawn
sounds and onomatopoeia, motion lines, pictograms, etc. (see Zanettin
2008a). However, in comic strips humour relies not only on the incongruity
of visual/verbal signs but is also encased in a specific narrative structure.
Comic strips are usually published in daily newspapers, and they usually
involve a set of semi-fixed characters, having dialogues or monologues
around a recurring set of motives or themes. They consist of a sequence
of usually three or four panels (even though single- and two-panel strips
are not infrequent), in which the first panel sets the scene, the second
and/or third creates the presupposition for humour and the last contains
the ‘punch line’.
Humour is thus also a product of the endless variation around such
themes and motives within a recurring narrative structure. Such a narrative
structure allows for even minimal variation in the drawings, which in some
comic strips may be rather simple or repetitious. In Max Cannon’s Red
Meat, for instance, the characters are almost always represented in the same
posture, with very little or no background, and with an almost total lack
of movement of the characters from panel to panel (see Figure 2.3).7
Even so, in Red Meat the humour is not just verbally expressed but lies
in the contradiction between the characters, who look like small town
Americans from the 1950s drawn in a precise retro-style, and the dialogues,
which are ‘[a]bout as far from political correctness as it’s possible to get’
(Marshall 1999: online). The two-dimensional silhouettes of Milkman Dan
Figure 2.3 Max Cannon, Red Meat, 15 February 1999.

Figure 2.4 Gary Trudeau, Doonesbury, 6 November, 2008.
and the priest (see Figure 2.3) and even the disquieting appearance of
other characters sporting no reassuring smile contrasts with the surreal
dialogues, usually involving cruel hobbies, sexual fetishes, alcohol and
drugs or some disgusting anecdote. The lack of movement – often only
the size, shape and content of the balloons change from one panel to the
other – detaches the characters from the absurd and grotesque events in
which they are involved, while the three-panel sequence provides a struc-
ture which builds up to the ‘punchline’ in the last panel. The narrative
structure of many comic strips is visual before it is verbal. In quite a few of
Gary Trudeaus’s Doonesbury strips (see Figure 2.4), for instance, the prevail-
ing visual pattern is that of a four-panel strip, the third of which stands out
from the rest, being a two-tone silhouette, a wordless or borderless panel,
etc., or a combination of some or all of these. Similar techniques are used
in many other humorous strips.
In comic books and graphic novels humour may be located in single
panels or short sequences of panels. However, in longer narrations such
as Astérix and Disney stories humour is not only found at specific points in
the narration but is more generally a property of the text, both as concerns
the drawings, for instance through the use of caricatural rather than of
realistic style, and the language, for instance through the use of a peculiar
speaking style.
4. Humour in Translated Comics
Most literature on the translation of humour in comics focuses on verbally

expressed humour such as puns, jokes, proper names, spoonerisms, etc.
(e.g. Hartmann 1982; Embleton 1991; Campos Pardillos 1992; Valero-
Garcés 1996; Koponen 2004; Delesse 2008). In such studies, as in Harvey’s

(1995) study of compensation in the translation of humour in Astérix, the

medium appears to be incidental, to the extent that wordplays are not
specific to comics, nor one of their defining features. However, granted
the focus on verbal features as a starting point for their research, most of
these studies do not restrict their analysis to words but consider how
written text interacts with its visual context.
The translation of cartoons and comics has often been discussed in the
framework of ‘constrained translation’ (Mayoral et al. 1988), which sees the
visual component of comics as a constraint to the translation of the verbal
component. However, non-verbal signs such as drawings, colours, layout,
etc. are in fact often manipulated in translated comics (Zanettin 2008a),
and the choice not to retouch a panel rather than a constraint should
perhaps be seen as a choice dictated not only by economical considerations
and technical limitations, but also as a ‘stylistic option’ implemented at the
more general level of the ‘adaptation’ or ‘localization’ process of comics
(Jüngst 2008; Zanettin 2008b). Even in cases in which only the verbal con-
tent of balloons and captions is replaced, images can be seen both helping
and hindering the translator’s task. As Koponen (2004: 80–1), with refer-
ence to the translation of wordplays, puts it (see also Celotti 2008),
On the one hand, the images certainly limit the modifications the transla-
tor can make, and the target text may not work if the translator has not
taken into account the effect of the images. But on the other hand, if the
translator is skilled at reading the picture as well as the text, possibilities
to create innovative wordplay from the images may present themselves.
In one of the few studies which attempt to provide a general framework

for the translation of humour in comics from a wider semiotic perspective,
Kaindl (2004) proposes a descriptive taxonomy of procedures. The classifi-
cation is based on a distinction between monomodal humour, based only
on either verbal or visual humour stimuli, and multimodal humour, based
on a combination of both. Both can be either translated or not in the target
text, and humour can also appear in places where no humour is there
in the source text. When translated, multimodal humour can be either
translated with multimodal humour or with monomodal humour. In the
latter case, a humour stimulus is provided in translation only by either the
image or the words, but it does not make sense in relation to the other.
Monomodal humour, in turn, can also be translated with monomodal or
multimodal humour. Considering all possible combinations, including
cases where the humour depends exclusively on linguistic wordplay, where

translation ‘is not very different from translation of humour in non-

pictorial texts’ (Kaindl 2004: 176), Kaindl comes up with eight possible
translation strategies, each illustrated through examples taken from comic
strips and books translated into German.
In wordless cartoons, unless pictures are modified, humour may not
be translated, that is omitted because the target readers are unable to
interpret culture-specific pictorial elements and intertextual allusions; or it
can be translated with a different type of humour, for instance as nonsense
as opposed to incongruity resolution humour as suggested by Paolillo
(1998). When humour depends on the mixing and blending of pictures
and words, there can be three different outcomes: the translation may be
humorous by preserving the incongruity between pictorial and verbal
elements, either maintaining or changing the verbal and/or the pictorial
content; it may be humorous, but change the type of humour from incon-
gruity-resolution to nonsense (or vice versa), because the words don’t bear
the same relation to the pictures as in the source publication; finally, it
may omit the humour altogether, either by maintaining or changing the
verbal content.
In comic books, as opposed to strips and cartoons, we can have not only
instances of omission but also of compensation, in cases where an instance
of humour in the translated text did not directly originate from something
humorous in the source text. Delesse (2008), for instance, discusses various
examples of humour compensation in the British translation of the Astérix
series, while Koponen (2004) reports various instances of both omission
and compensation in her corpus of puns in parallel comics. She also notes
that in the Disney comics translated in the 1950s in Finland half of the
instances of wordplay were lost, and compensation was infrequent. She
argues that this may be because ‘[i]n this decade comics were aimed exclu-
sively at children, and it is possible that children were not expected to
grasp the multiple meanings necessary for wordplay’ (Koponen 2004: 81).
In translations from the 1990s the percentage of omissions is lower, and
that of compensations is higher. Koponen suggests that this may be the
result of a change in the norms for translating comics and translating
wordplay in comics. Over time translators have come to ‘consider wordplay
increasingly more important, taking advantage of places where it is possi-
ble, compensating for cases that have been lost and adding wordplay to
the original stories’ (Koponen 2004: 7).
As in cartoons, in translated comics the humour effect depends to a
large extent on the target readers being aware of visual and verbal cul-
tural references. For instance, the humour of Halloween-related strips in

Charles M. Schultz’s Peanuts was probably partly lost or altered in the Italian
translations published in the 1960s. The ritual of ‘treat or trick’ and the
theme of Charlie Brown waiting for the Great Pumpkin were mostly
unknown to Italian readers of the time. Whether one feels that the Italian
translation of Great Pumpkin from the 1960s – Grande Cocomero, literally
Great Watermelon – was successful or not, it would certainly be anachronis-
tic today, when Halloween is celebrated even in Italy as part of the ‘global
culture’. In fact, the translation of the Peanuts strips was itself instrumental,
together with other ‘popular culture’ artefacts, to introducing Halloween
in the Italian culture, as testified also by the phrase ‘dolcetto o scherzetto’
(the translation of ‘trick or treat’ in Peanuts) becoming part of standard
Italian. A similar example is reported by Kaindl (2004) with reference to
the German translations of Peanuts. In a country in which the game of
American football is not part of the culture, the running gag of Lucy hold-
ing the ball for Charlie Brown only to pull it away whenever he tries to kick
it does not make much sense. In the German version the drawings were
retouched and the oval ball was replaced by the round ball used for soccer.
However, since the rules of soccer ‘do not permit players to touch the ball,
the act of holding the ball appears unmotivated or serves no purpose other
than pulling it away, thus rendering the gag much less effective’ (Kaindl
2004: 185). Regardless of whether the translation of the verbal content is
considered more or less successful (in whatever way this may be measured),
humour in comics relies to a large extent on understanding and being part
of a culture. According to Diot (1989), for instance, Trudeau’s strip was less
popular outside of the USA, including Britain and other English-speaking
countries, because its humour is very culture-specific and it implies a level
of participation and a ritual of purification which is often lacking in non-US
citizens. Diot argues that this humorous dimension is lost to someone out-
side that culture. A foreigner can only appreciate the satirical dimension of
the comic strip, while the humour brought about by the graphic and verbal
representation of the ‘American way of life’ is untranslatable.
The strategies and norms used to translate comic books differ from
those used in the translation of cartoons and strips. This can be seen for
instance as regards the strategy of adding explanatory material in transla-
tion. Foreign editions may resort not only to a translation of the verbal
content, but also to explanatory notes or paratextual material such as
glossaries in order to provide target readers with the knowledge necessary
to understand humorous incongruities which would otherwise be lost in
translation. The use of this strategy, which tends to explain humour rather
than be humorous in itself, may perhaps be more frequently resorted to in

the translation of cartoons and strips than in the translation of comic books,
since there humour is the main priority. When publishing a comic book
there may be other concerns in the general economy of the translation
which justify the choice to omit instances of ‘local’ humour. As with written
literature and cinema when translating humour in comics ‘we need to know
where humor stands as a priority and what restrictions stand in the way of
fulfilling the intended goals’ (Zabalbeascoa 2005: 201).
5. Conclusions
Attardo (2002) argues that the GTVH already incorporates a simple theory
of humour translation, since a change in the Language Knowledge Resource
can be implied in humour-producing mechanisms as it is in translation.
According to Attardo (2002), the GTVH is especially suitable to account for
the translation of humour in that it can provide a metric of similarity across
jokes in source and target languages. If jokes can be analysed according to
the six Knowledge Resources and these are hierarchically organized, it
should be possible to measure their similarity in translation, that is whether
the change involves only the Language Knowledge Resource or also higher
ranking parameters. However, it seems difficult to rigidly apply this mecha-
nism to translated cartoons and comics. The GTVH can certainly be very
useful in providing a general framework for understanding humour in
comics, but it needs to be adapted to take into account a medium which is
visual rather than simply verbal. Furthermore, it does not seem easy to
draw clear cut distinctions between the different parameters (Knowledge
Resources) beyond the identification of a Logical Mechanism presiding
over the incongruity displayed by images and words, and possibly the iden-
tification of a Target. Since this adaptation of the theory does not reproduce
the same hierarchical configuration of Knowledge Resources found in
jokes, it cannot provide a ‘metric of similarity’ for translated cartoons.
In cartoons, as in jokes, humour is usually based on some kind of incon-
gruity which readers expect to find within the drawing itself or between
visual and verbal signs. Words, if present, orient the reader to one of the
partly overlapping scripts. In some cases the humour may be based almost
exclusively on the language itself, but this kind of humour in comics seems
to be restricted mostly to wordplay (which is not in itself a distinguishing
feature of comics nor of humour in comics), or to cartoons which do not
fully exploit the potential of the medium, as argued by Harvey (2009). Even
when the drawings are very simple, in most comics humour is the result of

the simultaneous apprehension of the image and the words (if any) within
the image. Humour is never just in the words, it is in who says them.
Even more problematic seems the application of the GTVH to the trans-
lation of comic strips and books, since it is doubtful whether the GTVH
can be used to analyse non-‘joke-like’ forms of humour more in general.
According to Chiaro (2005: online):
‘while on the one hand the GTVH is convincing, perhaps its most signi-
ficant shortcoming is that it only appears to account for VEH [Verbally
Expressed Humor] to a limited extent. As long as we apply it to clearly
definable phenomena such as paranomasia (puns) in the widest possible
sense, or irony and popular joke narratives based on semantic duplicity
(light-bulb jokes, blonde jokes etc.) the theory works, but it falls short
in accounting for the copious examples of VEH which escape such
categorizations’
and Zabalbeascoa (2005: 202) argues that the GTVH
‘only seem to take into consideration joke-texts, i.e. jokes that make up
the whole text, but their validity does not seem so apparent for trans-
lating jokes or other forms of humor that are items of a larger text’.
Humour in comics, both because it relies on visual resources and because

it is part of longer narrations, escapes rigid categorizations.
Notes
1
For similar definitions see the entries in the Cambridge Learner’s Dictionary and the Oxford
Advanced Learner’s Dictionary.
2
See Wikipedia’s entry for Cartoon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cartoon).
3
A third category, sexual humour, cuts across the first two and is related to content rather
than to structure.
4
See, for instance, Al-Kharabsheh’s (2008) discussion of unintentional humour in the
translation of Giordanian shop signs.
5
Krikmann lists the following examples: ‘longer humorous texts with a more compound
structure (Morreall 2004: 400; Triezenberg 2004; cf. Attardo 1998 and 2001); [. . .] various
cases of non-verbal humour where the participants are not divided into speakers and
listeners and two-sided interaction is required (Norrick 2004); [. . .] primitive forms of
ancient humour (Morreall 2004).’
6
This option, which is current practice for translated comics (Kaindl 1999; Zanettin 2008a)
is perhaps less resorted to for translated cartoons. The reason is probably that cartoons
which might require modification of the drawings are simply not published in translation.
7
A website has been designed which allows users to ‘Create your own meat’ (at http://
monkeydyne.com/rmcs/buildmeat.html), that is, to create a new strip by selecting two
characters and typing the dialogue in a form. On Max Cannon’s Red Meat see Boegle (2005).

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Chapter 3
And the Oscar Goes to . . . : A Study of the

Simultaneous Interpretation of Humour at
the Academy Awards Ceremony
Rachele Antonini
1. Introduction1
Globalization and the rapid and all-pervasive spread of new media and
digital technologies have contributed to obliterating time and space
barriers thus making the world we live in an increasingly interconnected
place. Live radio, television and internet broadcasting of news, sports,
political, current and entertainment events 24/7 brings a plethora of
information and images directly into our homes from every corner of
the world and at any time of the day. Indeed, over the past few years we
have become accustomed to switching on our TV sets and watching the live
broadcasting of US presidential debates, the Academy Awards red carpet
and ceremony, or any other international event, as they take place. The fact
that these events receive live coverage from all over the world means that
audiences, in order to access and understand what is going on, need these
broadcastings to be translated into their own language. Because of obvious
time constraints live coverage does not go through post-synchronization
processes such as dubbing, subtitling or voice-over, therefore a new profes-
sional figure has emerged, with the role of mediating the linguistic and
verbal part of a foreign programme into another language and for a
different audience: the media interpreter.
This present study provides a description and an analysis of how
interpreters deal with the translation of humour. Generally speaking, the
rendering of humour is universally acknowledged as one of the most diffi-
cult elements to translate; when this operation is then performed in the
course of simultaneous interpreting it becomes an almost impossible feat.
For this reason a case study of three editions of one of the most popular
televised events in the world, the Academy Awards Ceremony (henceforth

AAC), was carried out by means of a questionnaire with the purpose of ana-
lysing how humour is translated by interpreters and how this translation is
perceived by a sample of Italian TV viewers.
The AAC was chosen because it is an event characterized by the extensive
and constant use of humour in the form of puns, jokes and irony that very
often are based on very culture-specific references to American current
events, people and general knowledge.
As I explain in the following paragraphs, one of the main and most
difficult challenges the interpreters had to face, in the course of the pro-
gramme, was the translation of such references and of all the attached
meanings that they evoked in the original target audience.
2. Media Interpreting
The development of new technologies (satellite communications, the

internet, etc.) has made the world a smaller place, therefore it is no longer
surprising to see images broadcasted from far away countries directly into
our homes at all times. Television is the communication medium that led
this revolution by overcoming language and geographic barriers, thus
acquiring an increasingly important role in our society. Thanks to satellites,
internet, cable television and other technologies, today more and more
people can see, in real time, what is happening in other parts of the world.
The main consequence of the time-space compression brought about by
increased interconnectedness and faster-paced life styles (Harvey 1989) has
been, particularly in broadcasting, the need to make audiences partake in
world events as they happen.2 Moreover, the increased presence of foreign
guests (singers, actors, journalists, novelists, etc.) on Italian television shows,
for example singers who want to promote their new CD or actors inter-
viewed during a film festival, puts the producers and hosts of such shows in
the position of providing both on-screen (the host and other participants
to the show) and off-screen participants (e.g. the audience) with instant
access to the conversation, the interview or the speech that is being aired
(Alexieva 2001).
As Bielsa and Bassnett point out ‘in an informational economy charac-
terized by instantaneous access to information worldwide, the objective
of the localization industry becomes simultaneous availability in all the
languages of the product’s target markets’ (2009: 31). Subsequently ‘as
people’s own language continues to be the preferred language for access
into informational goods’ (ibid.) the exponential growth of texts, dialogues

A Study of the Simultaneous Interpretation of Humour 55
and programme formats and/or television events has led to the exponen-
tial increase of products that need to be translated and localized for the
target audiences of the countries that import such programmes.
In order to make these programmes and events accessible to home
audiences, Italian broadcasters generally resort to various forms of transla-
tion such as dubbing, subtitling and voice-over. Quite often they may decide
to resort to the services of a media interpreter.
In general terms, media interpreting can be defined as the monologic
(e.g. the simultaneous interpreting of planned and unplanned media
events such as speeches, declarations, weddings and funerals) and/or
dialogic (consecutive interpreting that may take place, for instance, within
talk shows, at press conferences, interviews and debates) interlinguistic
mediation that takes place mainly, but not exclusively, during radio and
television broadcastings.3 The main factors that contribute to differentiate
media interpreting from other forms of interpreting are based on the
fact that the division between the different interpreting modes is not
always straightforward since ‘dialogue interpreting in talk shows, for
instance, usually involves whispered (simultaneous) interpreting for studio
guests, especially of questions by the host, and a consecutive, or semi-
simultaneous, rendition of foreign-language utterances for the benefit of
the studio and/or broadcast audience’ (Pöchhacker 2007: 2).
Media interpreting is characterized by a series of added constraints that
contribute to even more stress and demands to the work of interpreters
and which distinguish their work from the ‘everyday practice of conference
interpretation’ (Bros-Brann 1994: 1). Indeed, as Bros-Brann states ‘inter-
preting live for television requires special skills, namely even greater rapid-
ity than for normal conference interpretation as well as constraints for
delivery (pleasant lively voice, regular rhythm, good diction)’ (1997: 1).
Viaggio (2001) identifies 11 factors which, in relation to live TV interpreting
and following Kurz’s taxonomy (2002: 195–6), can be grouped into three
categories corresponding to (i) the physical environment, (ii) work-related
factors and (iii) psycho-emotional factors.
3. Previous Research on Media Interpreting
Despite the fact that media settings constitute an increasingly significant

area of practice and research, with specific characteristics and challenges
[and] that media interpreters are often called upon to make international
content, such as news coverage or interviews with guests from abroad,

accessible to domestic audiences (Pöchhacker 2007: 1), very little research

has been carried out on this specific area of interpreting studies in general
and more specifically on television interpreting (Chiaro 2002; Katan and
Straniero-Sergio 2003; Pöchhacker 2007). Indeed, ‘compared with such
major forms of audiovisual translation as dubbing and subtitling, media
interpreting is a relatively marginal domain, in terms of both volume
and scope of application’ (Pöchhacker 2007: 1). Most studies on media
interpreting carried out and published to date are either descriptive in
nature (Alexieva 2001; Mack 2001), questionnaire-based (Kurz 1997;
Chiaro 2002; Mack 2002) or discourse-based (Straniero Sergio 1999, 2003
and 2007; Wadensjö 2008).
However, only a handful of studies have analysed how humour is ren-
dered in simultaneous interpreting, and no attempt has ever been made
to investigate how the recipients of televised events perceive interpreted
humour.
In the case of shows such as the AAC another important added constraint
to the work of the media interpreter is the translation of humour.
It is common knowledge that the translation of humour is one of the
most difficult challenges that a translator has to face in his/her work
(Chiaro 2003). When, in addition, (s)he has to comply with the limits
imposed by specific language transfer modes and processes (such as
dubbing or subtitling) then his/her work becomes an almost impossible
task. As Chiaro clearly explains:
Anyone who has ever tried to translate an English joke into another
language will know that it is no easy task. No matter how well the trans-
lator knows the target language, cultural references and polysemous
items may well involve them in longwinded explanations, after which the
recipient rarely reacts with a laugh. Similarly, when a joke in a foreign
language is translated into English, results tend to be equally disastrous.
Jokes, it would seem, travel badly (1992: 77).
While the perception of humour has been widely studied and researched
in psychology, the perception of translated humour has been largely
neglected over the years, and only recently has it started to be addressed by
scholars (Antonini et al. 2003 and 2005; Bucaria 2005 and 2007; Chiaro
2005; Vandaele 2002).
Likewise, when we start looking into the available literature on the
perception of interpreted humour we realize that this is an even more
neglected and unexplored field of study that has been dealt with by

only a handful of studies (e.g. Viaggio 1996; Pavlicek and Pöchhacker 2002;
Falbo 2007).
These studies identify a number of translational strategies implemented
in order to deal with the rendering of humour into another language,
which, along with the strategies that Chiaro outlines for the translation of
VEH on the screen, that is ‘1) the substitution of VEH in the Source
Language (SL) with an example of VEH in the Target Language (TL); 2)
the replacement of the SL VEH with an idiomatic expression in the TL; 3)
the replacement of the SL VEH with an example of compensatory VEH
elsewhere in the TL text’ (2006: 200), in the case of simultaneous inter-
preting also include other options. Interpreters may opt for:
– providing a literal translation of the humorous remark, even if this may

hinder the understanding of the target audience;
– substituting it with another equivalent humorous remark in the target
language;
– substituting the pun or joke with an idiomatic expression in the target
language;
– omitting the humorous remark from their translation;
– explaining the humorous remarks, thus ruining the humorous effect;
– explaining to the audience that the speaker made a humorous remark
which was omitted by the interpreter because it could not be translated
into the target language.
The analysis of the responses given to the instances of interpreted humour

selected for the purposes of this study highlighted a series of strategies that
the interpreters implemented whenever faced by the task of translating a
humorous remark. The most frequently used were (i) a word-for-word
translation, (ii) the substitution of the single elements on which the humor-
ous remark was based and (iii) the substitution of the original humorous
remark with an alternative one.
4. Humour at the AAC
The AAC is a show characterized by numerous instances of humour. The

fact that the host is very often a comedian is a good measure of how much
audience appreciation is deemed important by the producers of this show.
The AAC is a very long show, full of lengthy and potentially boring stretches
(the presentation of the awards and of the nominees, the viewing of short

trailers and the winners’ speeches are quite repetitive) interspersed with
humorous routines and moments. In order to keep the viewers at home
entertained and to prevent them from changing channel, the show must
offer something that will keep them glued to their TV sets. The use of
humour is the main strategy employed with the aim of entertaining the
viewers and keeping their attention.
The kinds of humour used at the AAC with this purpose are varied,
but the most recurrent are irony, disparagement, sexual allusions and
innuendos, and wordplay; followed by cultural/encyclopaedic references
and anecdotes. The hosts of the various editions usually joke with the actors
and directors present at the event about their small manias and obsessions
(like, for instance, Julia Roberts’s renowned tight-fistedness) or their films.
Moreover, quite often the titles of the films nominated for an award are
used to make allusions or to build wordplay.
It is always a carefully constructed form of humour that does not leave
much space for spur-of-the-moment and unplanned humour.4 The quick
rhythm and pace of the show, which are determined by carefully constructed
and planned puns, jokes, sketches and gags, as well as the frequent word-
plays and allusions to events known only in the States, make the job of
the interpreter even more difficult because it means that (s)he will have
to try to provide a translation in a matter of seconds. Consequently, as the
analysis of the clips used for the purposes of this study will show, inter-
preters usually opted for a verbatim translation that allowed them to trans-
mit the elements of the humorous remarks. Other strategies included
substitution or explicitation.
In the following sections I provide a description of the methodological
tool employed in order to collect data on the perception of interpreted
humour.
5. The Study Design
The AAC is an event that is broadcast live on the ABC Television Network
and in the year 2009 was also televised live in more than 200 countries
worldwide. In Italy until 2003 it was broadcast by La7 (one of Italy’s
seven main terrestrial channels). Since 2004 it has been televised by E
Entertainment (a satellite channel). The transfer mode used by La7 to
make this event available and understandable by Italian audiences was
simultaneous interpreting.

The present chapter is based on data gathered with the purpose of ascer-
taining (i) if the humour that characterizes the AAC is actually understood
by Italian audiences, (ii) how it is perceived through the simultaneous
interpreting of the event, and, finally, if the general objective of the original
version of the programme of entertaining American audiences was reached
in the Italian version.
This study was based on the general assumption that:
– Italian audiences would not understand and laugh along with the
humorous remarks based on references to people or events too closely
related to US culture and current events, unless they referred to facts
that are well known in Italy too;
– humorous remarks based on sexual allusions would be more easily
guessed at and understood by Italian audiences because less connoted
from a cultural point of view and because more similar to Italian
humour;
– Italian viewers would sometimes smile and laugh at humorous remarks
on the basis of different associations compared to those on which the
original joke was based;
– most of the translated humorous remarks would be regarded or appreci-
ated as slightly funny or not funny at all.
The clips were selected from three past editions of the AAC (2000, 2001
and 2002) which were hosted by respectively by Billy Crystal, Steve Martin
and Whoopy Goldberg and translated by four different interpreters (three
men and one woman).
The main criterion used to choose the clips was the presence in the
original version of humorous remarks punctuated by the laughter of the
audience. The final selection was then edited in a 8-minute recording on
a videotape. The 18 clips were edited by leaving a black screen for a few
seconds before and after each clip, so that the interviewer had enough time
to pause the tape and allow the respondents to fill in the corresponding
part of the questionnaire.
The questionnaire comprised 87 questions divided into three blocks. The
first block contained questions related to the socio-demographic character-
istics of the participants, as well as questions on his/her knowledge of the
English language and of programmes in which interpreters translate for
the audience. The second section comprised questions aimed at assessing
and rating the appreciation of the 18 clips, and also asked the respondents

to explain, in their own words, the humorous remark contained in each

clip. The third block contained questions aimed at assessing:
– whether respondents had any problems in understanding the humorous

remarks;
– the level of appreciation of the clips;
– and their perception of the quality of the simultaneous interpretation.
The following section analyses and describes the results obtained with regard
to these three aspects linked to the perception of interpreted humour.
6. Results and Discussion
6.1 The clips

In this section I illustrate the difficulties posed by a variety of humorous
remarks based mainly on culture-specific references and word plays con-
tained in the clips shown to the respondents, and the translation strategies
and solutions provided by the interpreters to eight of the eighteen clips
used in this study, that is the four clips that respondents rated as the fun-
niest and the four clips that they deemed as the least humorous. I then
analyse what kind of humour was the most/least understood and appre-
ciated by the Italian sample.
The first group includes the following clips (which in the videotape were
edited as clip number 1, 7, 14 and 17, and which are listed according to
their respective mean – from higher to lower) in which the hosts of differ-
ent editions make jokes and funny remarks based on specific cultural
references.
Table 3.1 Most appreciated clips

Host Content Interpreter’s translation Back translation
Clip 14 Steve ‘well we have – we have to ‘abbiamo ventisette We have 27 Oscars

Martin give away twenty-seven oscar eh compresi eh including the
Oscars. Three honorary anche eh gli Oscar alla honorary Oscar to
Oscars including a lifetime carriera e il memorial a Dino De Laurentiis or
achievement award to Dino De Laurentiis o fresh meat as
eighty-one year old Dino De carne fresca come lo someone would call
Laurentiis or as Anna chiamerebbe him.
Nicole Smith would call qualcuno.’
him fresh meat.’

Clip 1 Billy ‘Such good news we found ‘Ottime notizie Great news, we have
Crystal the other two Oscars? abbiamo trovato altri found two more
Somebody bought these due Oscar – qualcuno Oscars, someone
coming up the Santa l’ha comprato da un bought them from a
Monica freeway on an off venditore ambulante street vendor on
ramp. $3.99 this is a sull’autostrada di Santa Monica freeway,
bargain.’ Santa Monica tre e 3.99, a real deal
novantanove un (laughs).
affare direi [ride].’
Clip 17 Whoopi ‘Our next presenter is an ‘Il nostro prossimo Our next presenter is
Goldberg Oscar winning actor who presentatore è un an Oscar winner and
has been nominated five vincitore dell’Oscar has been nominated
times including this year che è stato candidato 5 times including
for his performance as a cinque volte compreso this year for his
very scary cop in Training quest’anno per la sua performance as a
Day. He’s so tough in that performance come bad cop in Training
movie [WG laughs] he’s poliziotto cattivo in Day. He’s a really
the only man who is not Training Day. è un vero tough guy in that
afraid to go out for a bite duro in quel film è film, the only man
with Mike Tyson.’ l’unico uomo al mondo who’s not afraid to
che non abbia paura di get bitten by Mike
farsi morsicare da Mike Tyson.
Tyson.’
Clip 7 Billy ‘I see white people.’ ‘oh, vedo tanti bianchi.’ Oh, I see many white
Crystal people.
The irony of clip 14 is based on specific people and events: Dino De

Laurentiis, the well-known and at the time 81-year-old film producer,
and Anna Nicole Smith a showgirl who became famous after marrying
an over-80-year-old billionaire. Hence, the allusion to the fact that Mr De
Laurentiis would be ‘fresh meat’ for her. When translating this gag, the
interpreter omitted the name of the woman and used a much more general
phrase ‘as someone would call him’, thus recreating a line that was appreci-
ated by the Italian sample.
The irony of Clip 1 is based mainly on Billy Crystal who enters the stage
with a few Oscar statuettes thrown in a bag of oranges and on the derisory
monetary value that is attributed to them ($3.99). Moreover, there is also a
very specific allusion to the Mexican immigrants who move to this part of
the USA and seek out a living by selling oranges along the main roads
around Los Angeles.
In the Italian version the interpreter opted for a literal translation, to
which he added that the oranges had been bought from a street vendor
thus allowing the Italian audience to associate an image that is quite com-
mon in Italy too. Moreover, the interpreter also ended the rendering of

this gag with a laugh, which might have contributed to signalling to the
Italian audience that they could join in the appreciation of this clip.
Clip 17 refers to the infamous episode of Mike Tyson biting off a portion
of Evander Holyfield’s ear during a boxing match. It is a fact well known to
the Italian audience; however, the gag is also based on the wordplay ‘to go out
for a bite’. Since the interpreter could not translate it, he chose to omit it.
The last clip of this first group (Clip 7) is a direct reference to one of the
most famous lines of the film The Sixth Sense. In this case, the interpreter
chose not to translate the reference from the film and to create a new
juxtaposition between the content of the sentence in Italian (‘vedo tanti
bianchi’: I see many white people) and the fact that Michael Clarke Duncan
was one of the few black people present in the audience and seen on
the screen.
The second group of clips, that is the least appreciated ones, contained
the humorous remarks illustrated in Table 3.2.
Table 3.2 Least appreciated clips

Host Content Interpreter’s translation Back translation
Clip 5 Billy ‘ohh if they only knew I’m ‘oh: guarda qua se If they really knew who
Crystal really Saul Turkowitz and sapessero veramente chi I am: I am a big turkey.
I’m not from Great Neck.’ sono io: sono un grande
tacchino.’
Clip 15 Steve ‘By the way Penelope Cruz ‘Penelope Cruz ha fatto Penelope Cruz has
Martin had starred in such film come Live Flesh, starred in movies like
movies as Live flesh, Woman on top e ha Live Flesh, Woman on
Woman on top and has appena finito un film Top, and has just
just finished a movie chiamato Blow. Adesso finished a movie called
called Blow. Now here to per cancellare questa Blow. Now to erase this
erase that imagery from immagine dalla vostra image let me introduce
your mind is the president mente vi presento il to you the president of
of the academy Bob presidente dell’Academy the Academy Robert
Rehme.’ Robert Rehme.’ Rehme.
Clip 13 Steve ‘there’s [SM laughs] ‘abbiamo Ang Lee We have Ang Lee the
Martin there’s Ang Lee? ehm regista di La tigre e il director of The Tiger
director of Crouching dragone, all’inizio non and The Dragon (how
Tiger Hidden Dragon now pensavo fosse un film the film is translated in
at first I didn’t realize that perché per me la tigre e Italian). At the
was a movie? because to il dragone mi suona un beginning I didn’t think
me? Crouching Tiger po’ una cosa che fa it was a movie because it
Hidden Dragon sounds Siegfried eh eh e Roy in sounds a bit like
like something Siegfried vacanza.’ something Siegfried and
and Roy do on vacation.’ Roy do on holiday.

Clip 6 Billy ‘oh this thong is killing ‘ah, questo veramente Oh, this is really
Crystal me.’ mi, mi strema.’ exhausting.
As expected, the punch line in Clip 5 posed quite a few problems of inter-
pretation and translation. The interpreter had to find a solution and a
translation for two highly specific cultural references to Jewish culture:
a name and a place used in relation to Roberto Benigni, namely ‘Saul
Turkowitz’ and ‘Great Neck,’5 which could prove to be quite obscure refer-
ences to other English-speaking audiences too, let alone foreign viewers.
His choice was to summarize the general sense of the two allusions and
insert a surreal punch line of his own creation with the intent of recreating
the humorous effect that the humorous remark had on the American
audience. It is also worth mentioning that whether the translation was
successful in conveying the funniness of the original punch line or not, it
was certainly helped by Benigni’s expressions and mimic.
The quite straightforward sexual allusions contained in Clip 15 and based
on the titles of a few films with Penelope Cruz are immediately recognizable
to an English-speaking audience. Faced with the problem of translating
and/or reproducing these wordplays in Italian the interpreter chose to
leave out the titles of the films in English without providing any other hint
that would have helped the Italian audience understand the sexual humour.
Perhaps an alternative option could have been that of using a more evoca-
tive adjective (e.g. ‘to erase this sensual/erotic image . . .’) in the second
part of this line thus providing the audience with a few hints as to the sexual
allusions present in the original. Steve Martin makes a joke on the film
‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ and makes a sexual allusion based on
the title and on the reference to Siegfried and Roy, two famous German-
American entertainers and a gay couple who became famous for their long-
running magic show which included white tigers . This latter and well-known
aspect of their private life triggers all the sexual allusions used in this
remark. In this case, as with the references contained in Clip 5, it was quite
safe for the interpreter to assume that the Italian audience would not be
familiar with Siegfried and Roy or with all the other information related to
their personal life. However, in this case, he chose to translate the remark
literally, therefore although he provided all the elements that in the origi-
nal made the audience laugh, the people on which it is based are almost
unknown in Italy and the word play and its sexual allusions were completely
lost in the translation.

In the last clip of this group (Clip 6) the interpreter chose not to translate
the key word on which the whole humorous effect of the gag is based (the word
‘thong’) and substitutes it with the adjective ‘questo’ (this). In this case the
humour was conveyed by the association of the word ‘thong’ with the image
of an embarrassed Judy Dench (on hearing this line), a mature and matronly
actress who is very unlikely to be wearing one. Even if the interpreter had
not heard or understood the key word, he could have resorted to other
solutions such as ‘this dress is too tight’ or ‘these shoes are killing me’ or
any other alternative. However, even if finding a feasible solution would have
required a lot of promptness and dexterity on the part of the interpreter,
it is also true that the fact that it was a humorous remark based on one
word only also left him with quite a lot of space in which to manoeuvre.
This concise description of the humorous remarks contained in the eight
clips selected for analysis in this article can already give us an insight into
some of the factors that contributed to making the Italian audience (not)
appreciate and understand the humorous remarks that made the American
audience laugh. As the following section explains more in detail, one the
main obstacles to the rendering of humour into Italian was the specificity of
the cultural elements on which the various gags were based.
6.2 General results

The results illustrated in this section are related to two questions contained
in the questionnaire and aimed at assessing the clarity of the translated
gags and how much they were appreciated by the respondents. In order to
do so, the sample was asked to rate these two aspects on a graphic rating
scale from one to ten. Then they were asked to explain the lines in their
own words and to specify what the elements were that helped them in
understanding the clips.
One of the main results obtained is related to the fact that the means for
the two groups of clips presented above are all generally low. This is a clear
indication of the fact that generally speaking most respondents did not
find the gags clear and, above all, that their subsequent appreciation of the
gags was low. Another important aspect that emerged from the analysis
of the means obtained by individual clips is that in most cases the number
of respondents who did not understand the gags exceeded that of those
who did understand it. Moreover, if we compare the means related to the
perception of each clip to the means related to its appreciation (Table 3.3),
we can see that the clips that were deemed the funniest were those that
were considered the clearest.

Table 3.3 Means related to the understanding and appreciation of individual clips
Did you understand Was it clear? Did you find it funny?
the joke?
Frequence Mean Standard deviation Mean Standard deviation
Clip 17 28 6.41 3.32 3.68 2.81

Clip 1 25 6.36 3.21 3.84 2.38
Clip 14 33 5.36 3.12 4.02 2.98
Clip 7 30 5.32 3.20 3.61 3.06
Clip 5 9 2.70 3.05 1.95 2.29
Clip 15 13 2.45 2.93 1.86 2.57
Clip 13 6 1.77 2.26 1.41 1.99
Clip 6 3 1.64 2.23 0.95 1.76
The importance of clarity for the purposes of the appreciation of

humour was further confirmed by the analysis of the results obtained by the
first group of clips taken into consideration in this chapter, that is those
that the respondents considered the funniest (Clips 17, 1, 14, and 7). It is
important to note that the gags contained in these clips were based on
cultural references that were not too specific and which were easily compre-
hensible for the Italian audience. Indeed, all the clips that the respondents
rated as not very funny contained references that were very specific to
American culture.
In terms of the extra verbal and non-verbal elements that helped the
respondents understand or appreciate the gags that contributed to helping
the Italian audience join in the laughter triggered by the gag in the
American audience, the respondents reported that what made them laugh
more were visual aspects such as hearing and seeing the audience laugh
and the host’s facial expressions, gestures and body language (reported,
respectively, by 41 per cent and 27 per cent of the sample).
The data also showed that the translation and rendering provided by the
interpreter played a fundamental role in both enabling the sample to
understand or to miss out on the humour. Indeed, according to the answers
given by the respondents to the question asking them to list the main
features of the simultaneous interpreting that hindered their under-
standing of the clips, the chief factors mentioned were the presence of
sentences that did not make sense (20 per cent), the fact that the inter-
preter was speaking too fast and left a few sentences incomplete (18 per cent
each) and the lack of fluency (12 per cent). These results are in line

with the qualitative criteria established by Kurz (1997) with her study on
the perception of simultaneous interpreting on behalf of the end-users
and which listed fluency, logical cohesion, completeness and coherence
as elements that can influence positively the perception of the quality of
this kind of translation. It is very likely that the lack of fulfilment of these
criteria in some cases contributed, at least in part, to the negative judge-
ment expressed by the sample in relation to the gags and punch lines
contained in the clips.
7. Conclusion
One of the main conclusions that we can draw from these results is quite
obvious: only if a joke is understood is it likely to trigger a humorous
response in the target audience.
In order to be able to understand a joke audiences need to be made privy
not only to the meaning of its wording but also and especially to all those
added meanings that in the source language are able to trigger a whole
range of associations linked to the general knowledge of the world they
refer to. Indeed, it was exactly this lack of knowledge that made it impossi-
ble for the respondents to grasp this shared knowledge and thus join in
the laughter that punctuated each humorous remark. Therefore, it can
be reasonably assumed that the translation, along with extra linguistic
elements (i.e. what was happening on the screen) contributed to making
the Italian audience appreciate those humorous remarks.
The analysis of the data gathered by means of a questionnaire showed,
first of all, how difficult it is for a simultaneous interpreter to translate and
render humour into another language. Moreover the data also confirmed
that the main difficulties they encountered were mostly related to cultural
factors and to linguistic expressions that are almost impossible to transfer
into another language. Likewise, the results obtained by this study indicate
that even in those instances in which the interpreter managed to transmit
all the basic elements constituting a humorous remark, not always did the
audience appreciate them, especially when those humorous remarks were
based on references to:
– American people and events that the Italian sample was not able to
recognize, with the only exception of the reference to Mike Tyson’s
bite, which made the news in Italy too;
– Sexual jokes that were often inferred by the respondents especially
when they were alluding to real or alleged relationships between actors.

However, whenever the sexual reference was to people unknown to

the sample (e.g. Siegfried and Roy) or there was a double entendre
based on wordplay (e.g. the titles of the films in which Penelope Cruz
has starred), then the respondents were not able to understand and
appreciate the humour.
Another important element that emerged, and which confirms the results
obtained by studies carried out on the perception of subtitled humour
(Antonini et al. 2003; Antonini 2005), is that, according to the explanations
of the clips provided by the respondents, in some cases they found a remark
funny by making associations that were different compared with those on
which the gag in the original language was based. This phenomenon was
partly justified by the fact that the translation of the interpreter in some
cases led to this kind of comprehension. In other cases, it might have
depended on the fact that even though the sample did not understand
or grasp the correct references, the tendency was to make sense of what
they heard and thus of those remarks that initially they did not perceive as
funny but that they knew should have triggered the same laughter heard
on the screen.
The data presented in this article confirm that humour is extremely
difficult to translate from one language and culture into another. More-
over, it suggests that although the simultaneous interpreting of the AAC
is generally of good quality it does not succeed in conveying the kind
of humour that characterizes the show in the original language and,
therefore, it fails to preserve its main purpose and function: that is, to
entertain and make the audience laugh.
Notes
1
I would like to thank Katia Zanarini for making the data on which this chapter is based
available to me.
2
The clearest example is the 24/7 live coverage of the dramatic events of 9/11 all over the
world.
3
The broadcasted events that require the use of an interpreter, according to Mack (2002), fall
into three main categories: (i) infotainment (e.g. interviews, debates, etc.), (ii) planned
and unplanned media events (e.g. Royal weddings and funerals, Oscar awards ceremony),
(iii) entertainment (e.g. morning shows and talk shows).
4
One notable exception is what happened during the 2001 edition when, during Bob Dylan’s
performance, Danny DeVito was caught on camera munching a carrot. This episode, which
very probably was not prepared, inspired the authors or Steve Martin himself (the host of
that edition) to bring DeVito some dip to eat with his raw vegetables.
5
The name Saul Turkowitz is a Jewish name while Great Neck is both the name of a village
and of a large suburban area near New York, which at the beginning of the twentieth century
was settled by Jews.

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Chapter 4
Japanese TV Entertainment: Framing

Humour with Open Caption Telop
Minako O’Hagan
1. Background
Since the 1970s intralingual subtitles have been widely used, traditionally
serving minority audiences such as immigrants as well as general viewers to
understand linguistic varieties like dialects used by the locutor. Today they
have become nearly synonymous with subtitles for the deaf and hard-
of-hearing (SDH) (Pérez González 2009: 15). The role of intralingual sub-
titles as an aid to language learning as well as SDH has been made further
conspicuous by the rapid spread of DVDs as a means of dissemination for
audiovisual content since the late 1990s with a menu-based language mode
selection system (O’Hagan 2007). Although strictly speaking intralingual
subtitles do not involve translation they have been of considerable interest
in the field of audiovisual translation (AVT) especially in the context of
accessibility and more recently with the new technique of real-time sub-
titling being applied to make live television programmes accessible to the
deaf and the hard-of hearing-community. This chapter addresses a relatively
unknown application of intralingual subtitles increasingly used on Japanese
television as a means to enhance the entertainment as well as informative
value of the given programme. Multimedia sharing platforms such as
YouTube contain many examples of these intralingual subtitles used for
certain Japanese TV programmes, some of which have become well-known
internationally.1 Indeed Japanese entertainment TV has broken through
the barriers of ‘sensitivities of Western viewers’, proving that the ‘Japanese-
ness of a show can be a selling point’ with international television networks
(Schilling 2008). The main appeal of most of these exported programmes
is for particular genres, often those with outlandish humour. One of the most
recent examples is the action-based game ⣖ࠞࡌ [Brain Wall]2 known in
English as Hole in the Wall originally launched in July 2006 by Fuji TV as a
component of a variety game show. The format of this human Tetris game

Framing Humour with Open Caption Telop 71
has been exported and remade in several international versions, including

the most recent example by the BBC in 2008, following Russia, Indonesia,
Spain, Italy, India, France and Australia and US versions (Adalian 2008;
Schilling 2008). For such programmes it is the format which is exported
and remade with local contestants. Funny as they are, however, when some
of these game shows are broadcast on Japanese TVs, they are often accom-
panied by open intralingual subtitles which are primarily used to highlight
comic content, expressing humour. These subtitles have in turn come to be
viewed as part of the whole entertainment package (Kimura et al., 2000).
Similar to the more traditional techniques such as ‘canned laughter’ or
‘laugh track’, these subtitles are used to induce laughter albeit in a some-
what different manner and are proving to be a powerful tool to explicitly
manipulate and frame comic dimensions of the given programme to appeal
to the viewer. While their impact on domestic viewers has been significant
within Japan (Kimura et al. 2000; Kawabata 2006) these ‘add on’ texts in
the form of subtitles prevalent in Japanese TV programmes have so far
been scarcely reported in academic literature in the field of AVT.
While these intralingual subtitles are not motivated in the same way
as SDH, it is relevant to briefly explain the background to SDH in Japan.
The implementation of SDH on Japanese TV was promoted especially by
the 1997 directives from the Japanese Ministry of Posts and Telecommuni-
cations3 which set a goal to provide SDH by 2007 for all ‘subtitlable’ new
programmes aired between 7 a.m. and midnight (MIAC 2007: 22). Accord-
ing to the 2007 statistics from the Japanese Ministry of Internal Affairs
and Communications (MIAC 2008), the proportion of SDH provision in
relation to all subtitlable programmes reached 100 per cent for the public
broadcasting station NHK and nearly 90 per cent for the average of five
key commercial stations, whereas the proportion of actual airtime of
programmes with SDH in relation to the total air time of all programmes
was nearly 45 per cent for NHK and nearly 40 per cent for the latter. A 2007
survey conducted by Mizuno (2008: 40–1) in Japan with 668 respondents
ages between 50 and 74 indicated that while 33.5 per cent were familiar
with SDH nearly 47 per cent had never seen it although they knew the
concept, with 18 per cent having no knowledge of SDH. These results
show that there has been a concerted effort made to improve accessibility
by both public and private television networks but viewer awareness of
SDH is not particularly high. Given the demographics of the aging popula-
tion in Japan,4 accessibility and intralingual subtitles are a serious national
concern apart from their use to enhance the entertainment value for the
hearing audience.

The appearance of specific types of intralingual subtitles for certain

entertainment TV programmes in Japan is noted as having started in the
early 1990s (Sakamoto 1999) where their function became clearly distinct
from that of SDH or as an aid to complement ‘hard-to-catch’ dialogues
due to poor articulation, disguised voice or linguistic varieties used by the
locutor. Over time these subtitles whose function is to highlight and frame
humour especially in entertainment TV have become an integral part
of certain TV programme formats (Kimura et al., 2000) and similar uses
of subtitles have been reported in other Asian countries such as Korea
and China where their indigenous programmes apparently use similar
techniques (Park 2008).
The remainder of this chapter attempts to examine the new function
endowed to intralingual subtitles in eliciting humour. First, the typology
of these intralingual subtitles is considered. It then discusses the impact of
the use of such textual prompts on the viewer’s reception of humour and
in turn considers the deliberate process of ‘manufacturing’ humour by
means of added subtitles. Their impact is also considered in the specific
context of Japanese demographics with an increasingly high proportion
of elderly viewers with hearing difficulties and cognitive challenges in terms
of comprehension of audio sources especially with rapid-paced dialogues.
Finally this chapter considers future implications of the mutation and
evolution of intralingual subtitles and their implication for AVT as a whole
in the context of advancing TV technology as well as new approaches to
TV entertainment.
2. Introduction
Innovative uses of intralingual subtitles beyond their standard function

pre-exist in cinema with early examples such as Woody Allen’s Annie
Hall (1977). Allen used them in one scene to comic effect to depict the
unspoken inner sexual thoughts of the characters while they ostensibly
carried on discussing high-brow subjects (Gottlieb 2004: 84). The use of
subtitles was therefore purposive and an integral part of the design of
the film. Although similar in playfulness in the employment of subtitles,
the Japanese TV applications are fundamentally different in that their use
is rather ad hoc than systematic by design where many of these subtitles
are contingent upon how unscripted dialogues and actions develop in live
shows (although obviously their actual broadcast is not live as these subtitles
need to be added in the post-production process). Also the difference

between cinema and TV is evident in that whereas text (especially subtitle)

is generally subordinate to image in cinema, TV entertainment seems to
be more tolerant of the invasive use of subtitles which sometimes cover a
large portion of the image on screen. These open intralingual subtitles
employed in certain entertainment TV programmes clearly indicate a new
function of subtitles as a device to add entertainment value to the pro-
gramme. These inserted texts in the form of subtitles variously relate to
the utterances of the locutor, the topic being discussed or the particular
scene or image on screen. In analysing how modern Japanese humour and
entertainment are developing, Suda (2008: 21) draws attention to these
uses of intralingual subtitles on TV as a successful strategy to attract viewers,
taking the case of the 2000 hit variety show ࠛࡦ࠲ߩ␹᭽ [The God of
Entertainment] by Nihon Television (NTV). Suda (ibid.) maintains that
the relentless post-production editing process to add a large number of
subtitles paved the way for a new form of TV entertainment.
Before going into further details of the use of such subtitles, it is relevant
to clarify some terminological issues which are specific to Japan. Whereas
the term subtitles5 is used for films screened in cinemas or shown on TV,
any added text on TV programmes other than film genres is broadly
referred to as ‘telop’. The term was derived from the then widely employed
American Television Opaque Projector equipment – a device to transmit sepa-
rately prepared text or graphics directly on the TV screen without the use
of camera. The system used black telop cards on which white lettering
or images were printed before the cards were photographed and super-
imposed on the particular scene on TV. While these processes are today
mostly replaced by electronic transmission from computerized systems
(Kawabata 2006: 211), the term telop remains in common use to refer to any
text separately added to the TV screen image. However, the usage of the
term seems to vary and its precise definition differs from author to author.
For example, while Shiota (2003: 63) uses telop and subtitles on television
synonymously, Sakamoto (1999) and Mizuno (2008) distinguish telop from
subtitles where the former is defined as referring to texts inserted for
purposes other than directly rendering the utterances of the locutor.
Kimura et al. (2000: 36) in turn use the term ‘subtitle telop’ to refer to any
added text shown on TV screens. Further confusion in Japanese usages
includes the term ‘caption’ which may be interchangeably used with telop
as well as subtitles which may be open or closed. In the advent of the promi-
nent use of intralingual subtitles on certain Japanese TV programmes and
the greater availability of SDH such confusion seems to be increasing.
Reporting similar uses of intralingual subtitles especially on Korean

television, Park (2008) introduces the term ‘impact captioning’ to describe

these types of subtitles, which he attributes to have originated on Japanese
TV. Given the specificity of these multi-purpose intralingual open subtitles
used on Japanese TV programmes, this article adopts the term ‘open
caption telop’ (OCT), following the prevalent use of the term telop in
Japanese contexts. These OCT are usually placed at the bottom of the
screen when they relate to the utterances of interlocutors but may be placed
in the upper corner for informative content (see Figures 4.1–4.9). While
the TV viewers have no option of controlling these OCT, subsequent
DVD releases of these programmes often do not include OCT.6 Further-
more they may be an image rather than pure text (see Figure 4.5), mainly
conveying non-verbal information. Bartoll (2004: 53) points out how
technological developments have given rise to ‘new types of subtitles
which do not fit the already existing classifications of subtitles published
up to date’. While the deployment of OCT is not directly motivated by
technology per se, it is not deniable that availability of appropriate techno-
logy provides the means to readily produce and insert these subtitles.
Without computerized systems it would have been just too costly to deploy
a large number of OCT.
The first appearance of OCT in the comedy programme genres on
Japanese TV seems to be traceable to a particular game show called
‘ࡑࠫࠞ࡞㔚⣖ࡄࡢ࡯’ [Magical Electronic Brain Power!!] televised in October
1990 (Sakamoto 1999). According to Sakamoto, intralingual subtitles which
were originally used on Japanese TV to complement contestants’ poorly
audible answers gradually changed to a means to selectively highlight comi-
cal dimensions. This approach developed into a post-production editing
technique and became a distinctive feature of this particular programme
(ibid.). Prior to this the use of intralingual subtitles on TV in Japan was
confined to complement poorly articulated utterances or linguistic varie-
ties irrespective of the genre of the programmes (ibid.), similar to more or
less conventional use of such subtitles elsewhere. The findings of a study
(Kimura et al. 2000) based on a viewer survey with 183 respondents who
were mostly of the under 30 age group7 indicate that an increasing pro-
portion of TV viewers has come to rely on such subtitles in certain enter-
tainment programmes whose content is perceived as incomplete without
the additional prompts provided by OCT. The study found that over
92 per cent of respondents were aware of the use of such subtitles to create
a special effect while nearly 85 per cent felt that the subtitles are necessary
because they are entertaining (40.6 per cent) and assist with the compre-
hension of the content (36.4 per cent). The study also indicates opinions

which are ambivalent or strongly against the excessive use of OCT. Simi-
larly, Shiota (2003: 78) warns that these subtitles could also put off the
viewers with their invasive nature imposing a particular interpretation while
Sakamoto (1999) also cautions about TV viewers becoming unthinking as
a result of overuse of OCT. These results indicate a significant impact of
these subtitles on TV viewers for better or worse, implying an influence on
the reception of humour and on the viewers’ meaning making process.
While entertainment genres were targeted because of the interest in
humour in relation to the use of OCT, Kawabata (2006: 210) notes the use
of such subtitles in news programmes, linking it to the trend of ‘tabloidiza-
tion’ of TV news where news programmes are presented in a somewhat
‘softer’ manner more suitable to be called ‘infotainment’. This suggests
that the application of OCT is broad and extended to wider genres such
as more serious news programmes. Although the latter is not of direct
interest to the current article, it further confirms the widespread deploy-
ment of OCT for the purpose of increasing entertainment value. The
following section discusses typologies for the use of open caption telop
with a particular focus on humour.
3. Typology of Open Caption Telop on Japanese TV
It is ironical and yet not entirely surprising to see the rapid development of
OCT ahead of ‘pure’ SDH, given the former’s commercial drive especially
by private television networks although the public TV network NHK has
also adopted the use of such subtitles based on their market research of
viewers (Kyoto Shinbun 1997, cited in Shiota 2003). Compared with SDH,
the function of OCT is commercially motivated to attract and retain the
audience, targeting primarily hearing viewers although they partially serve
the need of the deaf and hard-of-hearing including the elderly community
(Katori 2007). For example, a study by MIAC (2007: 20–1) with 213 deaf
and hard-of-hearing respondents found that 54 per cent attribute to OCT
their understanding of the content of entertainment TV shows. Employing
a wide variety of forms and visual effects such as the use of codes and emoti-
cons as well as colours, various font sizes and animation primarily to increase
the redundancy of the information, the function of OCT in many cases
intended for visual appeal may be useful to hard of hearing viewers. In
order to further understand the role played by OCT in relation to humour,
it is relevant to refer to prior studies which attempt to develop the taxo-
nomy of such subtitles. A literature search in the field of AVT in the English

language indicates that there is hardly any reference being made to this
type of subtitling practice and only a few references are found in Japanese,
mainly coming from media studies perspectives. On the basis of the top 10
TV programmes voted by their survey respondents in terms of conspicuous
use of OCT at the time, Kimura et al. (2000) developed a classification of
OCT. Their OCT taxonomy is shown in Table 4.1 translated by the author
from Japanese and slightly adapted for the purpose of this article. They
grouped OCT first in terms of function and form which can also be
Table 4.1 Taxonomy of Open Caption Telop used to enhance entertainment value
in Japanese TV programmes (translated and adapted from Kimura et al. 2000)
1. Typology 1.1 Direct rendering 1.1.1 utterances of the locutor
of function of the dialogue 1.1.2 narrations
1.1.3 any sounds other than above
1.2 Facilitation of 1.2.1 explanatory text where there is no audible
comprehension dialogue
1.2.2 elicitation of unspoken psychological state of the
locutor
1.2.3 indication of lapse of time
1.2.4 display of the theme or the title of the topic
1.3 Bridging of 1.3.1 use of connecting words
scene change 1.3.2 use of clues to create anticipation for the next
scene
1.3.3 filling the screen with words
2. Typology 2.1 Standard use of normal lettering
of forms 2.2 Expansion and use of letters of different sizes for emphasis
reduction
2.3 Use of Kanji use of Kanji characters for emphasis
characters
(ideographs)
2.4 Use of use of background colours for emphasis
background colours
2.5 Use of codes use of codes (?, →, !) to assist comprehension
2.6 Use of special use of vibration effect, lustre with letters for impact
effects
2.7 Use of pictures addition of pictures or emoticons alongside the subtitles
or emoticons
2.8 Others forms not applicable to any of the above

understood in terms of typology of visual effects. The category under 1.1

Direct rendering of the dialogue overlaps with the standard function of SDH
although OCT is normally only provided for selected dialogues. Categories
under 1.2 and 1.3 namely Facilitation of comprehension and Bridging of scene
change suggest newly added functionality, which will be further enhanced
in combination with different visual effects as classified under 2. Typology
of forms. While category 1 suggests similar functionality to SDH, OCT
fundamentally differ from the latter, given that only specific dialogues
are subtitled often in a condensed form, and that the selection process is
highly subjective, most likely driven by the producer who determines the
main appeal of the programme. In this way, OCT are rarely free from
interpretive values. Furthermore they tend to highlight a visual impact
by combining a wide range of visual effects to maximize the impact pri-
marily targeting hearing viewers, but also partially serving the hard of
hearing community. Although hearing-impaired viewers will likely gain
some benefit from these subtitles, they could also be misled. For example,
one of the frequently used techniques to induce laugher is to repeat
errors inadvertently made by the locutor by highlighting and sometimes
repeating them in OCT in order to draw viewers’ attention in an attempt
to increase a comic effect. While the error may be obvious to hearing
viewers it may not be the case for people with hearing difficulties. Such
an approach is entirely different from SDH and clearly indicates a mani-
pulation. Indeed, compared with the more neutral intention of the
standard SDH in conveying the original speech verbatim, the categories
1.2 and 1.3 further suggest a degree of intervention by manipulating
viewer reception of the content; while viewers may be led to a particular
interpretation of the content as indicated under 1.2.1 and 1.2.2, they
may be directed to the particular way of making the content coherent
under 1.3. In this way, OCT can be considered as an explicit form of
intervention, leaving little to chance by imposing on the audience the
content producer’s point of view.
The typology suggested by Shiota (2003: 72) in turn divides OCT into
three main areas of functionality: (1) Informational, (2) Repetitive and
(3) Interpretive. She explains that the first category refers to cases where
OCT provide contextual information for the viewers who just switched
on the programme or arrived from watching some other programme. Also
included in this category is the use of OCT for the purpose of facilitating
poor articulation or in the case of linguistic variety such as the use of a local
dialect. The second category refers to OCT used to provide redundant

information by repeating certain information visually in addition to the

verbal oral message uttered by the original locutor, thus appealing to the
viewer by using visual as well as aural channels. The example of highlight-
ing the locutor’s error mentioned earlier will fall into this category by
deliberately providing redundant information to hearing viewers. The third
category may include OCT offering a purely imagined narrative (e.g in the
subtitles used for the image of animals in Shiota ibid.: 77) and also allegedly
representing the viewer’s as well as the content producer’s view. In the worst
scenario if OCT are seen as a forced view and blatantly manipulative, they
can irritate viewers and lead them to switch off the programme (ibid: 78).
In particular, from the viewer’s perspective, Shiota argues that the third
interpretive category derives from a non-verbal source of information as
opposed to the other two categories which arise from verbal sources. As
such this seems to correspond to the categories of 1.2.1 and 1.2.2 in the
classification by Kimura et al. (2000) although this suggests that Shiota
limits her interpretive category to the case of adding subtitles where there
is no original dialogue. In summary, OCT form a clear case of intervention
by the creator of such subtitles. The emergence of the application of intra-
lingual subtitles to ‘engineer’ humour can also be seen as a reflection of a
changing approach in TV entertainment through the use of added text
as props to supplement the performance of the actors who may include an
increasing number of amateurs as in the case of reality shows with unscripted
dialogues as well as unanticipated behaviours. It also points to the changes
in TV viewing patterns. For example, Shiota (ibid.) mentions the function
of OCT for informative purposes for ‘channel zapping’ where viewers move
from one channel to another. It also highlights the way TVs are becoming
multimodal, incorporating not only picture and sound, but also text
sometimes at the expense of non-verbal images. This can be likened to the
privileging of text on the internet as well as on mobile phones.
The following section considers specific examples of OCT in operation,
focusing on their function specifically to highlight and frame humour,
drawing on the taxonomy provided by Kimura et al. (2000) and Shiota
(2003).
4. Use of Open Caption Telop to Highlight

Humour in Hole in the Wall
This section attempts to further analyse the use of OCT by referring to

actual examples from the afore-mentioned Japanese programme known in

English as Hole in the Wall. While its foreign versions do not seem to have
adopted OCT as used in the original Japanese programme our focus here
is primarily on how the Japanese are using them with a speculation that a
similar format might become popular in foreign versions in future. The
reason for selecting this particular programme for this case study is the fact
that the game show genre in general seems to have become a popular
export for Japanese TV, and this particular one has already succeeded in a
wide range of international markets. Given the focus of the present article
on humour, the game show genre seems to best exemplify the use of OCT
to elicit humour. All the examples are drawn from the original Japanese
episodes of this programme. In this show, contestants clad in spandex
bodysuits are made to think on their feet and contort themselves quickly to
fit through variously cut-out shapes in the wall which rapidly advances
towards them. Those who fail to get through the hole will be plunged into
a pool of water behind them. In this programme the main humour is to
watch the way the contestants struggle to make themselves fit into often
impossible cut-outs and also to listen to some exchanges between the con-
testants and the host of the show before and after the action takes place.
The main interest pursued in this section is to demonstrate the function
of OCT, illustrating the new role assumed by them which resides clearly
outside of the conventional functionality of intralingual subtitles. Given the
function of highlighting humour, OCT may show the use of low register
for colloquial speech (Figure 4.1) and also regional dialects (Figure 4.3). In
terms of the ‘form’ of subtitles, it is immediately striking that OCT tend to
use disproportionately large fonts with curved contours to make them look
less formal, compared with the norms of standard subtitles. In this particu-
lar game show, a colour code of blue and pink was assigned to distinguish
between the two competing teams, which in turn helps the hearing impaired
viewers to make a distinction. Throughout the examples discussed in this
section the text on the upper corner of the screen shows the ‘informative’
type of text as discussed earlier categories according to Shiota (2003).
The first category is the case where the direct rendering of the dialogue
is provided for the purpose of stressing its humorous nature. Figure 4.1
shows a remark made by the contestant directly rendered in OCT shown on
the bottom of the screen. The comment merely says: ‘Isn’t [the hole too]
tiiinny [sic]?’ Although the statement hardly deserves the special attention
of the viewer, this innocuous OCT works to confirm the viewer’s observa-
tion of the challenge presented to the contestant (i.e. the cut-out presented
to him is too small), thus the subtitle helps to make an explicit agreement
on the ridiculousness of the attempt between the viewer and the contestant,

Figure 4.1 Exact Rendering of the Contestant’s Remark. (Fuji TV 2007)
Figure 4.2 Exact Rendering of the Contestant’s Remark. (Fuji TV 2007)
framing a common reference of laughter. The writing in the upper right-

hand corner is an example of informative text, in this case indicating
the name of the contestant and that of the supporter, for the purpose of
informing viewers who have just ‘arrived’ at the programme seeking to
know who is competing at a glance of the text. The example in Figure 4.2
also shows a direct rendering of the contestant’s utterance but in this case
just a meaningless onomatopoeic expression uttered after successfully
clearing the challenge.

Figure 4.3 Exact rendering of the contestant’s remark. (Fuji TV 2007)
Those who are familiar with Japanese ‘manga’, which are full of these
onomatopoeic expressions, may make an association to the medium of
comics. The next example in Figure 4.3 shows a comment made by the
contestant on the cut-outs on the wall which form parts of the Japanese
alphabet where one letter is skipped in the sequence, thus making it look
odd and slightly ridiculous to the viewer. This observation is immediately
confirmed by the contestant’s statement which says ‘ke is missing’ in affable
Osaka dialect somewhat adding to the helplessness of the contestant, who
then gets pushed into the water by the rapidly advancing wall, failing the
challenge. The information is completely redundant as it was exactly what
was uttered by the contestant, but again it confirms the common ground
between the viewer and the contestant to laugh about. In Figure 4.4 after
the scary experience of being pushed into the water, the contestant is
recounting his experience and asking people: ‘may I ask you to please be
quiet?’ so they can hear his story. This OCT provides a dramatizing effect,
thus making it somewhat humorous, given the triviality of the whole
exercise.
The example in Figure 4.5 is a case of a verbal comment shown in an
image. When a fellow contestant commented that the contestant in action
(who is on screen) resembled a walrus, a picture of a walrus was inserted
side by side with that of the contestant, thus further cementing the humour
of the remark. The walrus reference is then made repeatedly during the
episode often with the image of the animal re-inserted whenever possible,
while the host also calls the contestant walrus.

Figure 4.4 Exact rendering of the contestant’s remark. (Fuji TV 2007)
Figure 4.5 The pictures inserted based on a third-party comment on the

appearance of the contestant. (Fuji TV 2007)
The next two examples concern OCT used for commentary by the
narrator voice in the programme. Figure 4.6 shows the verbatim subtitle of
the comment made by the narrator who makes a remark like a sports com-
mentator, building up suspense for the development of the game, saying:
‘Oh, would this be the first time for no team battle?’ due to poor individual
performances thus far by the contestants.

Figure 4.6 Narrator commentary. (Fuji TV 2007)
Figure 4.7 Summary of narrator comment. (Fuji TV 2007)
Figure 4.7 in turn is an example of subtitles showing a summary of a

narrator’s comments on the status of the whole game. The rather dense
text says: ‘Even Mojizo [name of a contestant] failed to clear the more dif-
ficult level, allowing an unexpected lead by the actor team.’ As such, the
subtitle comes closer to verbatim and also provides an informative function
at a glance for the viewers who may have been channel zapping or not
fully following the game as well as for those who are hearing impaired.
These OCT are also used to explain the rules of the game as in Figure 4.8

Figure 4.8 Explaining the rule of the game. (Fuji TV 2007)
Figure 4.9 The whole scene filled by a telop subtitle. (Fuji TV 2007)
and also to dramatize the show by filling up the screen with a completely
new scene as in Figure 4.9. The latter says: ‘The last game which makes
you cry [for better or worse]’, providing an emotive commentary, again
with a dramatizing impact.
These examples demonstrate the new function of subtitles used to
highlight humour and also facilitate viewer comprehension of the develop-
ment of the programme in various ways. Partly because of the practical
nature of this particular game show, driven by action, it was not possible
to show examples of the function of all OCT categories discussed earlier,
for example, the interpretive category where the character’s psychological

state may be depicted in subtitles where there is no utterance. Nevertheless

the new function assumed by OCT suggests a deliberate subjective approach
in selecting which dialogue is worth subtitling. In this way, the use of
OCT demonstrates an interpretive inclination and also a tendency of
dramatizing the trivial, which may nevertheless be successful in making
the viewer laugh. The following section attempts to draw conclusions on
the new function of intralingual subtitles in reference to humour and also
in reference to the negative aspects of these subtitles.
5. Conclusions
This chapter set out to describe and investigate the little explored pheno-
menon of the widespread use on Japanese TV of open intralingual subtitles,
referred to as open caption telop or OCT in this chapter. The main interest
was to examine them in the light of humour and translation. This particular
focus in turn narrowed the material to be studied to a popular game show
whose format is currently being exported to different parts of the world.
While the examples drawn in this case study did not include all the catego-
ries identified in the prior studies as discussed earlier, it was possible to
examine several cases to explore how these subtitles are used to elicit
humour. In this study, OCT in relation to humour were found to be most
frequently used to establish common ground with the viewer to share a
particular comical aspect in a given situation and also to dramatize the
trivial to humorous effect. These subtitles also diverged from the norms
of standard intralingual subtitles in a number of ways. For example, OCT
may deliberately adopt linguistic variety, revealing the locutor’s regional
origin, in part possibly aiming to create a comic effect. One of the reasons
behind the ease with which many Japanese viewers have now come to accept
(Kimura et al. 2000) the conspicuous use of these new types of subtitles
may also stem from Japan having been primarily a subtitling country as
far as cinema is concerned, also facilitated by the high level of national
literacy. An earlier study conducted in 1997 (Hagiwara 2001: 97) on the
use of OCT in Japanese TV news programmes revealed their frequent
application with certain categories such as news headlines, a person’s name,
titles, affiliations, etc. where over 80 per cent of the total references to these
items in the news were already subtitled (intralingually) at the time.
The prevalent use of these open caption telop in turn reinforces the
general trend of privileging text on screen such as on mobile phones. While
the use of text to supplement the aural channel through these subtitles
partially serves the community of deaf and hard-of-hearing, they could

sometimes be completely misleading because of their highly selective nature

and the tendency for dramatization designed primarily for a hearing
audience. Also because of their large font and the high frequency of use
they sometimes cover over the area where closed captions, SDH proper, are
allocated to appear (Kawabata 2006: 218). Sakamoto (1999: 35) cautions
the overuse of these open caption telop from the point of view of a dumb-
ing down effect on viewers who are no longer required to think for them-
selves because every connotation and nuance may already be explicitly
indicated in subtitles while frequent spelling errors in such subtitles are
also feared to be detrimental to children’s spelling skills through exposure
to them. While technological advancements of TV are catering to the needs
of individuals who can store various programmes, download movies, glance
at multiple channels at the same time via multiple display on screen, etc.,
the use of open subtitles which cannot be removed from the programme at
will could have a significant and far-reaching impact for both hearing and
hearing impaired viewers and not only on domestic viewers but also those
in international markets. In the advent of globalization of entertainment
TV programmes in general and also through readily accessible platforms
such as YouTube this new, allegedly effective commercial method via intra-
lingual subtitles to attract viewers may be picked up by TV networks else-
where. There are already numerous examples in YouTube of Japanese TV
programmes with OCT translated into English by media users. Those
who are in a position to introduce the new applications such as OCT
have to give prudent consideration to the overall impact beyond the imme-
diate commercial gain through the appropriation of the subtitles. This is
where the AVT research community can contribute in providing an insight
into the impact on viewers of the use of new AVT modes. The imminent
arrival of digital TV planned in many parts of the world means new tech-
nological possibilities opening up to serve the viewers in new innovative
ways. The emergence of new applications of subtitles as discussed in this
chapter suggests that the AVT community has a significant role to play.
OCT may be signalling the era of what Nornes (2007: 176–87) calls ‘the
abusive turn’ of new creative subtitling defying the norms of audiovisual
translation and making the viewer smile in an unexpected way.
Notes
1
American Media industry sources report that over 5 million hits were recorded on clips
posted on YouTube from the Japanese game Hole in the Wall during the prior 6–9 months
period as of February 2008 (Adalian, 2008).

2
The Japanese naming ‘Noh-Kabe’ is a pun on the widely popular Nintendo DS games ‘⣖࠻࡟’
(pronounced as Noh-Tore [Brain Training]) and the idea of the show itself relates to the
video game Tetris, somewhat suggestive of the pervasive impact of video games in Japan.
3
This initial directive is now revised in a new policy by the Ministry of Internal Affairs and
Communications released in 2007 with a broadened definition of ‘subtitlable’ programmes
(MIAC, 2007).
4
According to the data as of October 2005 from the Japanese Ministry of Internal Affairs
and Communications, the proportion of those over age 65 in relation to the total Japanese
population reached over 20 per cent (http://maroon.way-nifty.com/welfare/files/digital_
jimaku_housou_shishin.pdf).
5
The Japanese equivalents of subtitles are ‘jimaku’, ‘super’ (clipped form of ‘superimpose’)
or ‘jimaku super’.
6
For example, DVD releases of the aforementioned The God of Entertainment do not contain
any OCTs.
7
The exact age group proportions of the respondents were: teens (17.5 per cent), 20s (46.4
per cent), 30s (9.8 per cent), 40s (18.6 per cent) and unknown (7.7 per cent) (Kimura et al.,
2000).
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Chapter 5
The Importance of Not Being Earnest:

Translating Humour in Video Games
Carmen Mangiron
1. Introduction
In three decades, the video game industry has become a multibillion

dollar industry and one of the pillars of global pop culture. In 2008 this
industry generated global sales of US $11.7 billion (ESA 2009) and it
is expected to continue growing despite the current economic climate
(Conneally 2009).
The success of this emerging industry is due in no small part to the pro-
cess of globalization and internationalization of games. Although English
and Japanese are the two main languages in which games are developed,
some games are translated into 15 different languages (Wood 2008)
and obtain up to 50 per cent of their revenue from international sales
(Chandler 2006). Without a doubt, localization1 – the process of modifying
an original game, translating it and adapting it to another locale2 in order
to sell it in a different market – has played a key role in the global success of
games.
Despite the importance translation has in the localization process of a
game, little attention has been paid to this emerging translation practice
from a translation studies perspective, with the exception of authors such as
Bernal-Merino (2006, 2007), Dietz (2003, 2006, 2007), Mangiron (2004,
2006; with O’Hagan (2004, 2006) and O’Hagan (2005).
In this chapter I intend to combine two elements that, in my opinion,
have been neglected in translation studies: humour and video games. In
order to do so I briefly reflect on what humour is and its role in translation
and game studies to date. I also describe briefly what the localization of
a video game entails and examine the use of humour in games. Finally,
I present a case study about the translation of humour in the best-selling
Japanese role-playing game (RPG) series Final Fantasy (FF).

2. What is Humour?
Humour is an essential part of our lives, and it permeates all aspects of

communication, from everyday interactions with family and friends to
more formal situations, such as business meetings and job interviews. It has
cognitive, social and affective functions (Dormann and Biddle 2007) and it
can provide entertainment and enjoyment while watching a funny movie,
reading a book or playing a video game.
Humour has been studied within various disciplines, such as psychology,
sociology and linguistics, to name but a few. However, despite the growing
interest in humour studies across disciplines, there is still a paucity of
studies that focus on this topic from a translation studies perspective and
a game studies perspective, although both could benefit from a closer
interaction with humour studies.
3. Humour in Translation Studies
The study of the translation of humour has been traditionally overlooked

in translation, with the exception of authors such as Attardo (2002),
Delabastita (2002), Vandaele (2002), Chiaro (2004, 2005, 2006) and Zabal-
beascoa (2005). This is mainly due to the practical and theoretical pro-
blems that it raises, as humour translation is at odds with two of the main
tenets of translation theory, i.e. equivalence and translatability (Chiaro 2006).
This has led to the widespread belief that humour is untranslatable, as in
most instances it cannot be translated literally.
However, the application of the functionalist skopos theory to the transla-
tion of humour, by which priority is given to maintaining the intended
function of the text regardless of equivalence, solves the problem of
untranslatability (Chiaro 2006). Chiaro (2005) also argues that the key
for translating humour is to maintain the perlocutionary effect of the
source text (ST) in the target text (TT), in order to try to ‘trigger the same
emotional, physical and behavioural response in the translation’ (Chiaro
2005: 136).
4. Humour in Game Studies
Game studies is an interdisciplinary field that encourages research on

video games from various angles, such as sociology, psychology, educational
theory, computing, narratology and ludology. Many games, especially

Translating Humour in Video Games 91
RPGs, action and adventure games, rely heavily on storylines and scripts
and tend to include some degree of humour. However, to date the
academic study of the role of humour in games is practically inexistent,
except for the work carried out by Dormann et al. (2006) and Dormann
and Biddle (2007).
In an article about the history of humour in games featured in Gamespot,
a site dedicated to games, González (2004) affirms there exists a widespread
perception in the game industry that trying to include humour in games
that do not belong to the comedy genre is problematic. This view is echoed
by Dormann et al. (2006) and Dormann and Biddle (2007), who denounce
the lack of humour in video games. Indeed, industry experts have expressed
reluctance to use humour in games due to the danger of repetition. In
games, as opposed to movies, players may have to hear a joke numerous
times if they get stuck at a certain level and cannot progress in the game.
Even if a joke was funny the first time, it can become boring very quickly
once a player has seen it several times (González 2004).
Dormann et al. (2006) and Dormann and Biddle (2007) argue that game
design would benefit from including more humour. This would help design
more engaging games, as humour facilitates character interaction, supports
gameplay, and increases players’ involvement in the game. They categorize
the five main values or functions of humour in games as follows (Dormann
et al. 2006: 96–98):
1. The value of incongruity for engagement.

Humour can enhance dialogues and other verbal and non-verbal ele-
ments in a game, as unexpected funny and bizarre comments surprise
the players and intensify their enjoyment. Puns, jokes and game actions
are usually based on this type of humour.
2. Humour as relief to support gameplay.

Humour can help reduce the tension felt sometimes in gameplay,
especially by new players, who may fail their tasks and feel stressed due to
too much concentration. Humour can help players relax and facilitate
gameplay.
3. The social function of humour.

Humour is an important element of social interaction, and can be used
to influence other people’s actions and feelings. Each group and society
has its own humour, based on specific knowledge and cultural references
and values. This kind of humour reinforces the sense of belonging to a

group, which is mainly achieved through self-referencing, either to

other elements of the game or to other games.
4. Humour and character design.

Humour is crucial in character design because it can help players relate
to the characters and it can be used for characterization purposes.
5. Humour for fun and pleasure.

This is the primary value of humour, and the one more often applied to
games. Its function is to provide entertainment and facilitate gameplay.
Dormann et al.’s classification (2006: 96–98) of the main values and

functions of humour is useful to understand the importance and the role
of humour in games. It can also aid translators identify the function of a
particular instance of humour in a game, a necessary step to be able to
translate it successfully, preserving the intention and the perlocutionary
effect of the original.
5. The Translation of Video Games
The localization of a game involves complex technical, linguistic, cultural,

legal and marketing processes, in which several agents participate, such as
the localization coordinator, the translator(s), the reviewers, the testers and
the professional actors who record the script in a studio. From a technical
point of view, it is essential to consider the localization of a game from the
early stages of the development process, in order to avoid future problems
and a very lengthy quality assessment period. For example, it is important
to create localization friendly code, which allows the use of international
characters, including double-bit languages such as Japanese. It is also essen-
tial to use scalable user-interface elements (UI), to prevent truncations and
overlaps, as localized versions usually require up to 30 per cent more space
than the original (Chandler 2005).
Regarding the linguistic and cultural content of a game, developers
believe localized games should have the same look and feel as the original
and provide the same gameplay experience to the target players. It is an
example of functional translation, where the skopos is to achieve the same
effect on the target players as the original players. Players should not feel
they are playing a translated version of the game, and the presence of the
translators should not be felt in the game. The primary function of a video

game is to provide entertainment and pleasure to the players. Awkward and

unidiomatic language and obscure cultural references puzzle players,
slow them down, bore them and, ultimately, make them stop playing.
To prevent this, localizers are instructed to use vivid and idiomatic lan-
guage, while keeping the instructions and the tutorials simple and easy to
understand. They are allowed to modify, adapt or omit any elements, such
as jokes or cultural references that could break the illusion of originality of
a game due to a cultural bump or oddity. They can even request changes
in the storyline or the modification or omission of some of the visuals in
a game if they do not deem them adequate for the target culture.
For all these reasons, video game translators have a much more creative
role than translators of other genres, as they can modify the ST and
freely include new elements in the target versions, becoming transcreators
rather than translators (Mangiron and O’Hagan 2006). They are not only
compensating for the loss of humour or a cultural reference, they are
actively rewriting the text and including new references and humour in
order to adapt the translated game to the target culture conventions and
expectations and facilitate gameplay and immersion.
It must be noted, however, that this pro-advisory and active role of
the localizers is only possible when the localization is done in-house, and
translators work closely with the development team. In the outsourcing
model, translators often work independently and do not have access to the
original game or the developers.
6. Case Study: The Use of Humour in the Final Fantasy Series
6.1 Precedents
To date, very little has been written about the translation of humour in
games. Mangiron and O’Hagan (2006: 18) briefly discuss this topic and
analyse the translation of some examples illustrating the use of humour
in the US translations of the Japanese RPGs Final Fantasy X (FFX) and
Final Fantasy X-II (FFX-II), where the translators achieved the humorous
effect by:
a. Replacing a humour element in the source language (SL) by a different

one in the target language (TL);
b. Including the use of dialects and accents absent in the original to give a
local and comic flavour to the target version of the game;

c. Introducing new puns and play-on-words where there was none in the
original text, to further adapt the game and bring it closer to the
players.
In this chapter I expand on the previous case study and look in more detail
at the translation of humour in the Final Fantasy (FF) Series in the US and
the Spanish version.
6.2 The Final Fantasy Series

The Final Fantasy series is considered one of the best RPG series in the
history of video games, and has sold to date over 85 million copies.3 The
series began in 1987 and was developed by Square, currently Square-Enix.
The different instalments of the games are independent (except for FFX-II,
a spin-off of FFX) and have different story lines, centred on the quest of the
main character, usually to save the world and free it of evil. Final Fantasy
games always contain some element of humour, which provides comic
relief to players, engages them and facilitates gameplay.
Final Fantasy VII (FFVII) was the first game to be localized into lan-
guages other than English in 1997. The outsourcing model was used
with English as the pivot language. The localized versions, including the
English one, received criticism due to the poor quality of the localization.
This led the developer to shift to the in-house localization model for
the next instalment of the series, Final Fantasy VIII (FFVIII), which was
translated directly from Japanese into French, Italian, German and
Spanish (FIGS).
FFX was the first game in the series designed for PlayStation 2 (PS2),
which uses DVD-ROM as the storage medium, and as such has a much
higher storage capability. For the first time this allowed for the inclusion
in games of voice scripts, recorded by voice-over actors, bringing the
translation of video games closer to screen translation (Mangiron, 2006).
However, the FF games for PS2 were only dubbed into English and
subtitled into FIGS, as it is much faster and economical to subtitle a
game than to dub it. As a result, the ST contains both English and
Japanese languages and cultural references belonging to both cultures.
The user interface, the narrative and descriptive passages and all the
dialogues that are not voiced-over are translated directly from Japanese,
while English is the language used in the script. This means that translators
are dealing with a ST containing two different languages and cultural back-
grounds, a rather unique occurrence in translation practice and studies.

6.3 The use of humour in the FF series

Humour in the FF series is subtle, and is designed to make players smile
rather than laugh. It is mainly achieved through techniques such as
self-referencing, characterization, references to gender and sexuality, and
play-on-words and puns, as described in more detail below.
6.3.1 Self-referencing
Despite the fact that FF games are independent from each other, there are
some recurrent elements in the series, such as item names and the names
of magic spells, characters, monsters and imaginary animals, all of which
have similar roles and functions in the different games. For example, the
item Potion, the command Magic, the spell Fire, the character Cid, the
monster Behemut and the charming and helpful imaginary birds named
chocobos appear in most of the games.
This self-referencing is used as a private joke, a kind of nod and wink to
the player, to remind them of the FF world in which they are immersed
and make them feel as a member of a select club, pleased with themselves
when they recognize these references. This, in turn, facilitates their engage-
ment with the game, which is one of the roles of humour in games
according to Dormann et al. (2006: 96).
From a translation point of view, self-referencing poses no problem to
the translator. S/he just must be able to detect the repetition and self-
referencing, and, generally, maintain them, except if there are any reasons
justifying a change, such as a previous mistranslation. This ensures that
the textual world of FF remains consistent and facilitates the identification
of self-references by the target players.
6.3.2 Characterization
Another way in which humour is injected into the FF games is through
characterization. This can be done through the design of the characters
(their look, the way they dress and behave), through the audio, that is, the
way they speak, or a combination of these elements.
6.3.2.1 Design
In FFIX, one of the main characters, Quina, a member of the Qu tribe,
is depicted as some sort of strange looking two-legged hippopotamus

wearing a chef’s hat and a big apron. Quina’s long tongue is always hanging
out of its mouth. Quina is simple and rough, and is only interested in
eating. Funnily, the main fighting technique of this character is ߚߴࠆ (‘to
eat’), which is translated as ‘Eat’ in the English version and ‘Engullir’ (‘to
wolf down’) in Spanish. Both Quina’s looks and fighting technique are
amusing and can engage the player.
6.3.2.2 Use of idiolects and dialects

In FF games, dialects, accents and idiolects are often used to characterize
characters and achieve a comic effect. Going back to Quina, in the Japanese
original this character finishes every sentence with the expression: ‘ࠕ࡞’
(aru). This does not have any specific meaning in this context, and it is
written in katakana, the syllabary used for foreign terms, to highlight words,
make puns or show language deviance. The way Quina speaks is funny to
a Japanese person because it is a non-standard way of speaking that suits
Quina’s strange looks and personality.
Translators into English decided to make her speak in broken English,
which also has a humorous effect. The Spanish translators, on the other
hand, opted for finishing every sentence this character uttered with the
onomatopoeia ‘ñam’, used to describe when somebody is eating, and by
extension, when something looks tasty. This suits the character’s personal-
ity and is also amusing to a Spanish audience. Thus, translators into
English and Spanish achieved the same humorous effect as the original by
substituting a humour element, in this case, the idiolect of the character,
by a different one that worked in their own language.
6.3.2.3 References to gender and sexuality

Covert references to gender and sexuality are quite frequent in Japanese
games, anime and manga, and are intended humorously. They represent
a more open social attitude towards this kind of humour in Japanese
culture.
These references can be used for characterization purposes or to surprise
players, as in the example of Quina. In the original Japanese game, no
mention is made to the gender of this character, and in the English version
Quina is referred to as ‘s/he’. This ambiguity is intended to cause a humor-
ous effect, arouse players’ curiosity and engage them. In the Spanish
version, however, keeping the ambiguity would have meant including a
masculine and a feminine ending to every noun, pronoun and adjective,
and it would have made his/her utterances heavy and cumbersome.

This would have slowed down players’ progress, bored them and ultimately
it may have made them quit the game. Prioritizing the overall gameplay
experience, translators decided to sacrifice this particular occurrence of
humour in the game. Quina’s name and physical appearance, together
with the fact that in the game she gets married to Vivi, a male character, led
the translators to characterize Quina in the Spanish version as a female.
Even though these kinds of references do not usually pose translation
difficulties, game localizers should be aware of the fact that they may have
an impact on the rating of a game. In Japan, games with this type of humour
usually receive a universal rating, but this does not apply to Europe and
the USA, with a stricter classification system. Di Marco (2007) mentions
the example of a Super Mario game in which three sisters talk about one
of them being a transvestite. In order to receive a 3+ rating for Europe,
localizers rewrote that particular dialogue, avoiding the reference to
transgenderism.
6.3.2.4 Play-on-words and puns

As in literary and audiovisual texts, puns are one of the most effective ways
to introduce humour. However, puns are difficult to translate, as they are
usually based on language deviance and a literal translation does not
work most of the time. In these cases, according to Chiaro (2004, 2006),
translators have three options: (a) replace the original verbally expressed
humour (VEH) element with another one in the TL, partially preserving
the form, the meaning or both; (b) replace the original VEH element
for an idiomatic expression in the target language; (c) neutralise a VEH
element and compensate somewhere else in the text including a new one.
When comparing the original Japanese FF games with their English
translations, it becomes apparent that the occurrence of humour is higher
in the localized versions, which contain more puns and play-on-words
than the original. In this case, translators are not compensating, but
actively creating new elements of humour in the translation. This is done
to further adapt the game to US culture and gameplay expectations, as
jokes are more frequent in North American culture than in Japanese
culture4 (Takekuro 2006).
6.4 Examples of the translation of VEH in FFX

In this section I present some examples of puns and play-on-words present
in the Japanese original game, together with the US and the Spanish

translation, which is based on the US one. I also include some examples of

new puns introduced in the US version, and carried over to the Spanish
version, but absent from the original. I analyse their function and the
strategy used to translate them when applicable. A more literal translation
from the original Japanese is provided in brackets.
6.4.1 SL VEH replaced by new VEH in TL preserving partial meaning

In this example, Yuna and her party are visiting the Dome in the Zanarkand
Ruins, a former temple that has become a tourist attraction populated by
monkeys, where people go looking for treasures. When they reach the
central area, an unknown voice asks them for the password. Previously, they
overheard several NPC5 talk about ‘clues’, and they suspect the password
may have something to do with those clues.
As shown in table 5.1, the pun in Japanese is based on the phonetic
similarity between the clues, which lead to ‘monkey’ (ߐࠆ, saru), and the
name of the character speaking, ࠗࠨ࡯࡞ (Isaaru). All the possible
answers to the riddle in Japanese are terms that share the last two syllables
but differ on the first one (asaru, usaru, esaru and osaru). Obviously, due to
the linguistic differences between Japanese and English, the pun cannot be
translated literally. The US translators overcame this problem by changing
the type of humour from a pun based on a linguistic element to a joke based
on the unexpected or incongruent, as there is no logical answer to Isaaru’s
question in this context. Spanish translators, who were working from
English, also followed the US model. It is an example of functional transla-
tion, where the perlocutionary effect of the original has been achieved by
a different strategy in the target versions.
6.4.2 Preserving SL VEH form and meaning in the TL and intensifying the
humorous effect by including an idiom in the target version
The following example is a rare case in which a play-on-words works well
in the SL and the TL, preserving both the meaning and the form. Here,
Yuna and her party have spotted members of a rival gang bathing in a
natural mountain spa while they are supposed to be on a mission. At this
point, Ormi, one of the rival faction bosses arrives, and checks on her
subordinates. Rikku, a member of Yuna’s party, warns the girls that they
are being peeped at.
The humorous effect in Japanese is based on the play-on-words with
the party’s name, ࠞࡕࡔ࿅(the Seagull Team), and the deviance ߩߙ߈࿅

Table 5.1 SL VEH replaced by new VEH in TL preserving partial meaning in

FFX-II (Square-Enix 2004).
Char. Original Japanese US translation Spanish translation
Unknown ߅ቲ᰼ߒߌࠇ߫‫ޔ‬ว⸒⪲ࠍ If you want the ¡Si queréis el tesoro,

voice ⸒߁ߩߛ㧍 treasure, you must debéis decirme la
[If you want the treasure, speak the password! contraseña!
speak the password!]
Paine . . . ว⸒⪲㧫 Password? ¿Contraseña?
[Password?]
Yuna ࡅࡦ࠻ߩߎߣ㧫 The clues? ¿Las pistas?
[The clues?]
Rikku ߪ޿ߪ࡯޿‫ޔ‬ว⸒⪲ߪߐࠆ Ooh, I know! The ¡Ah, ya sé!
࡯㧍 password is ‘monkey’! ¡La contraseña es
[Yes, yes, the password is “mono”!
‘monkey’!]
Unknown ᗂߒ޿㧍ᦨೋߩ㧝ᢥሼ߇⿷ Er . . . yes, good. Now Eh . . . sí, bien. Y ahora
voice ࠅߥ޿ߙ㧍 tell me: what is the decidme . . .
[Close! You’re missing one meaning of life? ¿Cuál es el sentido de la
character!] vida?
Yuna ߓ߾޼ . . . What? ¿Qué?
[Hmm . . . ]
Yuna ޽ߐࠆ㧍[Hunt one’s prey.] To bring the Calm Traer la Calma.
(the player ߁ߐࠆ㧍[Lose] To hunt spheres Cazar esferas.
has to ߃ߐࠆ㧍[Behave badly] Again . . . monkeys? ¿De nuevo . . . los monos?
choose one ߅ߐࠆ㧍[Monkey, with the To marry a Hypello! ¡Casarse con un hypello!
answer) honorific prefix ‘o’] Is that you, Isaaru? ¿Eres tú, Isaaru?
Unknown ߪߕࠇ࡯㧍㧍 Wrong! ¡Incorrecto!
voice [Wrong!]
Rikku ߅㧫ߎߩჿߞߡߐ޼ . . . Wait a minute, Un momento . . .
[Hm? That voice?] this voice sounds Conozco esa voz.
familiar.
Rikku ߽ߒ߆ߒߡࠗࠨ࡯࡞㧫 Is that Isaaru? ¿Eres Isaaru?
[Is that Isaaru?]
Yuna ޿ߐࠆ㧫 Isaaru? ¿Isaaru?
[Isaaru?]
Rikku ߅㧫޿ߐࠆ޿ߐࠆ . . . Hey. That sorta does ¡Sí, suena como la voz de
[Hm? Isaaru, Isaaru . . . ] sound like Isaaru. Isaaru!
Unknown ࠎ㧫ᄢ߈ߥჿߢ㧫 Is that your final ¿Es esa vuestra respuesta
voice [What? Say it aloud.] answer? final?
Rikku ޿‫ࠆޔߞߐޔ‬ The jig is up! Show ¡Basta de juegos! ¡Sal,
[I-saa-ru.] yourself, Isaaru. Isaaru!
Isaaru ᱜ⸃㧍 Fine. Está bien.
[Correct!]

(the Peeker Team), maintaining the suffix ࿅ (team, group), but changing
the name of Yuna’s group to taunt them. The translations in English and
Spanish follow a similar procedure, as detailed in table 5.2.
US translators intensified the humorous effect by using the idiom
‘peeping tom’, used to describe a voyeur. This is also an allusion to a British
movie called The Peeping Tom and an American rock band named after the
movie, which some players may identify. The play-on-words, thus, works
at multiple levels, as it uses an idiom and includes an allusion to popular
culture that will activate different associations on the players depending
on their knowledge and cultural background.
In this case, humour has been used in the target version to further domes-
ticate it by introducing new cultural references that bring the game closer
to players. It has a social function, as it allows players to recognize and
relate to their culture while providing pleasure and satisfaction to those
players who recognize the cultural allusions beyond the game. In her study,
Takekuro (2006) observed that Japanese jokes are based on words, phrases
and the literal meaning of what has already been said previously, while
English jokes often include new information into the discourse-context,
expanding the discourse outside the text. This example from FFX-II seems
to confirm her findings, as the English text expands beyond the game and
alludes to British and American pop culture.
The Spanish translation, on the other hand, works in a similar way to the
Japanese one. In this case, the name of the group, ‘Gaviotas’, is replaced by
‘Espiotas’, derived from the verb espiar, ‘to spy’, and using the same suffix,
‘-otas’. A Spanish audience would also find this play-on-words amusing,
Table 5.2 Preservation and intensification of SL VEH in TL in FFX-II (Square-

Enix 2004).
Char. Original Japanese US translation Spanish translation
Hench-woman B ߨ߂‫߁ߎ߁ߤ߇߈ߙߩޔ‬ Hey, did you just Oye, ¿alguien ha dicho

⡞ߎ߃ߥ߆ߞߚ㧫 hear someone say ‘espiar’?
[Listen, didn’t you hear ‘peek’?
something about ‘peek’?]
Hench-woman A ࠞࡕࡔ࿅㧍㧫 The Gullwings! ¡Las Gaviotas!
[The Seagull Team!?]
Hench-woman B ߡ޿߁߆‫߈ߙߩޔ‬࿅㧍㧫 Or is it the Peeping ¿O sois las Espiotas?
[Or the Peeker Team!?] Tomwings?
Paine ᄬ␞ߥ㧍 How clever! Muy gracioso.
[That’s rude!]

which means that the intended function of this fragment is preserved in

both translated versions, ensuring a similar gameplay experience.
6.5 Examples of the intensification and the introduction of

new VEH in the US version of FFX
Next I analyse some examples of messages addressed to enemies during a
battle, from FFX, which did not include any VEH in the original Japanese
game, but include them in the localized US and Spanish versions. I have
divided the examples into three categories, according to the type of VEH
used: humour based on play-on-words, on irony and on idioms and rhymes.
6.5.1 Examples of humour based on play-on-words between

literal and idiomatic meaning
There are several examples of battle messages addressed to the enemies
which are related to the spell or technique being used. In the first three
examples in table 5.3, a character named Lulu casts magic spells based
on the element ‘Ice’, which have three different levels of intensity.
Here, the English lines are funny because they play with the literal mean-
ing, that is, a spell that causes damage of the element Ice, but they also
have an idiomatic meaning. The same applies to the Spanish lines, although
there is only coincidence of the idiomatic meaning in the second example,
‘to break the ice’ (romper el hielo) when you meet somebody for the first
time. For this reason, translators opted for a functional translation in the
subtitles that preserved the reference to ‘ice’ but also had a double mean-
ing in Spanish, maintaining the humorous effect. In this case, ‘¿Hielo? . . .’
Table 5.3 Introduction of new play-on-words in TL in FFX (Square 2001).

Ex. Char. Original Japanese US translation Spanish translation
1a Lulu ⧌߹ߢಓࠅߥߐ޿ Freeze. ¿Hielo? . . .

[Freeze to the core.]
1b Lulu ಓߡߟߊ᳖ߩ߿޿߫ࠃ Let me break the Para romper el hielo . . .
[An ice sword that will freeze ice . . .
you.]
1c Lulu ᄢ᳇߽ࠈߣ߽ಓ⚿ߐߖࠆ Icing on the cake ¡Te quedarás helado!
[Freeze with the atmosphere.] ...

(Ice?) would be used when offering somebody a drink, while ‘¡Te quedarás
helado!’ (literally ‘You’ll be frozen’) means ‘You’ll be surprised’.
6.5.2 Examples of humour based on irony

In the examples in table 5.4, US translators have introduced some irony
in the target version that is not present in the original Japanese text.
In example 2a, Lulu uses the harmful spell ‘Bio’, based on the element
‘Poison’, but ironically she refers to it as if it were a beauty product that
would help the enemy. The irony makes the English and Spanish lines
amusing because from the context it is obvious Lulu means the opposite of
what she is saying.
In example 2b, Lulu addresses her rival when she uses a deadly technique
that kills her opponent on the spot. In this case the original Japanese is also
slightly ironic, but the English translation is more ironic, as it implies that
this is the last time they meet because the rival will die. The Spanish trans-
lation, based on the English voice-over, is also slightly ironic, like the
Japanese, but not as much as the English translation.
Table 5.4 Introduction of irony in TL in FFX (Square 2001).

2a Lulu ⁴Ქߦ߻ߒ߫߹ࠇࠆ߇޿޿ This might help your ¡Esto te irá bien!

[Hope this deadly poison complexion.
affects you.]
2b Lulu ߎࠇߢߐࠃߥࠄߨ Nice knowing you. Ha sido un placer.
[Bye bye now]
6.5.3 Examples of humour based on idioms and rhymes

US translators of FFX also introduced new VEH in their translation using
idioms and rhymes, as in the examples in table 5.5.
The sentence in example 3a is uttered when Tidus uses a fighting
technique addressed to all enemies that has a random effect. The US trans-
lation introduces a humorous effect by replacing the Japanese original with
a children’s rhyme used to select a group member who will have to carry
out a particular action. When used in a battle context against enemies, it
has a humorous effect, absent in the original Japanese message.
The Spanish translation is also a functional one, where the VEH element
from the voice-over English text has been replaced by another one in the

Table 5.5 Introduction of idioms and rhymes in TL in FFX (Square 2001).

3a Tidus ᵷᚻߥߩ৻⊒߱ߜ߆߹ߔ Eeny, meeny, miny, ¡Tururú!

[I’ll destroy you with an incredible mo!
blow.]
3b Tidus ੹࿁ߪൊᑯߒߡ߿ࠆ Live and let live! ¡Vive y deja vivir!
[This time I’ll take mercy on you]
TL that partially preserves its form, as there is also an alliteration in ¡Tururú!

It also sounds amusing and cute, like the English rhyme, and in that regard
it is a functional translation. However, the English translation is funnier
than the Spanish one because it describes more accurately the effect of the
fighting technique, as the blow lands on a randomly chosen enemy.
Finally, example 3b represents another case of irony in the Japanese
game, as this sentence is uttered by Tidus when he is running away from
battle. In the English and Spanish versions the humour has been intensi-
fied by the fact that translators have used a well-known idiom, emphasizing
again the social and cultural function of humour.
7. Conclusion
The main function of video games is to entertain and provide fun for the
players while taking them into fantasy worlds and making them forget about
their everyday life. Considering that one of the main values and functions
of humour is also to provide fun and pleasure, it is logical that the two
of them complement each other well. In addition, humour serves other
functions in games, such as strengthening the player’s sense of belonging to
a group and culture, engaging players and helping them get immersed in
the game world, characterizing characters and providing relief to players
who may sometimes feel the stress of gameplay. The relief function is
possibly the function of humour in games that differentiates it most from
humour in other entertainment products. In games, players become agents,
who must complete tasks and overcome challenges and trials to be success-
ful. This can be stressful, especially for new players, and therefore humour
provides the comic relief that diffuses tension and allows them to continue
playing and enjoying the game.
The skopos of game localization is to produce a localized version that feels
like the original and provides a similar gameplay experience to the target
players. In order to do so, translators of video games should have the

cultural competence and awareness to be able to detect occurrences of

humour in games, assess their function and be able to translate them
adequately, either by preserving them, adapting them or omitting them.
Localizers should also be aware of the different culture and gameplay
expectations between the original and the target players. Takekuro’s study
(2006) showed that the occurrences of humour were more frequent in
American movies and informal conversations than in their Japanese coun-
terparts. This has also proven to be the case in the brief case study carried
out on the localization of FF games. When comparing the Japanese and
the US versions of the FF games, it can be observed that the US version
includes more humour elements than the Japanese version, especially
play-on-words and allusions to popular culture that go beyond the discourse
of the original game and have a humorous effect. On the other hand, the
Spanish version, although it is based on the English one, also tends to
remain on a discourse level, without referring to cultural elements outside
the discourse of the game. Further comparative research would be needed
to establish if this is the norm and to distinguish the main differences
and similarities between Japanese, English and Spanish humour and how
they translate into the other languages.
In the FF series, US translators have become transcreators. They have
taken the liberty of modifying the original games and increasing the
humour content to further adapt it to target players’ expectations and
make the gameplay more immersive and engaging. It could even be argued
that the US translations of FFX and FFX-II not only equal, but surpass the
original. In the examples seen, translators have used humour to further
characterize the characters and to make the different elements of the game
world more consistent.
The freedom to intervene in the source text, rewrite it and recreate it is a
key feature of game localization, which distinguishes it from other types of
translation. More research is needed in this emerging area of translation
studies, but one thing is certain. Game localization is not about a sacred
ST and unavoidable loss. Game localization is all about a maleable and
dynamic ST and meaningful gain.
Notes
1
For a detailed account of the processes and challenges involved in game localization from
an industry-based perspective, see Heather Chandler (2005) The Localization Handbook.
Hingham, MA: Charles River Media.
2
The term locale is used in computing to refer to ‘a geopolitical place or area, especially
in the context of configuring an operating system or application program with its

character sets, date and time formats, currency formats etc.’ (Source: Free Online Dictionary
of Computing)
3
Source: http://www.mcvuk.com/press-releases/38274/SQUARE-ENIX-ANNOUNCES-SONG-
SUMMONER-The-Unsung-Heroes
4
In a brief study of three Japanese movies, six Japanese television dramas, and six American
movies, with similar running times, together with two hours of conversation among friends
both in English and Japanese, Takekuro found that the presence of humour in the English
corpora was much higher, as jokes occurred about four times more often in the American
sources than the Japanese ones (2006: 89–94).
5
Non-player characters, that is, characters run by artificial intelligence which cannot be
controlled by the player.
Games
Final Fantasy VIII (Square 1999)
Final Fantasy IX (Square 2000)
Final Fantasy X (Square 2001)
Final Fantasy X-II (Square-Enix 2004)
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Chapter 6
Translating Audiovisual Humour:

A Hong Kong Case Study
Yau Wai-Ping
1. Introduction
This chapter examines the translation of audiovisual humour in the light

of the shift of critical attention to issues of identity and power relations
since the ‘cultural turn’ in Translation Studies in the 1990s. Discussion
about the characteristics of dubbing and subtitling has polarized percep-
tion concerning these two major modes of audiovisual translation: on the
one hand, dubbing, which replaces the original dialogue, is susceptible to
domestication and lends itself to ideological control; on the other, sub-
titling, which retains the original dialogue, is seen to be an inherently
foreignizing practice (see, for example, Danan 1991; Gutiérrez Lanza 1997;
Mera 1999; Szarkowska 2005). This polarization is less than helpful, how-
ever, in addressing the problematics of identity and power relations as they
arise in the translation of audiovisual humour. Little attention has been
paid to how dubbing can use the domestic idiom to create a familiar con-
text for communicating the subversive humour of a foreign film, and how
subtitling can appropriate a foreign comedy to shape identity and adjust
the power relations between cultural constituencies. I want to pursue this
line of inquiry by adopting a Bakhtinian approach which underlines the
dialogic nature of utterances (Bakhtin 1986: 92) and the interplay between
centripetal and centrifugal forces (Bakhtin 1981: 272). From such a per-
spective, both dubbing and subtitling are forms of dialogue between differ-
ent elements, and the significance of a translated text cannot be considered
in isolation from its specific cultural context. I also want to discuss the
translation of audiovisual humour in the context of a diglossic society, not
only because diglossia is a relevant experience for many audiences, but also
because diglossia helps to focus attention on how the global is mediated
by the national and the local, and how the politics of translation is played
out against the background of globalization. To illustrate these points in
more detail, I use examples from Hong Kong, a diglossic society in which

Translating Audiovisual Humour 109
language, identity, power relations and globalization are central concerns

of the cultural dynamics.
2. Hong Kong as a Diglossic Society
Hong Kong had been subject to British rule for more than 150 years
before it was returned to China in 1997, and Chinese became an official
language, in addition to English, only in 1974. If we follow Ferguson’s
(1959: 336) definition of diglossia as the existence in a language situation
of a high (H) variety for formal, written communication, and a low (L)
variety for daily conversation, Hong Kong can be described as a diglossic
society. English is ‘a prestige language for spoken and written communica-
tion among Hong Kong people’, and functions as a H language (Snow
2004: 18). As the most widely used language in Hong Kong, Chinese is
divided into a H and a L variety. As the national language, Standard
Chinese functions as a H variety because it is ‘the language in which most
of Hong Kong’s written Chinese communication takes place, including
virtually all official and ‘serious’ written communication in Chinese’ (ibid.:
18). As the local dialect, Cantonese functions as an L variety because, even
though it is ‘the dominant language of the visual and audio media’, the
use of Cantonese ‘in written (published) form is limited to informal and
less serious types of written communication’ (ibid.: 18). This imbalance of
power between the national language and the local dialect has its roots
in the use of Standard Chinese, with increasing success since the early
1900s, as a vehicle for establishing a ‘homogeneous national culture’ which
effaces ‘that portion of China that is understood through a mosaic of local
languages’ (Gunn 2006: 4). Standard Chinese means ‘the national, the
educated, the elevated, and the cultured’ (Gunn ibid.: 4). This has signi-
ficant implications for the construction of identity and for the power
relations between different cultural constituencies: Cantonese is dismissed
by many outsiders as vulgar and contaminated with borrowings from the
language of the former colonizer, and this perception is sometimes inter-
nalized as part of a Cantonese-speaker’s own mind (Leung 1998: 10). With
this in mind, we will now examine the translation of audiovisual humour
with examples drawn from foreign films released in Hong Kong.
3. Dubbing Subversive Humour
The 2007 American animated film The Simpsons Movie, directed by David
Silverman and based on the television series The Simpsons, offers biting

criticism of big business, Big Brother government and public indifference

for creating an ecological crisis that has relevance not only to Americans
but also to other audiences. This criticism is made with the extensive use of
humour at the expense of business moguls and powerful politicians who
neglect to heed the plight of the public. Chiaro’s (1992: 7) observation that
‘[s]ituation comedy frequently plays on stereotypes’ aptly applies to The
Simpsons Movie, which also abounds with other cultural signs such as ‘institu-
tions, attitudes, beliefs, typical practices, characteristic artefacts, etc.’ that
form the ‘generic reference’ of humour (Nash 1985: 9–10). It is such
generic reference that allows humour to act as an important vehicle for
creating a sense of self and community, as Nash (ibid.: 9) succinctly states:
‘Humour is not for babes, Martians, or congenital idiots. We share our
humour with those who have shared our history and who understand our
way of interpreting experience.’ But such a generic reference also makes
it difficult for humour to travel beyond cultural boundaries, because
cultural signs such as ‘key-phrase allusions’ (e.g. ‘to pee or not to pee’) and
‘proper-name allusions’ (e.g. ‘I felt like Benedict Arnold’) refer to prior usage
and ‘require a high degree of biculturalisation of receivers in order to be
understood across a cultural barrier’ (Leppihalme 1997: 3). Cultural signs
can ‘become culture bumps when they occur in translated texts’ (ibid.: 4).
This can become especially problematic when audiovisual humour is
communicated to a different culture through dubbing, which relies heavily
on the spoken idiom to create immediate intelligibility and is therefore less
likely to tolerate unfamiliar, strange-sounding expressions. A wide spectrum
of translating strategies, ranging from ‘minimum change’ to ‘omission’, has
been suggested as potential options for overcoming the barriers caused
by cultural references (Leppihalme 1997: 84). The predominant strategy
adopted in the Cantonese dubbed version of The Simpsons Movie (Table 6.1),
however, is neither omission nor literal translation, but rather ‘re-creation’,
which ‘empowers the translator to be creative’ and ‘emphasises the neces-
sity of considering the [target text] reader’s needs’ (ibid.: 100). Typically,
re-creation is achieved through ‘a fusion of strategies which is realised
in context’ (ibid.: 84, 100). Consider Homer Simpson’s epiphany, for exam-
ple. The immediate context is that the Simpsons are forced into exile in
Alaska after Homer selfishly dumps waste into the lake in their home in
Springfield and triggers an ecological disaster that President Schwarze-
negger tries to cover up by placing the city under a giant plastic dome.
In a dream sequence, Homer receives the warning: ‘Unless you have
an epiphany, you will spend the remainder of your days alone.’ In this
excerpt, Homer experiences an epiphany finally when he stops guessing

Table 6.1 Dialogue excerpt from The Simpsons Movie

English original Back-translation of Cantonese Cantonese dubbed
dubbed version version
Homer Epiphany, epiphany, I’ve got it . . . ling ng [a ‫ݺ‬व೺Ξ঳༉এψᏆᖄ

epiphany . . . Bananas are homonym of the term for Գω䢇ଡψᏆωΔʳψᎄ
an excellent source of ‘sudden understanding’] is Գ՗‫ݬ‬ω䢇ଡψᎄω
potassium! [Gets slapped] ling as in ling dou jan [literally, ᦗ
‘leaders’], plus ng as in ng jan
zi dai [roughly, ‘mislead’]
America will never Didn’t I tell you to hit me on ຟᇩ‫ؚ‬હ౩༉‫ړ‬೺Δ୆
embrace soccer? [Gets my back, rather than slapping ‫૿ؚړ‬ষ
slapped] my face?
More than two shakes Fortunately my private parts ‫܃ڇړ‬ᩒ‫ݺؚ‬䢅ૹ૞ຝ
and it’s playing with have been spared. ‫ۯ‬䞥
yourself? [Gets slapped]
Hey, what are you doing? What are you doing? ‫܃‬䞢უჶᩅ䞧೿Λ
[Gets dismembered]
Oh, do whatever you want Oh, do whatever you want. ୊Δ‫ᤪ܃‬რរ༉រ೺Δ
to me. I don’t care about Life is no fun. ᖩ⇉‫ݺ‬ຟᩒԳ‫س‬ᑗᔊষ
myself anymore.
Shaman Because? Because? এ‫ڂ‬੡Λ
Homer Because other people are Because my family members এ‫ڂ‬੡ৢٞԳএ‫ݺۿړ‬
just as important as me. are just as important as my යࡎԫᑌ᯹ૹ૞ᦗΖᩒ
Without them, I’m own life. Without them, life is 䦹᫽䞢Δ঳ᩒԳ‫س‬ᑗᔊ
nothing. In order to save no fun. In order to save my ᦗΖ‫ݺ࣠ڕ‬უඑ྾۞ա
myself, I have to save own family members, I have to 䢅ৢٞԳΔ᯹঳૞එ྾
Springfield. That’s it! save other people’s family Գ䞢䄊ৢٞԳ٣ᦗΖᩒ
Isn’t it? members. That’s it! Am I ᙑ೺Μএ঳ᩒᙑ೿Λ
[Gets applauded] right?
blindly and, with the help of an Inuit shaman, reflects on his relations
with others.
In the English original, the laughter provoked by the incongruity between
Homer’s blind guesses and the audience’s expectations about the epiphany,
along with the sadistic pleasure derived from Homer’s punishment for his
lame efforts, seems a perfect illustration that humour always involves the
release of an aggressive impulse which ‘may appear in the guise of malice,
contempt, the veiled cruelty of condescension, or merely an absence of
sympathy with the victim of the joke’ (Koestler 1989: 740). But more than
just providing a pleasurable relief from psychological tension, audiovisual
humour here acts as a stimulant to critical reflection. The comic humilia-
tion of Homer is designed to deflate his egocentric self, to press home
the argument that personal indifference breeds political corruption, and
to propel the plot forward into its final stage, in which Homer foils the

government’s attempt to bomb Springfield and, with the assistance of

Tom Hanks, tout it as a new Grand Canyon to tourists. In addition, to an
American audience, part of the power of this scene comes from its ability
to ask questions about cultural identities by poking fun at popular attitudes
to health, sports and sex. But problems can arise if the target audience has
no access to such cultural knowledge. When cultural signs become culture
bumps, any comic effect will be lost on the audience. This potential pitfall
is avoided in the Cantonese dubbed version by adopting an approach that
takes into account not only what the target audience can and cannot be
assumed to know about a foreign culture, but also how the visual and the
verbal can work together to create a comic effect in a ‘multimodal text’
such as film, ‘whose meanings are realized through more than one semiotic
code’ (Kress and van Leeuwen 1996: 183). The joke about bananas as ‘an
excellent source of potassium’ is replaced by a pun that plays on a pair of
terms that have the same pronunciation (ling ng) but different meanings.
One of the terms means ‘sudden understanding’ and is used to translate
the English word ‘epiphany’ as uttered by the Inuit shaman; the other is a
homonym created by combining the head characters from the expressions
for ‘leaders’ and ‘mislead’. This (mis)interpretation provokes laughter not
only because it widely misses the mark but also because it unwittingly points
to the political situation besetting Springfield, i.e. leaders mislead. The
references to sex and sports are also removed, partly because the target
audience may not be able to connect these clues to the caricatured atti-
tudes, but perhaps also partly because masturbation is still a taboo subject
for many members of the target audience. Rather than retaining these
cultural references, the Cantonese dubbed version creates a ‘comic inter-
play between language and action’ by linking dialogue to ‘the field of
visual, physical action, the field of the gag’ (Neale and Krutnik 1990: 50–51).
Gags surprise the audience by providing ‘digressions or interruptions in
the progress of a plot or a piece of purposive narrative action’, as when
‘Chaplin makes eleven consecutive attempts to pull his Murphy bed down
from the wall and get into it safely’ (ibid.: 52–3). In the above excerpt,
Homer gets slapped three times and even dismembered before he experi-
ences an epiphany and finally gets applauded for his efforts. The comic
effect of this gag is enhanced by Homer’s remarks ‘Didn’t I tell you to hit
me on my back, rather than slapping my face?’ and ‘Fortunately my private
parts have been spared,’ which can be considered ‘insufficient attempts
to restore a control and dignity lost during the course of the action itself’
(ibid.: 50). Weaving together wordplay, verbal humour and the visual
gag, the Cantonese dubbed version overcomes the cultural barriers and

re-creates the comic situation in such a way that the critique of egocentrism
is effectively communicated as a prerequisite for political reform.
This example suggests that dubbing, far from an inherently domesti-
cating practice, can combine the domestic spoken idiom with the visual
components of a foreign film to create a familiar context for conveying
the subversive humour to the target audience. This example also draws
attention to the dialogic nature of dubbing, i.e. dubbing can release the
critical force of a foreign film not only by anticipating the response of the
target audience but also by interacting with other filmic components
such as visual images. That dubbing can echo visual elements to enhance
the intelligibility of audiovisual humour can be illustrated by two further
examples. Examining a mutated, many-eyed monster presented as evidence
of pollution at Lake Springfield, President Schwarzenegger remarks: ‘Look
at those angry eyes and giant teeth. It’s like Christmas at the Kennedy
compound.’ The Cantonese dubbed version can be back-translated as
‘Look at its angry eyes and giant teeth. Just like my wife’s mother in a bad
mood.’ The proper-name allusion ‘Kennedy compound’, a potential cul-
ture bump for the target audience, is replaced by a familiar mother-in-law
joke that focuses attention on the angry, frightening monster on the screen,
while the cultural reference to the real-life actor-turned-politician’s con-
nection to the Kennedys is retained only for those members of the target
audience who appreciate that Schwarzenegger’s mother-in-law is sister to
JFK. Replacing a ‘difficult’ joke in a comic text with a common joke in the
target culture ‘may well be preferable to a non sequitur or a literal transla-
tion plus explanation’ (Chiaro 1992: 95), and in this case helps the audi-
ence to register visually the impact of the ecological disaster that prompts
President Schwarzenegger’s decision to seal Springfield with a giant plastic
dome as an attempt to cover up the catastrophe. When the president’s
action is reported on local television news, the anchorman’s description of
the situation as ‘so serious it has its own name and theme music’ provides
a verbal cue for a visual pun – the graphic shows Springfield rising like
foam out of the top of a cup to the accompaniment of urgent-sounding
music, only to be covered by a dome-shaped lid and offered as a drink
called ‘Trappuccino’. Rather than referring to the name and theme music
for the crisis, the Cantonese dubbed version prefaces the graphic with the
words ‘this crisis has created’ (back-translation) and then adds a voice-over
announcing ‘a sealed city, aka dead city’ (back-translation) to the image of
a dome descending on Springfield. Puns are notoriously difficult to trans-
late, but in the case of audiovisual humour this can be helped by combining
the verbal and audiovisual components creatively so that both denotative

(‘sealed’) and connotative (‘dead’) senses are supported by the sound and
the image on the screen.
Rather than being an essentially domesticating practice, dubbing can be
usefully considered not only a dialogue between the verbal and audiovisual
elements of the filmic text, but also a dialogue that engages with the critical
force of a foreign film and extends an invitation for the target audience to
ponder the ideological implications. This can be further demonstrated by
a final example from The Simpsons Movie. One of the central concerns
expressed by the film is about the manipulation of the media by both poli-
ticians and businesses to pursue their own interests. Krusty the clown, for
example, is a multimillionaire who has made a fortune by using his popular
image to promote products such as the Klogger, a pork sandwich of such
poor quality that he himself prefers not to eat. Filming a commercial for
the Klogger, Krusty takes a big bite, saying, ‘If you can find a greasier sand-
wich, you’re in Mexico,’ but spits it out as soon as the camera stops rolling.
The humour comes as the result of a combination of verbal and visual
codes that reveals the huge discrepancy between the hyperbole and the
underlying hypocrisy. The logic of the advertising language as used in the
deliberate exaggeration of the Klogger as the best of its kind in America
is pushed to its extreme in the Cantonese dubbed version: ‘This new slim-
ming burger works before you even eat it up. Trust me’ (back-translation).
Dubbing can enrich rather than tame the power of audiovisual humour
to demystify.
4. Subtitling Satire for a Diglossic Audience
The above discussion has adopted an approach that contextualizes audio-

visual humour to consider its cultural implications. A corollary of this
emphasis on the socially and culturally embedded nature of audiovisual
humour is the exploration of creative possibilities for the translator to
overcome the cultural obstacles and extend the critical potential of
audiovisual humour beyond its immediate context. ‘What can reduce one
audience to helpless laughter will leave another one stonily unamused,’
Medhurst (2007: 10) notes, ‘since comic texts and performances are always
produced and consumed in specific cultural and historical contexts’. This
entails empowering the translator to seek creative solutions to potential
cultural barriers presented by audiovisual humour, as discussed in the
dubbing of The Simpsons Movie. Medhurst (ibid.: 10) stresses: ‘Topical or

satirical comedy, indeed any humour which presupposes familiarity with

or recognition of specific figures or events, is especially vulnerable here.’
An example of what can happen when culture bumps occur in a satirical
comedy is provided by the subtitled Hong Kong version of Barry Levinson’s
2006 film Man of the Year. The film is suffused with satire, especially in the
first half when comedian Tom Dobbs (played by Robin Williams), fed up
with party politics, campaigns for President of the USA as an independent.
The political humour of the film often presumes prior knowledge about
figures and events familiar to the American audience. In the subtitled
version, proper-name allusions are all retained and frequently translated
literally without any additional information. This can present problems
because the target audience, even if they know figures such as Abraham
Lincoln, Richard Nixon and Elizabeth Taylor, may not be aware of the con-
texts in which these cultural signs are used in the original (‘Lincoln gets
more laughs with his Gettysburg Address’; ‘All they remember is Nixon
sweating like Elizabeth Taylor after a Mexican meal’ in the televised presi-
dential debate with JFK), and less well-known events such as reruns of
Everybody Loves Raymond can become culture bumps when no background
information is supplied by the subtitles.
Another noteworthy feature of the subtitled Hong Kong version of
Man of the Year is its use of written Cantonese for colloquialisms and sex
jokes, which is in line with the trend since the early 1990s for subtitlers to
use Cantonese to translate slang terms, swear words and sexually explicit
or suggestive language in foreign films intended for entertainment. Tradi-
tionally, most foreign films released in Hong Kong are subtitled (dubbing
is mainly reserved for animations and films for young audiences) and
translated into Standard Chinese. But some critics have stressed that the
use of written Cantonese for a low register can serve to bridge the gap
between spoken and written language (Putonghua, or the spoken counter-
part of Standard Chinese, is learnt as a second language by most Hong
Kong people), to create an equivalent effect, and to make the subtitles
more transparent, familiar and relevant to local viewers (Fong 2001; Lo
2001; Shu Kei 2001; Chen 2004). In particular, Chen (ibid.: 137–8) argues
that swear words should be translated into ‘Cantonese equivalents’ because
‘they convey the original spirit most effectively and arouse the greatest
empathy on the part of the Hong Kong audience, who are mostly native
speakers of Cantonese.’ Motivated by a strong desire to counteract the deep
prejudice against written Cantonese as an L variety, Chen has compiled a
table of conversion between common English swear words and Cantonese

terms, and issued a call to arms: ‘Hong Kong people should struggle for
the right to see the original features of English swearwords revived in the
subtitles’ through the use of written Cantonese (ibid.: 138, 143–7).
But such an attempt to assert the L variety as a cultural sign of the local
identity is problematic because written Cantonese is confined to the linguis-
tic ghetto of low register. This in fact reinforces the social stigma attached
to written Cantonese, solidifies traditional stereotypes and confirms the
dichotomy between Standard Chinese and written Cantonese. Further-
more, there is a risk of domesticating the foreign through an illusion of
transparency and immediate access to the original, while the assumption
of equivalent effect is left unchallenged. Consider, for example, the sub-
titled Hong Kong version of the 2006 British film comedy The History Boys
(written by Alan Bennett and directed by Nicholas Hytner). Focusing on
eight talented sixth-form students and the three teachers who help them
prepare for their Oxbridge exam, the film specializes in sophisticated
humour, with witty dialogue and constant references to Thomas Hardy,
W. H. Auden and other literary figures. While standard Chinese is used
to subtitle the witticisms, the literary quotations as well as the lyrics of the
romantic songs performed by the students in class, written Cantonese
is reserved for the occasions when characters swear. The use of written
Cantonese for subtitles in this film does little to help eliminate the preju-
dice that the local dialect is not elegant enough for ‘literary’ expression.
As an international film released in Hong Kong, The History Boys is medi-
ated through a binary opposition between the local dialect (L variety) and
the national language (H variety). The subtitler’s use of written Cantonese
in this case confirms the dichotomy between the H and the L variety, and
the asymmetrical power relations inscribed in this dichotomy remains
unaltered.
Let us now look at how an L variety can be used differently by considering
the subtitling of audiovisual humour in the 2006 British film comedy Borat:
Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan
(directed by Larry Charles).1 The film follows the fictitious Kazakh televi-
sion journalist Borat Sagdiyev (a character created and played by the British
comedian Sacha Baron Cohen) as he travels across the USA filming a docu-
mentary about the country. The film portrays Borat as a racist, misogynist,
homophobic and anti-Semitic person, and shows him meeting and inter-
viewing people from all walks of life who thought they were participating
in a documentary produced by a foreigner unfamiliar with the American
way of life. Much of the film’s humour comes from the unscripted responses
of these participants that often unwittingly reveal their unacknowledged

Table 6.2 Dialogue excerpt from Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit
Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.
Original English dialogue Back-translation of Chinese Chinese subtitles
subtitles
Borat What is the best gun to To deal with a Jew, what gun ኙ‫֜ྫב‬Գ-‫੷ش‬Ꮦዓ
defend from a Jew? should I use? ‫ړ‬Λ
Gun seller I would recommend A 9 mm semiautomatic or a ‫ˌش‬ශ‫۞תۏ‬೯ࢨរˇˈʳ
either a 9 mm or a 45. calibre 45 would be best. Ցஉ֫ዓ່䞤
Borat Very nice . . . [picking up Brilliant . . . I’m just like the ᩒ൓ືΞ‫ۿړݺ‬ሽᐙࣔ
the gun] Wow . . . I . . . like movie star in Dirty Harry. ਣϘ᎚֫ళ൶ϙ
movie star at Dirty Harrow.
attitudes about various aspects of American culture. Consider, for example,

the conversation between Borat (Table 6.2) and the gun seller.
In contrast to the Chinese subtitles of Man of the Year and The History
Boys, here the use of distinctly Cantonese components (underlined in the
back-translation) is not restricted to obscenities or sexually suggestive
expressions. Moreover, Cantonese is used for the gun seller’s fluent English
as well as Borat’s broken English. Rather than being confined to a low
register or a ‘comic’ character, Cantonese expressions are strategically
placed in a context of standard Chinese to call attention to the incongruity
of the situation. Borat’s enquiry about the perfect weapon for killing a
Jew elicits not protest or condemnation, but rather ethical indifference
and even enthusiasm about the technicalities. The logic underlying Borat’s
morally outrageous proposition – elaborated by the technical vocabulary
employed to describe the different models of deadly weapons – culminates
in the casual callousness of the Cantonese expression for ‘would be best’,
which is echoed by the Cantonese expression for ‘Brilliant’. Written
Cantonese as an L variety can push the logic of an absurd argument to its
ludicrous conclusion.
Another example about how an L variety can be used strategically to
stress the incongruity of a comic situation is provided by Borat’s interview
with the rodeo manager Bobby Rowe. Unaware of being set up by a come-
dian disguised as a foreigner, Rowe advises Borat to shave his moustache
and avoid kissing men on the cheek so as not to be mistaken for a Muslim
terrorist or homosexual. This conversation is mostly translated into Stand-
ard Chinese, but Cantonese is used at key points to highlight expressions
that clearly reveal Rowe’s xenophobia and hatred of homosexuality. The
stereotypical Muslim terrorist’s distinguishing features ‘black hair, black
moustache’ are amplified into ‘bushy black moustache, bushy black hair’

(back-translated from Cantonese). On hearing about the heavy punish-

ment for homosexuals in Kazakhstan, Rowe emphatically echoes: ‘Take’em
and hang’em . . . that’s what we’re trying to get down here.’ The sense of
hostility is intensified in the subtitles by the addition of the Cantonese
equivalent of ‘all’, i.e. every homosexual, without exception, deserves the
death penalty.
Audiovisual humour can take the form of a ‘comic monologue’ (Palmer
1987: 154) which, through a sequence of jokes, pushes the logic of a propo-
sition to ridiculous extremes in order to expose its absurdity. As a strategy
for the translation of audiovisual humour, an L variety can be effectively
used to frame a comic monologue in order to call attention to the logical
consequences of an absurd proposition. This can be demonstrated by the
scene in which, claiming to be a strong supporter of President Bush’s war
on terror, Borat addresses the rodeo crowd and sings a fictitious Kazakh
national anthem to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner. Wearing an
American flag shirt and a cowboy hat, Borat begins by saying to enthusiastic
applause that ‘we support your war of terror,’ but the subtitler’s use of the
Cantonese term for ‘support’ in a statement that is otherwise completely
couched in Standard Chinese suggests the possibility of an understanding
of ‘support’ that is entirely different from what the rodeo crowd expects.
This is then followed by a series of statements that affirm the use of violence
as a means to achieving peace (‘May we show our support to our boys in
Iraq!’) and apply this principle to not only terrorists (‘May US and A kill
every single terrorist!’) but also men, women and children alike (‘May
George Bush drink the blood of every single man, woman and child of
Iraq!’) and even animals (‘May you destroy their country so that for the
next 1,000 years not even a single lizard will survive in their deserts!’).
Standard Chinese is used to render these statements that drive the logic
underlying the war on terror beyond its limits. But Cantonese is used at key
points in the final part of the comic monologue in which, as a token of
friendship, Borat sings his version of Kazakhstan’s national anthem to the
tune of the Star Spangled Banner: ‘Kazakhstan is the greatest country in the
world. All other countries are run by little girls. Kazakhstan is number one
exporter of potassium. Other Asian countries have inferior potassium.
Kazakhstan is the greatest country in the world. All other countries is the
home of the gays.’ Specifically, all the linking verbs are translated into
Cantonese to emphasize the equivalence between the subject and its
description in each sentence. Cantonese is also used for key phrases such as
‘gays’, ‘inferior’ and ‘the greatest’ and ‘little girls’ becomes ‘effeminate
leaders’. The use of Cantonese for these terms underlines the xenophobia

and excessive patriotism of Kazakhstan, which Borat’s performance unmis-

takably shows to be a mirror image of USA. Rather than binary opposites,
the local dialect as a centrifugal force and the national language as a
centripetal force can be combined to create a code that effectively com-
municates the audiovisual humour of a foreign film and adjusts the power
relations inscribed in the dichotomy between the H and L variety in a
diglossic society.
5. Conclusion
Audiovisual humour as a feature of globalized film is often mediated

through the local dialect and the national language. Rather than restricting
the use of the local dialect to a low register and reinforcing the asymme-
trical power relations embedded in the dichotomy between the H and L
variety, the subtitler can draw upon both standard and non-standard com-
ponents, both centripetal and centrifugal forces of language to create a
mixed code that interrogates the categories that consign a local dialect to
a linguistic ghetto. Such a strategy invites the audience to read subtitles
not mimetically as a transparent medium but rather rhetorically as textual
practice that shapes identity. This emphasis on the productive role of lan-
guage in cultural representations is also evident in the dubbing strategy
discussed above that empowers the translator to re-create a comic situation
so as to extend the subversive humour of a foreign film to the target cul-
ture. Subtitles and dubbed dialogue not only convey audiovisual humour
of the source text but also emit a lateral message about the cultural identity
and power relations of the target audience.
Notes
1
Since I wrote this chapter, Michael Cronin has published Translation goes to the Movies (2009),
which contains a section on Borat. His main focus is not on subtitling strategies, but rather
on how the protagonist – as a foreigner translating himself incompetently into the host
language – elicits from his interlocutors responses to views that are rarely explicitly stated
in public.
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Chapter 7
Audiences and Translated Humour:

An Empirical Study
Linda Rossato and Delia Chiaro
1. Introduction
As argued by Chiaro (Volume 1), sense of humour is very much linked

to the individual and, as amply documented in psychology, not only does
personality play an important role in what a person finds funny, but so
does his or her state of mind at a particular moment (see Ruch 1992). Thus,
an open-minded person with a great sense of humour who is normally
ready to laugh at almost anything, may not find the same things funny on a
bad day. Moreover, beyond an individual’s state-trait (ibid.), and over and
above the universality of certain topics that are recurrent in humorous
stimuli (see Davies 1998 on cross-cultural universals in jokes), different
cultures are indeed divided by what they will find funny. On one level,
language and cultural specificity amalgamate to create a code that may
well be intelligible only to people belonging to a certain societal group –
and here we must bear in mind that the notion of group is multifaceted and
does not only simply stop at the notions of national borders, ethnicity, gen-
der, age and class.1 On another level, collective tastes may also change in
time and space. Would Benny Hill and the Carry on team still be funny in
politically correct Britain? Can Japanese laughter festivals be appreciated
by westerners? It would appear that there is indeed no escaping the fact
that humour is surrounded by borders.
Chiaro has considered possible reasons behind the worldwide success
of US comedies on the big screen as well as TV sitcoms (see introduction).
Quantitatively speaking, fewer British sitcoms are well-known internation-
ally when compared to US products. Needless to say, the comedic products
of other countries are virtually unheard of. On several occasions she
has also argued that the success of US products is due to market forces
driving them rather than their intrinsic superiority while European products
are severely handicapped in economic terms due to their need for translation

(e.g. 2004, 2005, 2008). Given that verbal humour is highly resistant to
translation and often based on the encyclopaedic knowledge of specific
societal subgroups, it follows that in translation, humorous discourse is
likely to suffer more than serious discourse. Unsurprisingly, it is apparent
that this equation does not appear to hold for US products.
Very little is known about the way audiences perceive translated humour
on screen (as a matter of fact little is known of how they perceive translated
audiovisual products tout court). Of course there are studies on reception.
Large quantities of data are available regarding the number of films
produced and box office takings (e.g. data sets released by the British Film
Institute; the European Audiovisual Observatory etc.). However, alongside
such facts and figures, little qualitative data is on hand. And even if a film
does make huge sums of money at the box office, it is surely debatable as
to whether the financial success of a film is tantamount to its good quality.
So, it may well be true that the writings of film critics and film scholars
could be our only insights to the reception of a film apart from raw
numbers and statistics.
Furthermore, despite the exponential growth of the audiovisual market
(especially home videos via DVD technology and videogames) and the need
for an inestimable number of products to be translated into and out of
numerous languages, both professional world and academia have largely
disregarded the dynamics of audience perception. As Antonini notes:
Despite the central place occupied by language transfer of audiovisual

products, particularly in the European cinema and television sector,
audience perception of both dubbing and subtitling is a largely neglected
field of study and research. (Antonini 2005: 209)
Fuentes Luque takes a similar standpoint:
The volume of audiovisual productions has multiplied exponentially

over the last few years, in part thanks to dramatic developments in the
IT sector and the audiovisual revolution [. . .]. Viewers are the ultimate
and direct receivers of translated audiovisual texts, and their characteris-
tics and expectations seem all too often not to be taken into account
before and during the translation process. (Fuentes Luque 2003: 293)
In an era in which customer satisfaction is at the centre of public opinion

in a competitive global market, it would indeed be interesting and commer-
cially useful to know how consumers react to these translated products.

Audiences and Translated Humour 123
This chapter presents the results of one of the many case studies carried
out as part of a larger project involving a group of researchers at the
University of Bologna’s Department of Interdisciplinary Studies in Trans-
lation, Languages and Cultures (SITLeC Dipartimento di Studi Interdisciplinari
su Traduzione Lingue e Culture) the aim of which is to study screen trans-
lations from the point of view of audiences. This relatively unexplored
area of study has already produced significant results regarding the quality
of dubbed and subtitled products in Italy (e.g. Antonini 2005; Bucaria and
Chiaro 2007) – results which can contribute considerably to the quality of
future film translations by providing first-hand information regarding
how viewers perceive what they see and hear on screen when the product
they are watching is not made in Italy. While in no way do these studies
wish to contribute to the futile debate on the superiority of dubbing
versus subtitling or vice versa, they do intend to examine exactly what is
conveyed to audiences via both modalities of screen translation. Given
that the translation of humour is a notoriously difficult task, comedy in
translation can be taken as a good indicator of overall quality of screen
translations in general. If a particularly complex instance of translated
wordplay is appreciated by the target audience, we surely have a plus
point in terms of quality. In other words, when translated humour is being
conveyed to audiences, if audiences display amusement and/or positive
appreciation (keeping the individual sate-trait factor constant) the translator
must obviously be doing something right. But what if humour is unsuccess-
ful in translation? Can we be certain that it’s all down to the translator’s
skills or might positive reception be due to the complex interplay of good
quality translation combined with the recipient’s personality, mood and
cultural know-how?
[. . .] we can never be certain whether audiences appreciate the films

in the same way from culture to culture. For example, watching the same
film do Italian audiences laugh in the same places as British audiences?
And does this depend on a different sense of humour or could it depend
upon the translation? [. . .] Do culturally different audiences laugh in the
same places? And if they do not, how far will this depend upon culture-
specific presuppositions and how far on the quality of translation?
Comic films are successful in many cultures, yet for different reasons.
Translation must surely play an important role. However, even if we
may quite safely hypothesize that quality of translation can either make
or break a comedy, it is only one single factor among many which contri-
butes to a film’s success. (Chiaro 2006: 6–8).

The present study reports how two different audiences in terms of language
and culture perceive the German comedy Good Bye Lenin! (Wolfgang Becker,
Germany, 2003) and supplements previous fieldwork carried out on this
film reported by Rossato (2006). After having watched the film, a group of
German native speakers were asked to fill in a purpose-built questionnaire
aimed at measuring their response to instances of humour in the film.
A group of Italians were also asked to fill in the same questionnaire (in
Italian) after having watched the Italian dubbed version of the film. Data
emerging from the questionnaires were elaborated and compared. What
follows is a detailed description of how the questionnaire was developed
and how the study was conducted after which some of the results are
reported and discussed.
2. Aims and Objectives
The aim of this study is to gain insights into how, translation effects
audience perception. By examining the Humour Response2 of audiences
watching a film in their native language and then comparing it with those
of a group of non-native speakers watching the same film in translation,
the study seeks to ascertain how far the successful transfer of humour
depends on the linguistic choices of the translator and how far it depends
on the encyclopaedic knowledge of the audience. Keeping variables
pertaining to individual state and trait constant (Ruch op.cit. 1992), all
else being equal, differences in Humour Response could reveal important
insights into the impact of translation as well as the interplay of transla-
tional impact and enjoyment of the film.
The working hypotheses behind the study were the following:
(a) Respondents belonging to language A (German) and culture A

(Germany) watching humorous stimuli in Language A would have
a more positive Humour Response than Respondents belonging to
language B (Italian) and culture B (Italy) watching humorous stimuli
translated from Language A (German) into Language B (Italian).
(b) A negative Humour Response expressed by Respondents B may be
(at least) partially due to Culture B’s lack of socio-cultural knowledge
of Culture A.
(c) A negative Humour Response expressed by Respondents B may be
(at least) partially due to translational quality.
(d) As far as appreciation of non-autochthonous humour is concerned,
the impact of translation plays a major role.

3. Methods and Materials
3.1 Research design

Mainly quantitative methods were adopted for this study, although a
small amount of qualitative data were also gathered while administering
the questionnaire by noting respondents’ comments and reactions (i.e.
laughter and smiling).
3.1.1 The film: Good Bye Lenin!

Good Bye Lenin! takes place in East Berlin in the 12 months that go from just
before the fall of the Wall in November 1989 to the official reunification of
East and West Germany a year later, in October 1990. Alex’s mother Chris-
tiane, a devoted Socialist, suffers a heart attack and falls into a coma just
before the Fall and when she wakes up some months later, the German
Democratic Republic (Deutsche Demokratische Republik, GDR) no longer exists.
Since she has to avoid any form of excitement, her son does everything in
his power to make her believe that nothing has changed and goes as far as
setting up the GDR again for her in their flat. Thus, as Alex bungles his way
through the film with far-fetched lies and extreme actions, we have all the
elements for a bitter-sweet comedy. For example, when his mother requests
some Spreewald gherkins (a typical product of the ex-GDR) and Alex agrees
to get some for her, he finds that they are no longer available so he pulls old
jars out of the garbage, disinfects them, fills them with new pickle and re-
labels them. Again, when Christiane notices a giant Coca-Cola ad being
rolled out on a nearby building, with the help of a friend, Alex goes to the
Coca-Cola factory and fakes a news report in which the company claims to
be angry about losing a lawsuit because the formula for Coca-Cola was
invented by East German workers.
Clearly, in order to understand the film in its entirety, the ideal viewer
requires a minimum amount of knowledge of recent European history, so
presumably, older viewers would appreciate the film more than younger
audiences.
However, Good Bye Lenin! does not only contain numerous examples of
culture-specificity with frequent references to everyday life, products, TV
programmes, linguistic forms and jargon pertaining to the old GDR, but
above all, it highlights the stereotypes and prejudices of the old Federal
Republic of Germany (Bundesrepublik Deutschland, FRG) towards the GDR
and its citizens. For example, some of the funniest scenes in the film are
based on paradoxes in which history is overturned by Alex’s creative

attempts to re-create a world which no longer exists, ‘[. . .] culture specifi-

city is a crucial element in the import/export of comedy [as well as] the
recognition of stereotypes and inflated parodic forms.” (Chiaro 2000: 29)
Furthermore, Good Bye Lenin! contains many instances of visual humour
which offer no barriers regarding translatability whatsoever. These visual
cues should be an advantage when considering international markets
(cfr. Chiaro 2000 and 2006).
The Italian version of Good Bye Lenin! was translated and adapted for
dubbing by Gianni G. Galassi,3 for LaBiBi.it.4
3.1.2 The Questionnaire

The questionnaire sets out to test the level of enjoyment of instances of
humour in the film of both native speakers of German watching the film
in its original version and of native speakers of Italian watching the film
in translation. As well as assessing audience perception of verbal humour,
the instrument also aims to gather awareness of culture-specific visual
elements such as characters’ way of dress and home furnishings.
Before designing the instrument, the authors watched the film in the
company of two native speakers of German who helped choose what
could be perceived as pertinent examples of humour based on linguistic
elements; humour based upon highly socio-cultural elements and purely
visual humour.5
The questionnaire was constructed in three sections:
Section A: contains questions regarding respondents’ demographic data

(age, gender, education, employment etc.) as well as questions eliciting
their familiarity with cinema and attitudes towards comedies. Italian respon-
dents were questioned on their knowledge of German and both groups
regarding their familiarity with recent history of Germany;
Section B: contains questions in which respondents were asked to choose
an adjective from a list of 14 ‘humour terms’6 which in turn, best described
the film, characters, certain expressions (e.g. Cosmonaut – Kosmonaut/cos-
monauta; Enemy of the state – Klassenfeind/nemici del popolo) and highly cul-
ture-specific visuals.
Section C: respondents were asked to rate four different scenes according
to their Humour Response)7 and subsequently to choose one of the 14
‘humour terms’ (see 3.1.2. Section B) to describe the kind of humour in
the scene.

3.1.3 The Respondents

Between spring 2004 and autumn 2005, a random, but convenient sample
of German respondents,8 contacted by means of personal networking, was
asked to watch the film and subsequently fill out the questionnaire. During
this same period, a parallel group of Italian respondents also watched the
film in the Italian adaptation and accordingly filled out the Italian version
of the instrument. Both samples were varied in terms of age, gender and
education of individuals. A total of 44 respondents were involved in the
study – 22 Italians and 22 Germans. A subgroup of 11 respondents in the
German sample had lived in what was once the GDR.
4. Results
Data from the questionnaires were elaborated using simple statistics.

Although data is not especially large owing to the small sample of
respondents, it does nevertheless provide useful indicators regarding
the perception of humour of people from different lingua-cultural back-
grounds. Space does not allow us to report all our data so what follows
is a description of some of the most significant results that emerged from
this study.
4.1 Choice of ‘humour words’

Section B of the questionnaire required respondents to comment on
certain features in the film according to a given set of ‘humour words’.
The psycho-lexical approach in which respondents are asked to choose
words that reflect their attitudes to stimuli is not unusual in personality
research.
As Goldberg (1982: 204) stated “. . . Those individual differences that
are the most significant in the daily transactions of persons with each other
will eventually become encoded into their language. The more important
such a difference is, the more people will notice it and wish to talk of it.
With the result that eventually they will invent a word for it.” Sampling the
domain of humour and humourlessness, Ruch (1995) compiled lists of
German type nouns (e.g., wit, cynic, grump), verbs (e.g., to tease, to joke)
and adjectives (e.g., funny, witty, cynical) that were then used to map
the field of humour. Borrowing from this methodology, a list of humour
words and their antonyms (humourless words) was compiled and used
in the questionnaire to elicit respondents’ attitudes to features of the film

(see Section 3.1.1.). The questionnaires were first developed in German

and subsequently translated into Italian. With regard to the humour words
adopted, the directionality of translation is such that, a difference in mean-
ing becomes apparent in the back-translations into English. In other words,
the 14 German humour and humourless words chosen passed through
an Italian translation before arriving at the English translation required
for this chapter – imprecision and overlap in meaning will be immediately
apparent to those familiar with the two/three languages in question; how-
ever, a discussion of the way languages encode emotions as well as issues
regarding the possible effects of translational directionality are beyond
the scope of this study.
It would appear that the German sample had a mostly positive Humour
Response to the film with 23 per cent of respondents choosing the adjective
komisch (funny – literally ‘it tastes funny’); 17 per cent humorvoll (humorous)
and 12 per cent witzig (comic). A further 6 per cent of the sample found the
film sehr witzig (hilarious) and another 6 per cent lustig (cheerful). Nobody
considered the film to be either traurig (sad) and most surprisingly of all
for a film about the past, nobody found it to be nostalgisch (nostalgic).
Conversely 23 per cent of Italian respondents considered the general
tone of the film to be ironico (ironic – compared with a mere 6 per cent
who chose ironisch in the German sample). Only 10 per cent found it
funny (buffo), 10 per cent cheerful (allegro) and 5 per cent humorous
(umoristico). Words at the negative end of the Humour Response scale
(humourless words) scored higher with 18 per cent of respondents who
found the film malinconico (wistful), 14 per cent who found it to be nostalgico
(nostalgic) and 10 per cent who considered it to be triste (sad).
Comparing the two subgroups of German respondents, namely those
who were born and/or had lived in the ex-GDR and those who had only
ever experienced West Germany, surprisingly the Italian sample and the
GDR sub-sample have more in common with each other than do the two
German sub-samples. Notably, both the Italian sample and the GDR sample
agree that the general tone of the film is ‘tragic’, that it is ‘ironic’ and
‘humorous’. While to a greater or lesser extent all respondents found the
film ‘funny’, the results of the two German sub-samples never dovetail
and only appear to agree on the terms wiztig (comic) and komisch (funny),
while Italians and ‘East Germans’ considered the film ‘sehr witzig’ (hilari-
ous). ‘West German’ respondents also chose the adjectives langweilig
(boring) and sehr witzig (hilarious) possibly underscoring their emotive
distance from the contents of the film. Certainly the adjective witzig/comico
comic is used exclusively by the Germans with a slight difference between

the two subgroups (13 per cent FRG and 11 per cent GDR). Furthermore,
several Germans added an adjective which we had not included in our list
of choices, namely tragikomisch (tragicomic).
4.2 Response to culture-specific visuals
4.2.1 Dress
Respondents were questioned on their reaction to characters’ dress, again,
choosing from the previously mentioned list of words. The ‘West German’
sub-sample seemed especially amused by the way of dress of their ‘East-
German’ neighbours and mainly chose the adjective wiztig (comic) while
the GDR sub-sample chose nostalgisch and Italians opted for triste (sad).
Nostalgia for halcyon days of the past is perfectly understandable in the
ex-GDR sub-sample and the West German’s laughing at their communist
cousins can be explained in terms of the centre laughing at the periphery,
with easterners being the poorer, peripheral underdogs (see Davies 1998).
Presumably Italians perceived dress in the film in terms of sadness as they
themselves are typically renowned for their elegance and stylish fashion.
4.2.2 Food
The Italian sample was mostly ‘saddened’ by the references to foodstuff
from the ex-GDR, choosing the adjective ‘sad’ followed, once again by
‘nostalgia’ and to a much lesser extent, ‘humour’ and ‘hilarity’. Rather like
the Italians’ reaction to clothes (sad), here too the sample is saddened
by the food they see on screen, possibly due to the goodness and variety
of what they are used to in their homeland. On the other hand, the FRG
sub-sample opted for nostalgia followed by sehr witzig (hilarious) and the
GDR sample chose (boring).
4.2.3 Household furnishings

Once again the Italian sample found the sight of household furnishings in
homes of the ex-GDR triste (sad) while the GDR sample expressed nostalgia.
The FRG sample opted for humour adjectives, opting for ‘cheerful’, ‘funny’,
‘ironic’ and ‘comic’. Once again, the Italians’ sensation of gloom with the
choice of ‘sad’ may well be down to the national preference for the aestheti-
cally pleasing (see 4.2.1.). Notably, the Italian sample and GDR sample fit
together more than the two German sub-samples do.

4.2.4 Means of transportation

Here also, the ex-GDR sample was not especially amused by the sight of
means of transport and picked the adjective ‘nostalgic’ once more. Predict-
ably, the Italians opted for ‘sad’ followed by ‘ironic’, ‘comic’ and ‘hilarious’
while the FRG sample was mainly uninterested and opted for the escape
‘none of the above’ option with a few finding transport ‘cheerful’ and
‘funny’.
4.3 Humour response to selected scenes

Respondents were asked to evaluate four scenes in the film according to
their Humour Response (see 3.1.2; section B).The four scenes respectively
involved
(i) a highly socio-cultural reference, namely, a puppet character from

German TV;
(ii) a visual/verbal socio-cultural reference;
(iii) an example of verbally expressed humour, namely Reiner’s attempt at
emulating the way of speaking typical in the ex-GDR and
(iv) an example of humour based on a stereotype.
4.3.1 The ‘Sandman’ scene

One of the opening scenes in the film depicts Sigmund Jähn, the first
German cosmonaut in space speaking from Soyuz 31. Jähn is seen in the
company of Sandmännchen and Mascia, two puppet characters belonging
to a popular children’s television programme that existed in two different
versions in the two German communities. With the re-unification of
Germany, production of the ‘western’ version Das Sandmännchen ceased
and all viewers were exposed to the ‘eastern’ version, Unser Sandmännchen,
alone. Thus, children born after the fall of the Wall will only be familiar
with the same Sandmännchen that had accompanied Jähn, whereas older
people will remember a different puppet from their childhood. In order
to appreciate this scene, respondents had to recognize the puppet show
and, unsurprisingly, our data clearly confirms how the three groups reacted
differently to the scene. 36 per cent of the Italian sample and 27 per cent of
the west German sub-sample were indifferent to the scene while it raised
a smile in 41 per cent of Italians and 46 per cent of west Germans. Signifi-
cantly, the scene made 55 per cent of the GDR sample smile, while 27 per cent

found it moving. The Germans who reacted with a smile obviously did so in
nostalgic recognition of the past. Italians smiled at the visuals. Watching an
astronaut who takes a couple of puppets into space to watch them float
around a spaceship is the kind of visual incongruence that presumably
overcomes cultural barriers.
4.3.2 The ‘W-O’ scene

Like many other East German factories, the Red Star Cooperative factory
where Alex works has been forced to close down after the fall of the Wall
as an effect of the general economic overhaul taking place across the
country. Alex applies for a new job knowing that in the new united
Germany employees have equal opportunities. In this scene, future employ-
ees are chosen by randomly pulling names out of two containers respec-
tively labelled ‘W’ and ‘O’. The Italian version contains neither subtitles
nor a voice-over to clarify that the letters stand for West and Ost (West and
East). Furthermore, the same scene also contains another socio-cultural
specificity. The Eastern workers who get a job shake hands with their new
colleagues. This cliché is generally associated with ‘Ossis’ (i.e. GDR Com-
munists), for which a handshake signalled belonging to a group. This was
only partly recognized by the German respondents. Germans aged between
50 and 60 understood the significance of the handshake as well as some
30–40-year-olds. No one below the age of 30 got the joke. Very few Italians
understood either. A female respondent from the GDR sub-sample belong-
ing to the 20–30-year-old age group claimed that it was quite normal for
colleagues to shake hands at work ‘relativ normale Begrüßung der Kollegen
beim Arbeitsanfang’ and another explained that it was what her parents did
whenever they walked into a room (i.e. parents who had obviously spent a
good part of their adult lives in East Berlin) ‘Meine Eltern haben auch immer
allen die Hand gegeben, wenn sie einen Raum betraten’. Conversely, a male from
Aachen (FRG) in the 31–40 age group found such handshaking quite out
of the ordinary: ‘Ist normalerweiser so nicht üblich’.
The Italians were hindered in understanding this scene, not only because
they had no idea what ‘W’ and ‘O’ stood for, but also because they could
not have known about the accent on equal opportunities and fairness pro-
fessed by the new, united Germany and thus missed another comic dimen-
sion. Yet despite all this missing knowledge, 64 per cent of Italian respondents
smiled at this scene, 14 per cent more than the FRG sample. The sub-sample
that smiled most of all was, of course, the GDR with 80 per cent.

4.3.3 ‘Reiner’s speech’ scene

This scene was especially difficult for Italians to understand, let alone find
funny (Table 7.1). Alex invites friends and neighbours and does his best to
replicate the atmosphere and look of the old regime in the flat. He even
invites a small choir to sing anthems of the ex-GDR and gives his mother
a hamper full of typically east German foodstuff as a birthday present.
His western brother-in-law, Reiner, however, finds it difficult to accept this
re-creation of communism in everyday life. So, Reiner, lacking in the actual
language of the old regime, in an attempt to sound authentic, adopts forms
of speech that are more similar to the totalitarian, Nazi system which was
probably familiar to him from school books. And it is through his odd use
of language that he gives away the fact that he is totally divorced from
the old way of life. The way Reiner speaks made 82 per cent of the GDR
sub-sample laugh. The west German sub-sample and the Italian sample
dovetail with respectively 36 per cent and 32 per cent of respondents
who laughed during this scene. While respondents watched this scene we
noted that they all laughed out loud irrespective of nationality or ethnicity.
What was especially funny was Alex who tries to suppress the way Reiner
speaks. Even if slightly different, Italians and ‘West Germans’ reacted in a
Table 7.1 Italian translation (dub) of Reiner’s attempt to emulate the language of
the ex-GDR.
Original Italian dub Back-translation
MUTTER: Und Reiner. Das ist MADRE: E lui è Reiner. Il MOTHER: He’s Reiner. Our
der neue Freund von meiner nuovo compagno della nostra Ariane’s new partner, who
Ariane. Er, er arbeitet als . . . Ariane. Reiner, se ho ben I think is a . . .
capito lavora come . . .
ALEX: Dispatcher. ALEX: Funzionario. ALEX: Official.
REINER: Genau, ich bin REINER: Sì io sono un REINER: Yes I’m an official.
Dispatcher. Ich war selber mal funzionario. E da bambino As a child I was a . . . a . . .
bei den frei . . . Herzliches facevo anch’io . . . come si what do you call them . . .
Glück auf, Pioniere! Ich war dice . . . facevo la Giovane I was a Junior Woodch . . .
selber mal bei den freien Marm . . . mm . . . cioè il a . . . Pioneer. I was a German
deutschen Pionieren. Pioniere. Ero una Marmotta Pioneer.
Pioniera di Germania.
ALEX: Danke Reiner. ALEX: Grazie Reiner. ALEX: Thank you Reiner.
REINER: Als Gruppen . . . REINER: Avevo il grado di . . . REINER: I was a . . . Gerarc
Gau . . . Gruppenvorstand Gerarc . . . Capocannoniere . . . Top scorer in the group.
Früher . . . del gruppo.
ALEX: Dankeschön! ALEX: Grazie Reiner. ALEX: Thank you Reiner.
REINER: Seid bereit, seid REINER: Dio è con noi. REINER God is with us.
bereit! Vittoria o morte. Victory or death!
ALEX: Danke, Reiner!! ALEX: Grazie Reiner!! ALEX: Thank you Reiner.

similar way. The Italian version was faced with the problem of trying to
replace Reiners’ speech with something similar. Presumably an option
could have been replacing the speech with Fascist jargon. Yet an attempt to
emulate a fascist way of talking would have been likely to confuse matters
further as it would have linked the situation to a specific time in Italian
history. Moreover, instead of keeping Reiner’s reference to young com-
munists, the Italian dubbing translator opts for a reference from Walt
Disney Giovani Marmotte (Junior Woodchucks) and replaces Squad Leader
with Capocannoniere (top goal scorer). The comic effect is assured as even
Italian viewers understand that Reiner is trying to pretend that he is East
German. The Jugend Pioniere and the Freie Deutsche Jugend were important
organizations for young people in the ex-GDR, in which, from the age of
six the values of the regime were conveyed to young people. By confusing
a name, Reiner makes it clear that he knows nothing of the ex-GDR,
furthermore, when he says Gau, which is short for Gauleiter, he refers to a
chief member of the Nazi party.
4.4.4 East and west stereotypes

Alex and Reiner are in the tiny kitchen quarrelling. Reiner accuses Alex of
being constantly dissatisfied and complaining about everything Ariane’s
boyfriend points out ‘East Germans love to complain, West Germans, they
don’t care.’ Alex accuses Reiner of not caring about the needs of others.
The tetchy East German and the indifferent, cold West German are clichés
that should be recognizable by the two German samples. True to form,
Italians did not get the stereotype at all with only 5 per cent admitting to
having laughed during this scene with others remaining indifferent. None
of the FRG sample laughed and 10 per cent smiled while only 9 per cent of
the GDR sample laughed and 18 per cent smiled during the scene. This
certainly begs the question, are they not laughing because they see the
scene as poking fun at themselves? In other words, the Germans may
well not have enough ‘measure of emotional distance from the subject
matter of that humour’(Oring 1992: 54) which might allow them to laugh
at themselves in view of the very nature of certain stereotypes displayed
in humorous discourse concerning their culture.
5. Discussion
As hypothesized in section 2, German respondents who watched a comic

film in German generally had a more positive Humour Response than

Italian respondents watching the same film in translation. The negative

Humour Response expressed by Italian respondents may be (at least) par-
tially due to their lack of socio-cultural knowledge of Germany, and in this
particular study, socio-cultural knowledge of East Germany. The negative
Humour Response expressed by Italians may, however, be (at least) partially
due to translational quality.
The Italian sample and the two German samples responded differently
to the same humorous stimuli irrespective of whether the humour was
expressed verbally, visually or whether based on historical knowledge and
stereotypes. Lack of knowledge of culture-specific elements that were often
crucial to the understanding of humour often passed unnoticed owing
to the fact that the dubbed version did not provide enough information
to enable the viewer to fill in the cultural gap. Age was a crucial factor in
both German and Italian samples; surprisingly, responses between the two
German subgroups differed more than responses between Italian and
German respondents. Italian and ‘East German’ answers often tended to
dovetail.
The success of the dubbing of Rainer’s ‘gaffes’, for example, shows that
the good quality adaptation of a sequence in a film can increase target
audiences’ enjoyment. Good or bad, dialogues can stick in viewers’ minds
long after having watched the film. It is through the words of the dubbing
translator’s that Italian audiences will remember a foreign film.
6. Conclusions
This study set out to compare the perception of the humour in a comic
feature film according to whether viewers watched the original version or a
dubbed version. Good Bye Lenin!, was screened to two groups of respondents
who, though they spoke the same language of the film, namely German,
were culturally divided as one group had always lived in west Germany
and the one group had lived in the GDR before 1989 and the fall of the
Wall. Comparing our data with data emerging from a group of Italian view-
ers who had watched the dubbed Italian version has allowed us to isolate
two variables that have a significant bearing on perception: language and
culture. This study highlights the importance of (a) cultural knowledge
and experience necessary to appreciate humour and (b) the impact of
emotional distance and the absence of prejudice which can produce
variations in emotional impact.

The data collected by means of purpose-built questionnaires set out to

test the degree of enjoyment, familiarity and understanding of cultural ele-
ments upon which different types of humour were based. Results confirm
that the quality of translation and adaptation that bears in mind the cul-
tural knowledge of the target audience has a strong impact on audience
perception and can make a significant difference to the successful transfer
of humorous content and therefore of comedy, the principle aim of which
is to amuse.
The differences in perception which have emerged from this study are
not only between Germans and Italians, but also between Germans with
different histories depending on whether they lived in the east or the west
prior to 1989. Thus reactions are not simply a matter of cultural distance
but, more importantly influenced by emotional distance too (see Rossato
2006: 96). The fact that the responses of Italians and Germans were often
similar can be explained in terms of their lack of emotional involvement.
Notes
1
The kind of jokes circulating in British playgrounds in the 1950s and 60s, for example, would
be unintelligible to schoolchildren of today. Opie and Opie (1959) quote a popular riddle of
the time which went “If Christie had two children, what would he call them?”. The answer was
‘Rop’em and Choke’em’ in reference to murderer Ian Christie who would tie up and strangle
his victims (see Chiaro page 14). Bucaria (2007) notes how David Letterman’s Late Show Top
Ten List, a regular segment of the television program The Late Show in which Letterman reads
out lists on humorous topics, often contains such highly culture-specific elements that they
can only be understood by people living in the USA at that particular moment.
2
The term ‘Humor Response’ was coined by Paul McGhee (1972) to refer to a person’s
reaction to humorous stimuli in terms of laughter and/or smiling.
3
Gianni Galassi received the prize for Miglior Doppiaggio Generale Cinema (‘Best Film
Dubbing’ – my translation) for Good Bye Lenin! at the Voci nell’Ombra festival held at Finale
Ligure, 2003. This is a yearly event which gives prizes to various operators in the Italian
dubbing industry.
4
La.BiBi.it is a Roman dubbing company that is well known not only for dubbing English
language films into Italian, but also films from other source languages such as, Les invasions
barbares (Denys Arcand, Canada and France, 2003), Coeurs (Alain Raisnais, France, 2006),
as well as popular TV series such as ER (USA, 1994–2006), X-Files (USA; 1993–2002) and
The OC (USA, 2003–2007).
5
The authors would like to thank Marina Biolchini, Sabrina Linardi and Falk Schulze for
their precious help and input.
6
There are numerous words that belong to the semantic field of humour, all of which differ
from one and other and yet, are also similar. The adjectives adopted in the questionnaire
were: sehr witzig, witzig, sarkastisch, humorvoll, ironisch, komisch (seltsam und lustig), lustig, lang-
weilig, melancholisch, nostalgisch, traurig, tragisch, beunruhigend (English: hilarious, comic,
sarcastic, humorous, ironic, funny, cheerful, boring, wistful, nostalgic, sad, tragic, disturb-
ing; Italian: esilarante, comico, sarcastico, umoristico, ironico, buffo, allegro, noioso, malinconico,
nostalgico, triste, tragico, inquietante). It is worth noting how close, yet how far, the translations
of each term differ in meaning from language to language. Respondents could also opt
for ‘none of the above’ (keines von den genannten / nessuno di questi).

7
Respondents were asked to choose between (a) It made me laugh (Hat mich zum Lachen
gebracht / Mi ha fatto ridere); (b) It made me smile (Hat mich zum Lächeln gebracht / Mi ha
fatto sorridere); (c) It left me indifferent (Hat mich gleichgültig gelassen / Mi ha lasciato
indifferente); (d) It moved me (Hat mich gerührt / Mi ha commosso); (e) None of the above
(Keines von den genannten / nessuno di questi).
8
German respondents were recruited in Berlin, Wuppertal and Elsterwerda and the Italian
sample in Vicenza and Forlì.
References
Antonini, R. (2005). ‘The perception of subtitled humour in Italy. An empirical
study’, Humour, Special Editon Humour and Translation, 18 (2), 209–25.
Bucaria, C. (2007). ‘Top 10 signs your Humour has been subtitled: The case of the
Late Show with David Letterman’. In Diana Popa and Salvatore Attardo (eds),
New Approaches to the Linguistics of Humor. Galati: Dunarea de Jos University
Press, 72–87.
Bucaria, C. and D. Chiaro (2007). ‘End user perception of screen translation:
The case of Italian dubbing’, TradTerm, 13, 91–118.
Chiaro, D. (2000). ‘“Servizio completo”? On the (un)translatability of puns
on screen’. In R. M. Bollettieri Bosinelli, C. R. M. Heiss, C. Soffrittti and
M. S. Bernardini (eds.), La Traduzione multimediale. Quale traduzione per quale
testo? Bologna: Clueb, 27–42.
humour on Italian TV’, ESP Across Cultures, 1, 35–52.
Chiaro, D. (ed.) (2005). Humor, International Journal of Humor Research, special
edition Humour and Translation. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 18, 2.
Chiaro, D.(2006). ‘Verbally Expressed Humour on Screen: Reflections on
Translation and Reception’. In Jostrans, The Journal of Specialised Translation 6:
www.jostrans.org/issue06
Chiaro, D. (2008). ‘Verbally expressed humor and translation’. In Victor Raskin
(ed.), The Primer of Humor Research. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 569–608.
Davies, C. (1998). Jokes and Their Relation to Society. Berlin and New York: Walter
de Gruyter.
Fuentes Luque, A. (2003). ‘An empirical approach to the reception of AV translated
humour. A case study of the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup’, Screen Translation.
Special issue The Translator, 9, (2), 293–306.
Goldberg, L. R. (1982). ‘From ace to zombie: Some explorations in the language
of personality’. In Charles D. Spielberger and James N. Butcher (eds), Advances
in Personality Assessment, vol. 1. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 203–34.
McGhee, Paul E. (1972). ‘On the cognitive origins of incongruity humour: fantasy
assimilation versus reality assimilation’. In Jeffrey H. Goldstein and Paul
E. McGhee (eds), The Psychology of Humor. London: Academic Press, 61–80.
Opie, I and P. Opie (1959). The Language and Lore of Schoolchidren. London: Oxford
University Press.
Oring, E. (1992). Jokes and their Relations. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky.
Rossato, L. (2006). ‘Cara Germania addio, quando le apparenze ingannano’.
In Maria Grazia Scelfo and Sandra Petroni (eds), Lingua, Cultura e Ideologia

nella Traduzione di Prodotti Multimediali: Cinema, Televisione e Web. Aracne: Rome,

77–106.
Ruch, W. (1992). ‘Assessment of appreciation of humor: Studies with the 3 WD
humor test’. In C. D. Spielberger and J. N. Butcher (eds), Advances in Personality
Assessment, vol 9. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 27–75.
Ruch, W. (1995). ‘A psycholexical study of the “sense of humor”: Taxonomizing
German humor-related nouns’. Lecture given at the Thirteenth International
Humor Conference, Birmingham, UK.

Chapter 8
Language-play, Translation and Quality – with

Examples from Dubbing and Subtitling
Thorsten Schröter
1. Introduction
In some texts, including many films and TV programmes, different types

of language-play occur with considerable frequency, while in others,
such phenomena may be virtually absent. Regardless of the number of
instances in a text, however, it can be assumed that each one of them has
a potentially important communicative function or effect. The precise
nature of this function or effect may be difficult to pinpoint, but it always
goes beyond the conveyance of propositional meaning. This circumstance
is actually a crucial component of my earlier attempt at a definition of
language-play:
Language-play, contrary to normal, or non-playful, fragments of conver-

sation and writing, is marked in the sense that the linguistic building
blocks involved draw attention to themselves and their form [. . .].
In other words, language-play is present where the peculiarities of a
linguistic system (or linguistic systems) have been exploited in such a way
that an aural and/or visual (and by extension: cognitive) effect is achieved
that would not be present, and perhaps consciously avoided, in language
used with a focus on propositional content. (Schröter 2005: 78–9)
As will be noticed, this definition remains on a rather general level

and does not by itself permit a straightforward distinction between
language-play and non-language-play in a given text. Yet the alternative,
that is a definition relying on very precise and narrow criteria for identifi-
cation, would be unwieldy and likely to miss plenty of passages intuitively
felt to be playful in nature.1 There thus seems to be no satisfactory way
of eliminating the grey area between clear language-play and clear non-
language-play, but the above approximation will suffice for my present

Language-play, Translation and Quality 139
purposes. These comprise an introduction to the types, functions and

effects of language-play, some remarks on its translatability, and a discus-
sion of issues concerning the quality of language-play and its translations.
While much of what I claim here applies to language-play in general, there
is a certain bias towards language-play in film and screen translation, not
least when it comes to the analysis of concrete examples.
2. Types of Language-play
Language-play is a rather broad concept, and in order to facilitate its

analysis and discussion, it is best split up into a number of more specific
categories (which, of course, may be subdivided in turn). Among the most
interesting and prominent of these subcategories are puns or wordplay,
not least in a translation (studies) context, where perhaps notorious would
be a still better descriptor.2
Puns rely on the fact that some distinct meanings may be expressed
through formally similar or even identical elements in a language. If one
or more of such elements, and their co-text, are intentionally arranged in
such a way that two or more of these distinct meanings are evoked almost
simultaneously, we have a pun. By way of example, let me quote the, to
my mind, most successful English-language pun in terms of structure
(unusual complexity paired with economy) and surprise effect that I have
encountered so far:
(1) Time flies like an arrow. – Fruit flies like a banana.
What makes this famous pun, attributed to Groucho Marx, so special is

that, in contrast to most other specimens, it hinges on two key elements,
namely flies and like, both of which act as part of the ambiguous co-text
for the other one while at the same time they themselves represent two
meanings each.
A type of language-play quite closely related to puns, and possibly con-
sidered a subcategory of the latter by some analysts, encompasses what
I have termed modified expressions, that is well-known quotes, proverbs and
other standard formulations that have been altered in unexpected ways
while still being recognizable. Consider the following examples:
(2) In for a cent, in for a euro.

(3) Thou shalt not speak with your mouth full.

Example 2 is modelled on the British proverb In for a penny, in for a

pound, while example 3 mimics the structure and vocabulary of the Ten
Commandments.
Related to the modified expressions are the nonce formations, that is
new lexical creations made up for a specific moment or restricted context.
Unlike the former, however, nonce formations remain on the word or
phrase level and need not be derived from linguistic units that are still
recognizable (cf. example 4), even though they often are (e.g. in portman-
teau words; cf. example 5):
(4) sprontlard chooquillo (your definition of choice)

(5) milskey (a hypothetical term for a ‘blend of milk and whiskey’)
Further categories of language-play include, but are not limited to, those
that rely on some form of repetition of sounds, especially rhymes, half-
rhymes and alliteration, and what might be labelled nonce pronunciation
(e.g., /læŋ'gweɪdʒi pə’laɪ/ for language-play). Of all the different types of
language-play, rhymes and alliteration are perhaps the most amenable to a
clear and narrow definition and also among the most readily recognizable
by the average person.
Note that one of the characteristics shared by all representatives of the
various categories is that they have been produced, or at least reproduced,
with a playful intention. Accidental ambiguities or inadvertently created
sound patterns, genuine slips of the tongue or typos, aphasic speech, etc.
do not result from a desire to create a marked aural and/or visual effect.
They become language-play only if they are repeated or quoted in order to
achieve such an effect and, provided this takes place in some form of inter-
personal transfer of ideas, a certain communicative function.
3. The Functions and Effects of Language-play
Among the possible functions and effects of language-play, whether

intended or actual, the following deserve to be mentioned (in no particular
order):
–humour, including all the functions and effects that humour can have in
turn, for example amusement, the release of tension, social management,
criticism, aggressiveness, or the re-evaluation of established ideas, catego-
ries and hierarchies (cf. e.g. Attardo 1994: 322–30; Miller 1988: 11–16);

–irony, including all the functions and effects that irony can have in turn,
often a combination of criticism and the creation of goodwill or amuse-
ment (cf. Pelsmaekers and van Besien 2002: 245);
–relaxing and/or playfully challenging one’s cognitive faculties (e.g.
through rebuses or crossword puzzles);
–drawing attention to, or sustaining interest in, the speaker/sender and
the message/text;
–characterizing the speaker/sender and the message/text;
–influencing the nature of subsequent discourse (especially in conver-
sation) or behaviour (e.g. in the case of commercials);
–avoiding censorship (by hiding behind the ‘harmless’ meaning in an
otherwise risqué or politically provocative pun);
–drawing attention to the properties of the linguistic system as such;
–becoming more proficient in a language and developing meta-linguistic
awareness (especially, but not exclusively, in connection with first- or
second-language acquisition).3
The above list, together with the preceding overview of language-play

categories, will suffice to illustrate that there is only a limited overlap
between language-play and humour (in the sense of, roughly, ‘that which is
perceived as funny’), because the former is comparatively concrete and
linguistic in nature, while the latter remains on the more abstract levels
of cognition and social interaction. Language-play can thus entail humour,
but not vice versa. Furthermore, language-play can fulfil several other
functions as well, and, for a given instance, humour need not be among
them. Especially rhymes, half-rhymes and alliteration are not normally
considered funny in themselves, for example.
4. The Translation of Language-play
Not so long ago, the general view had been that language-play, or at least
wordplay, the most illustrious subcategory of language-play, is impossible or
virtually impossible to translate into another language. Delabastita (1993:
173–7) quotes three dozen authors on the issue, the majority of whom
say as much. Some even consider untranslatability a defining criterion
of wordplay. What they mean, of course, is that puns rely so much on the

formal idiosyncrasies of one language that a direct translation would have

to lead to a loss of playful ambiguity – and thus of an important aspect
of the original function of the passage. In principle, this view could be
extended to most other types of language-play: for example, two items
rhyming or alliterating in one language cannot be expected to have close
counterparts in another language that also happen to rhyme or alliterate,
and when it comes to nonce pronunciation, it is even questionable whether
there can be anything like a ‘direct translation’ at all.
However, to consider word- and language-play untranslatable is neither
helpful nor accurate for at least two reasons. For one, translators do encoun-
ter language-play in the texts they are translating and, provided they recog-
nize it as such, need to take a decision as to what to do with it. In theory,
they have a wide range of options, including the following: simply trans-
ferring the source-language (SL) material into the target text; creating
target-language (TL) language-play (that may or may not belong to the
same category as the original); translating without creating TL language-
play (though possibly a similar effect); completely omitting the passage; or
creating TL language-play (or devices having a similar effect) in another
part of the text. My study on German and Swedish dubbing, as well as
German, Swedish, Norwegian and Danish subtitling, of language-play in
American and British films (Schröter 2005) showed that all of these strate-
gies were used to some extent, but that, in fact, the TL versions very often
featured language-play in the same spot as the SL version. All in all, there
was language-play in more than 50 per cent of the TL versions of passages
featuring SL language-play (Schröter 2005: 356), confirming what has been
clear with respect to wordplay at least since Delabastita (1993, 1996, 1997)
and Heibert (1993), and even before (e.g. Grassegger 1985), namely that
language-play is not at all ‘untranslatable’ if one only broadens the defini-
tion of translatability a little. I would even follow those who claim that
whatever the translator’s decision, even if it is complete omission, it will be
part of, or affect, the target text as a whole, and should thus be considered
a translation solution.4
The second reason why postulating the general untranslatability of all
word- or language-play is misleading is that it is simply wrong even in the
narrow sense. One of the most striking findings of the study referred to
above was that even the supposedly untranslatable puns could often be
subjected to a direct translation and still retain their status as puns. In fact,
that was the case in about half of the more than 1,000 TL solutions for
the 200 clear cases of English SL polysemic (i.e. relying on identical forms
and obviously related meanings) puns in my corpus (Schröter 2005: 235).

To some extent, this large share can be explained by the fact that all the
target languages considered in the study belong to the same family as
the source language, but I also think that the similarity of polysemous rela-
tionships across different languages, and possibly even across language
families, is greater than has usually been recognized in the discussions on
pun translation. This is important since, at least in my corpus, polysemic
puns were clearly the most common type of pun. However, other kinds of
language-play could also occasionally be transferred directly without much
creative effort.
To sum up, language-play is regularly subjected to translation and is thus
translatable, sometimes even in the very narrow sense of ‘directly trans-
ferable’ (cf. also Rosas 2001: 85–8, among others) and, I should add, even
under the special constraints of dubbing and subtitling.5
However, what I have largely steered clear of so far, both here and in
my explorations of language-play in screen translation in general, is the
question of quality. In order to do justice to the interest this holds, while at
the same time illustrating that my previous reluctance to deal with the topic
has ultimately been wise, I use the remainder of this chapter to address two
overlapping quality issues, namely:
–Can the quality of an instance of language-play, and its translations,

be assessed in an objective manner?
–To what extent can the treatment of language-play in translation be
taken as an indicator of the overall quality of the target text?
5. Assessing the Quality of Language-play and

Its Translation – Examples
While the discipline of Translation Studies has grown enormously in recent

decades, questions of quality are not often addressed directly within its
domain, and the evaluation of translations in terms of good or bad is virtually
taboo. One of the few scholars to explicitly deal with translation quality
assessment is House (1997; see also 2004 for a summary), but while she sets
up a number of criteria for comparing target texts with their source texts
in terms of quality, her model at best provides general ideas for what
to consider in a fine-grained comparison of individual instances of SL
language-play with their TL renderings. This is so, in part, because passages
of language-play tend to be so unusual: very short, but often also very com-
plex with respect to form, meaning, context-dependence, effect and function.

Let me illustrate the problems involved with a couple of examples. The

first is from Babe (1995), an Australian-American family film about a piglet
that teaches some sheep dogs, and us the viewers, that one can achieve
more with friendliness and respect than with threats and violence.
The scene quoted (including the German dubbed version and a Danish
subtitle version) is from the beginning of the film, where Babe acquaints
himself with the farm he is living on:
(6) Babe comes to a female sheep’s shed. The sheep thinks that Babe
is a ‘wolf’ and keeps the door closed so that Babe cannot look
inside.
Babe: I’m not a wolf, I’m a pig. What are you?
Sheep: Ewe.
Babe: Pig. What are YOU?
Sheep: I’m a ewe. A ewe!
Babe: You’re a sheep!
Danish subtitles Back translation
*-Jeg er en gris. Hvem er du? -I am a pig. Who are you?
-Hunfår. -Female sheep/ewe.
*Gris. Hvad er du? Pig. What are you?
*Jeg er et hunfår! I am a female sheep/ewe!
*-Du er et får! […] You are a sheep!
[* indicates a new subtitle]
German dubbing Back translation
Ich bin kein Wolf. Ich bin ein I am not a wolf. I am a
Schwein. Was bist du? pig. What are you?
Mu- (coughs)
Was- Was bist du? What- What are you?
Ein Mutter- Ein Mutterschaf. A mother- A mother sheep/ewe.
Ach, du bist ein Schaf. Oh, you are a sheep.
The original exchange between Babe and the sheep features a pun
centring on the homophonous (i.e. sharing a pronunciation but not the
spelling) items ewe and you. Note that even though we seem to have a ‘mere’
misunderstanding on the level of the narrative, there can be no doubt
that the passage represents intentional play with the language on the part
of the scriptwriter. The Danish subtitles, by contrast, illustrate what can
happen if one only translates one of the items/meanings of the original

pun, in this case /ju:/ → hunfår, without adapting the rest of the dialogue.
The result is incoherence and thus an intuitively poor solution.
In the German dubbed version, the pun is lost too, but the passage at
least makes sense. So, if one were to rank the three versions in terms
of quality, the original, with the pun, would probably come out on top,
followed by the German translation and then the Danish one. Yet a total
assessment of the quality would also have to take the following aspects
into account, among others:
–How well-formed and successful is the English pun, really? For it to

function, it requires the non-standard and somewhat unnatural omission
of the indefinite article before the first ewe, making it seem a bit con-
trived. Furthermore, it is not certain whether the main target group of
Babe, that is relatively young children, are familiar with the word ewe, and
not even the subsequent utterances I am a ewe. A ewe! – You’re a sheep!
might be explanation enough, for those who do not know the word, to
understand the joke. Could a non-punning solution actually be better
than this potentially opaque and confusing wordplay? Or should one
consider precisely this passage as one of those primarily directed at older
viewers? (Cf. for example Pepper (2004: 49) about the appeal of some
modern ‘children’s films’ for adults.)
–Babe has been both dubbed and subtitled into Danish. It can thus be
assumed that in general, those choosing to watch the film in its subtitled
version will have achieved a certain degree of proficiency in English,
in which case they may follow the spoken dialogue and the Danish ren-
dering simultaneously, essentially using the latter to make sure that they
have understood the former correctly. If this is true, and I am not saying
that this is indeed the case for all viewers, it merits some consideration;
the audience might be served well by a TL version that reveals the
meaning of rare lexical items such as ewe and does not introduce new
material (an unrelated pun, say), even if this implies a momentary lack
of coherence when the TL version is read and analyzed in isolation.
–When it comes to the German dubbing, it is interesting to note that
the ewe is not actually visible during the exchange, which may make one
wonder why she is made to cough and stutter in that version as if lip synch
had played a role. Of course, the first cough explains why Babe has to ask
twice about the identity of his interlocutor, but would it be going too far
to suggest that the Mu- might actually be an attempt at a TL pun drawing
on the sound cows are said to make in German (muh)?

What I want to show with these questions is that there is a large number
of factors that contribute to the overall quality of an instance of language-
play, many of which cannot be gauged with any confidence due to lack of
background information.
Consider another example, from Rugrats in Paris: The Movie (2000), a
feature-length cartoon about a gang of very small American children
wreaking havoc in the capital of France. The excerpt is from a song and
contains rhymes and half-rhymes (a half-rhyme, as the label suggests,
functions essentially like a rhyme without being one in the strict sense):
(7) Hang on to your diapies – don’t lose your bib

Get movin’, babies
I hope we’re all packed
We don’t know when we’re gonna get back
No time to worry ’bout gettin’ stinky
I hope you remember to pack your binky
We’re taking off – whee
We’re on our way to France, Paree
German dubbing:
Beeilt euch, ihr Babys
Nehmt Abschied von zu Haus
Denn wann wir wiederkommen ist leider noch nicht raus
Schnallt die Windeln enger
Der Flug, der dauert länger
Und packt den Extra-Schnuller ins Handgepäck
Schon ist die Startbahn klar
In ein paar Stunden sind wir da
One could analyse the original version as featuring three instances of

language-play: two rhymes and one half-rhyme. The German dubbers took
some liberties with the lyrics (as the focus is on the formal properties of
just a few words, we can do without a back translation here), but stuck to
the general topics and also managed to produce the same number of
rhymes and half-rhymes. Note, however, that at least two of these occur in
slightly removed parts of the song and that the last SL rhyme has been
turned into a TL half-rhyme whereas the chronologically/spatially closest
TL counterpart of the SL half-rhyme is a rhyme.
Since rhymes are somehow ‘purer’ than half-rhymes, and also more
difficult to achieve, they might intuitively be considered of a higher quality.

If this were all that there is to it, one of the SL instances (the half-rhyme)
would have been improved in the target text, one (the first rhyme) would
have been given a ‘qualitatively equivalent’ TL counterpart, and one (the
second rhyme) would have been rendered somewhat poorly. However,
all these instances interact with each other, so that the overall effect
created by the language-play in the SL and TL versions may well remain
constant in this case. Or should one perhaps differentiate a little more
between individual rhymes and half-rhymes? For example, the acceptability
of the whee – Paree rhyme, which appears very much ad hoc compared with
e.g. stinky – binky, could be debated. Or is it precisely its ad-hoc-ness that
commends the former?
I’ll leave these questions open, but would like to round off the discussion
of example 7 by pointing out that most of the dubbed and subtitled
versions of this passage that I have looked at feature rhymes and half-rhymes
to different degrees, except the Norwegian subtitles, which represent
a quite direct translation with no language-play. Are these subtitles thus
qualitatively poorer than the other versions – or simply less demanding/
confusing, at least for the hearing viewers (cf. also the Danish subtitles
in example 6)?
6. Assessing the Quality of Language-play and Its

Translations – Factors to Take into Account
I suggest that the following factors, some of which have already been hinted
at in the discussion above, contribute to the quality (in a neutral sense) of
an instance of language-play, whether it appears in a source or a target text:
–its prominence in the text, that is how strongly it is signalled, or signals

itself; in other words, how easily it is recognizable as something formally
and functionally important, noteworthy, out of the ordinary;
–related to the above: how obviously it was intended;
–the category/-ies it can be referred to, and also its complexity – does
it comprise several playful strategies (e.g., modified expression plus
pun), or the same strategy used repeatedly (e.g., three or more words
alliterating with each other rather than just two), or simply one strategy
employed once?
–its purity or language-play-ness, that is how far removed it is from the
fuzzy borderline with non-language-play;

–especially relevant in a film or multimedia context: whether and how

the verbal play interacts with the non-verbal elements of the artistic
whole of the film or programme (e.g. is the picture needed or helpful
with respect to recognizing and understanding the language-play?);
–its accessibility, or the processing effort required to understand it; also,
whether it makes sense at all;
–the apparently intended functions and the actual effect (both in the
immediate co-text and for the text as a whole; for a list of possible
functions and effects, cf. section 3);
–closely related to the above: how natural or contrived it appears (its
structure and content), and whether it seems motivated in the context.
As will be clear, most of these factors cannot be measured in an entirely

objective and/or practical manner. One can, for example, never know for
certain what the authors of language-play had intended with it, even if one
could ask them, since not even they themselves might be aware of all their
motives at the time. It would also be very difficult and require advanced
technology, if it is at all possible, to measure the cognitive processing efforts
by people exposed to language-play. And to achieve at least a moderate
degree of validity when it comes to gauging the actual effect of language-
play on audiences, relatively intricate perception tests with more than just
a few respondents would have to be carried out. In fact, not even the seem-
ingly most straightforward ones of the factors listed above (the prominence
of the language-play in the text, its type, and the interplay with non-verbal
elements) can always be assessed with 100 per cent confidence.
In view of the above, it will come as no surprise if I claim that a compre-
hensive description and objective comparison of language-play quality is
a rather hopeless endeavour unless one develops methods to deal with the
contributing factors in a scientific and rewarding manner. This will not
be easy, especially if we can agree that the decisive factor is one of the
most elusive ones: the actual effect that the language-play has on all
those coming across it. In principle, the same goes of course for non-playful
translations of language-play.6
That said, it is possible, at least in theory, to devise criteria for considering
a certain SL or TL passage more well-formed, fitting, appealing, or even
better than another. One might stipulate, for example, that a play on both
meaning and form scores higher than a play on just form; that the surprise
effect should be strong, but the required processing effort small; that the

language-play should be suitable, content-wise, for an imagined audience

of average 8-year-olds, strict Catholics, or liberal academics (as the case
may be); that among the possible effects, amusement counts for more than
annoyance, etc. The quality of an instance of language-play, even in terms
of good or bad, would then depend on the degree to which the chosen
criteria are fulfilled, provided that this could be measured.
7. The Treatment of Language-play in Translation as an

Indicator of the Quality of the Entire Target Text
Much of what I have said about the difficult assessment of individual

instances of language-play and their translation also has ramifications for
the broader issue indicated in the above heading: in principle, the treat-
ment of language-play in translation is of limited use when it comes to
estimating the overall quality of the target text since it constitutes only
one of many complex factors that determine this quality (including the text
type we are dealing with, the imagined audience, the intended function,
etc). All I can offer here is a simplified, though not necessarily unrealistic,
scenario in which the predictive power of the treatment of language-play
would be a little greater. For this purpose, I think it is fair to assume the
following:
–The absolute number of instances of language-play in a text, as well as

their frequency of occurrence, plays a role for the overall function and
reception of this text, or its quality in a neutral sense.
–When it comes to translation quality, it is, at the beginning of the
twenty-first century and in the part of the world I normally consider
myself a part or product of, that is (Western/Central/Northern) Europe,
generally considered desirable to achieve an equivalence of effect in
(screen) translation while at the same time sticking as close as is possible
to the source text.
For all the translation assignments where not just the first but also the
second assumption actually holds true, this might reasonably be taken to
imply that all SL language-play should be rendered as TL language-play,
and that the latter should preferably be of the same type and occur in
the same spot as the former. If this can be accepted as well, then a simple
quantitative comparison can reveal something about the quality of the

target text as a whole. In fact, the higher the frequency of occurrence of

language-play in the source text, the stronger the connection between
quantity and quality.
A less direct, but also a more powerful, way in which the translation of
language-play can be taken as an indicator of overall translation quality
is that the rendering of SL language-play, especially of the ‘untranslatable’
varieties, as TL language-play presupposes certain perceptive powers on
the part of the translator, a willingness to make an extra effort for the sake
of quality, and the ability to achieve relatively advanced translatorial goals.
Where a translator has given proof of these virtues in connection with
language-play, there is some reason to assume that the rest of the target
text has received careful attention as well.
8. Conclusion
Most of what I have said here applies to language-play and its translation
in general. When the focus is on screen translation, matters become
even more complicated, because of the specific constraints of for example
dubbing and subtitling, including the interplay with the simultaneously
present picture and original dialogue (in the case of subtitling). As I have
shown, the latter circumstance might even lead to a re-evaluation of what at
first appears to be a very poor translation, and the same could be imagined
if for example the requirements of lip synch are taken into account. I thus
do not deny the theoretical possibility of assessing the quality, as opposed
to the quantity, of language-play and its translations in a relatively objective
manner. It is just that for the time being I consider this so complex an
endeavour that unless one chooses to simplify matters drastically, it would
be almost impossible to do in practice.
Notes
1
For a more detailed discussion of the problem of identifying language play, cf. for
example Schröter (2005: 79–84), where I draw heavily on Dirk Delabastita’s work on puns
(especially Delabastita 1993: 117–33, 160–5).
2
Since many people, including one of the foremost experts on puns and their translation,
Delabastita (e.g. 1993, 1996, 1997), use pun and wordplay as synonyms, it might cause unnec-
essary confusion not to follow suit. This is part of the reason why I speak of language-play
when discussing the more general concept.
Note that puns are commonly divided further into varying numbers of subcategories;
cf. Hausmann (1974: passim), Heibert (1993: 44–106) and Schröter (2005: 160–8), among
others.

3
For further functions and effects, plus more information on some of those mentioned, cf.
for example Delabastita (1993: 137–51).
4
I am presupposing that the translator is actually trying to translate the text (in a general,
non-technical, everyday sense of the term), even though I am aware that it is impossible
to draw a clear line between, on the one hand, what is commonly considered a translation
and, on the other, adaptations and more or less closely related forms of rewriting (cf. e.g.
Gambier 2004).
5
Gottlieb (1997) has already shown convincingly that in almost all cases, not even the
complexities of subtitling need prevent the translation of SL wordplay into TL wordplay
if one only tries hard enough.
6
Heibert (1993: 184–94) dared to categorize wordplay translations in terms of for example
perfekt, akzeptabel, falsch (‘wrong’(!)), and schlecht (‘bad’), but this aspect of his study is
certainly the most open to criticism (cf. Delabastita 1994: 239; Schröter 2005: 123).
References
Attardo, S. (1994). Linguistic Theories of Humor. Berlin and New York: Mouton de
Gruyter.
Babe [feature film] (1995); directed by C. Noonan; written by D. King-Smith (novel)
and G. Miller and C. Noonan (screenplay); produced by Kennedy Miller
Productions and Universal Pictures.
Delabastita, D. (1993). There’s a Double Tongue: An Investigation into the Translation of
Shakespeare’s Wordplay, with Special Reference to Hamlet. Amsterdam and Atlanta:
Rodopi.
—(1994). ‘Focus on the pun: wordplay as a special problem in Translation Studies’,
Target: International Journal on Translation Studies, 6 (2), 223–43.
Delabastita, D. (ed.) (1996). The Translator: Studies in Intercultural Communication 2
(2) [special issue: Wordplay and Translation].
Delabastita, D. (ed.) (1997). Traductio: Essays on Punning and Translation. Manchester:
St. Jerome and Namur: Presses Universitaires de Namur.
Gambier, Y. (2004), ‘Tradaptation cinématographique’. In P. Orero (ed.), Topics in
Audiovisual Translation. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 169–81.
Gottlieb, H. (1997). ‘You got the picture? On the polysemiotics of subtitling
wordplay’. In D. Delabastita (ed.), 207–32.
Grassegger, H. (1985). Sprachspiel und Übersetzung: eine Studie anhand der Comic-Serie
Asterix. Tübingen: Stauffenburg.
Hausmann, F. J. (1974). Studien zu einer Linguistik des Wortspiels: Das Wortspiel im
‘Canard enchaîné’. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer.
Heibert, F. (1993). Das Wortspiel als Stilmittel und seine Übersetzung: am Beispiel von
sieben Übersetzungen des ‘Ulysses’ von James Joyce. Tübingen: Gunter Narr.
House, J. (1997). Translation Quality Assessment: A Model Revisited. Tübingen: Gunter
Narr.
—(2004). ‘Concepts and methods of translation criticism: A linguistic perspective’.
In H. Kittel, A. P. Frank, N. Greiner, T. Hermans, W. Koller, J. Lambert and
F. Paul (eds), Übersetzung Translation Traduction: Ein internationales Handbuch
zur Übersetzungsforschung/An International Encyclopedia of Translation Studies/
Encyclopédie internationale de la recherche sur la traduction. Berlin and New York:
Walter de Gruyter, 698–719.

Miller, J. (1988). ‘Jokes and joking: A serious laughing matter’. In J. Durant and
J. Miller (eds), Laughing Matters: A Serious Look at Humour. Harlow: Longman,
5–16.
Pelsmaekers, K. and van Besien, F. (2002). ‘Subtitling irony: Blackadder in Dutch’.
The Translator: Studies in Intercultural Communication 8 (2) [special issue:
J. Vandaele (ed.), Translating Humour], 241–66.
Pepper, T. (2004). ‘Not just for children’. Newsweek 2 February, 49–50.
Rosas, M. (2001). Tradução de Humor: transcriando piadas. Rio de Janeiro: Lucerna.
Rugrats in Paris: The Movie [feature film] (2000); directed by S. Bergqvist and
P. Demeyer; written by D. N. Weiss et al.; produced by Paramount Pictures,
Nickelodeon Movies, et al.
Schröter, T. (2005). Shun the Pun, Rescue the Rhyme? The Dubbing and Subtitling
of Language-Play in Film [doctoral dissertation]. Karlstad, Sweden: Karlstad
University Studies.

Chapter 9
Woody Allen’s Themes through his Films,

and his Films through their Translations
Patrick Zabalbeascoa
1. Introduction
Woody Allen combines a series of factors that make his work probably quite
unique, and definitely fascinating material for translation and humour
studies alike. The main point of this chapter is that a good look at Allen’s
work and translations of his work can provide greater insight and awareness
into comedy and audiovisual translation. What exactly are the characteris-
tics of his work that make him so interesting from this point of view? First
of all, there is the sheer volume of his work (over 40 feature films). Then,
there is the longevity of his professional and creative output. Thirdly, and
related to the previous two points is the fact that he seems to have pet
themes and pet strategies, as well as regular sources of inspiration. Thus,
the working hypothesis in this chapter is that when translators come across
a film-maker like Allen, they would do well to become familiar with his
style, and his favourite recipes and ingredients. I like to look upon translat-
ing as a problem-solving activity. And important clues for coming up with
solutions for translating many of the problems posed by Woody Allen can
be found in his previous work. One might think it is a bit late in the day for
such an awareness-raising exercise to be of any practical use, given Allen’s
age. Well, we might still be just in time for another fistful of films yet, if we
consider that he produces at a rate of about one a year, and has not shown
any signs of flagging. And even if he were to produce no more films, I hope
this study is not altogether useless for two reasons. One is that there is a case
for retranslating some of his films, both in subtitles and in dubbing, at
least in Spanish. The other reason is the hope that what is said of Woody
Allen’s films and their translations may turn out to be a useful guide for the
translation of present and future film-makers who might share some of the
characteristics put forth in this study. Last but not least, is the suspicion that
by tracking Woody Allen in German, Italian, French and Spanish, over a

time span of practically four decades we can provide a cross-section of the

history of dubbing and audiovisual translation in Germany, Italy, France
and Spain. In Spain, for instance, this period goes from the dying years of
the Franco regime all the way to Spain’s full integration into European
institutions. On the audiovisual scene, it goes from Spanish and dubbing
only to a wider range of languages and audiovisual translation practices.
Aspects of his films appear recurrently and might provide clues towards
solving some tricky translation problems. Word play and irony have always
been seen as challenging translation problems. The first problem resides
in identifying them. Many a howler in translation comes from aspects of
the source text which are missed, I would venture to hypothesize, more so
than difficulties in commanding one’s own language. Alongside howlers or
serious differences between a source text and its target, in less judgemental
terms, we find solutions that cannot be properly assigned to either defects
in source language comprehension, or in the translator’s knowledge of the
target language, but rather in a certain ‘ethics’, or ‘theory’, of translation;
i.e. the translator is aware of what is at stake but is constrained by a notion
of what one is obliged to do or abstain from doing in translation. A typical
case in point is what to do with proper nouns; a lot of translators feel it is
their sacred duty to leave proper nouns untouched, whereas others regard
names as textual constituents that require that their textual role be estab-
lished before they can know what is to be done with them. Others seem to
think that names are to be adapted wholesale. Woody Allen’s films translated
provide evidence of all of these dynamics. There is lack of comprehension,
lack of command of the target language, and thirdly it is plausible to hypo-
thesize that some renderings can be well accounted for by the translator’s
reluctance to draw away from text-book, orthodox, safe strategies.
2. Religion
Religion, and religious references and allusions are an important part of

Allen’s film production. He makes ample use of a wide range of elements
of the Jewish religion, mostly, though Catholicism is present in a number of
his films. This poses serious problems to Allen’s translators into Spanish.
The first is the clear mismatch of the presence and perception of these two
religions in the USA and in Spain. For historical reasons, the Spanish are
quite ignorant of the details of Jewish cultural practices and rituals that do
not overlap with Christianity. Judaism is perceived as something that there
used to be a lot of in the Middle Ages, but nowadays one only hears about

Woody Allen’s Films 155
through Hollywood or connected to Zionism and the State of Israel. We

might say that Allen has done much to spread an alternative image in
Spain of (American) Jewish people. There is a problem of point of view,
however. Allen approaches his family’s religion as a critical insider, a
member of the numerous and influential Jewish community in the USA;
and he approaches Catholicism as a critical outsider, like many American
WASPs, as well as Jews. Most Spanish, though, have had a Catholic (culture)
upbringing, and will find Allen’s approach to Catholicism as a minority
religion funny for reasons that probably do not coincide with the author’s
original intentions. Example (1), Catskills, I think, illustrates the sort of
problem we are up against.
(1) Catskills
‘Where’d you meet him?’ ‘In the Catskills.’
(from Radio Days)
‘There’s an old joke. Uh, two elderly women are at a Catskills

mountain resort, and one of ’em says: “Boy, the food at this place
is really terrible.” The other one says, “Yeah, I know, and such . . .
small portions.”’
(from Annie Hall)
In both cases, the Spanish subtitled version is word for word, and the
dubbed version adds the word ‘mountains’. Geographical and topographi-
cal accuracy are preserved at all times. But it is probably a little too much
to expect of many Spanish spectators exactly what the implications of the
Catskills are, so that they can understand the type of place it is and its
importance to the dialogue and the plot. In Annie Hall in particular the
Catskills is the signal that the joke (Nash 1985) is going to be a joke that
belongs to category of jokes that deal with the stereotype of Jews as being
thrifty. The addition of the word mountains probably does more harm
than good because viewers who cannot find the relevance of the Catskills
may try and make the inference that the jokes belong to the category
of jokes about mountaineers. A possible solution might have been to
substitute the elderly women at the Catskills mountain resort for two
elderly Jewish women on holiday. Of course, the Annie Hall joke could lose
its Jewish flavour all together, and be about two mean old ladies, since
Jewishness is not relevant to the point that the speaker wishes to illustrate
with this joke. It is also interesting to note how difficult it is to be politi-
cally correct, because the joke might still seem offensive to old people,

or to women. In Alice, for example, the following joke (as well as example 2,
below) might draw a blank reaction in Spain: ‘nothing sexier than a lapsed
Catholic’.
(2) Catholicism
Dr. Yang: ‘Now, tell me what you see.’
Alice: ‘Penguins.’
Dr. Yang: ‘Penguins? What about penguins?’
Alice: ‘They mate for life.’
Dr. Yang: ‘Yes? You think penguins are Catholic?’
(from Alice)
3. Anti-Semitism
Connected to the Jewish theme is Allen’s constant references to anti-

Semitism. The reasons for this are not altogether clear. He might have his
own agenda for denouncing anti-Semitism, or it might be a compensatory
strategy for all of his own criticism and parody of Jewish practices and
behaviour. Allen tends to tie in anti-Semitism with paranoia, so he also
criticizes systematic and ill-founded accusations of anti-Semitism. There
are several good examples of this in Annie Hall. Here is one of them, in
example (3).
(3) Didchoo
Wh – How am I a paran-? Well, I pick up those kind ’o things. You
know, I was having lunch with some guys from NBC, so I said . . . uh,
‘Did you eat yet or what?’ and Tom Christie said, ‘No, did you,
didchoo eat? Jew? No, not did you eat, but jew eat? . . . Jew. You
get it? Jew eat?
(from Annie Hall)
Example didchoo is difficult to translate because it relies on a feature of

the English language, the similarity in pronunciation between one word,
‘Jew’, and two other words, ‘did you’.
Dubbed into Spanish:
Salía de la radio con unos tipos y les dije: ¿Qué, habéis comido ya? Y
Tom Christie dijo: “Sí, judías”, no dijo “Sí, he comido”, sino: “sí, judías”,
¿comprendes? “Sí, judías, ¿entiendes? ¡Judías!”

Back translation:
I was leaving the radio with some guys and I said to them, ‘So, did you eat
yet?’ And Tom Christie said, ‘Yes, beans’, he didn’t say, ‘Yes, I’ve eaten’,
but, ‘Yes, beans’, understand? ‘Yes, beans’ understand? Beans! [In
Spanish, the word for bean, judía, is a homophone for Jewish female].
The English version is funny because the character is trying to deny

his paranoia with an example that shows clearly that is very paranoiac. How
is this done? Well, among various elements, not least is that fact that ‘did
you’ pronounced exactly the same as ‘jew’ is perfectly normal, so is the
alleged anti-Semitist’s reply, which means that any attempt to identify a
racist attack can only be explained in terms of paranoia. The problem in
any translation, then, would be to turn Christie’s reply into anything but
absolutely normal and natural, which is the case in the Spanish version
since Alvy is not asking Tom what he’s eaten, simply whether he’s had lunch,
the implication probably being that if he hasn’t why doesn’t he join the
party for a bite, or has he finished yet. Furthermore, ‘beans’ doesn’t sound
like the usual name for a meal, or dish, not in its Spanish wording, at least.
These two reasons would actually show Alvy as being much less paranoiac
than in English. Indeed, ‘judío’ does not provide the Spanish translator
with much to choose from, but if ‘judías’ is all you can think of, then an
interesting alternative may be to change the question, so that ‘judías’ could
at least sound natural and normal as an answer to whatever the question
happens to be. This can be done in this case because the speakers are so
far from the camera that lips cannot be seen at all, added to the fact that
nothing that is going on on-screen at that time (they are walking down a
street, chatting) has anything to do with the conversation that is being
reported. The conversation could be more along the lines of: ‘I was having
lunch with some guys from NBC, and asked one what he was going to
have with his steak, and Tom Christie said ‘beans’, get it? Beans sounds
like jew, don’t you think?’ In any case, we would still have the problem of
judío being male singular and judías being female plural, which makes the
brilliance of the script in English lose some of its shine.
There is still another problem associated with this example. Alvy provides
a linguistic explanation of phonological assimilation by illustrating the
cline from ‘did you’ to ‘Jew’ passing through ‘didchoo’. If the translation,
however, repeats exactly the same word every time Alvy provides a slightly
different pronunciation to illustrate his point, he sounds verbally incompe-
tent, unable to explain more fully what he is complaining about. And in the

dubbed version his voice seems to rise in pitch as he repeats the word
confirming the image of someone who is frustrated at not being able to
express himself any better, almost to the point of hysteria. But in the film
Alvy is actually quite the opposite. As a character, he is portrayed as being
intelligent and verbally very competent. When Annie can’t think of the
term that defines what her great uncle suffered from, narcolepsy, Alvy
provides the word in an instant. So it doesn’t make sense for him to be
repeating the word ‘beans’ over and over. Assimilation is not nearly as
frequent in Spanish as it is in English. Even so, there are some possibilities,
such as the following one:
¿Cómo que soy parano-? No, pero a mí no se me escapa una. El otro día
estuve con unos de la tele, parece que les van a despedir, sabes, y le digo
a uno “¿Qué, Tom? ¿Cómo estás?” Y me dice: “Jodío”, no dijo “jodido”,
sino “jodío” y como lo dijo sonaba a “judío” ¿entiendes? Jodío, judío.
Gloss:
What? I’m paran . . .? It’s just that I catch them all. The other day I was
with some guys from the TV. Looks like they’re going to be laid off, you
know. I say to one of them, ‘So, Tom, how are you?’ And he says, ‘messed
up’, he didn’t say ‘messed up’, but ‘messed up’, and the way he said it it
sounded like ‘Jew’ You get it? Messed up, Jew.
In this case, although the word is repeated, it is clearly pronounced

differently each time, which justifies its repetition, added to the fact that
the relaxed pronunciation is perfectly normal and natural in Spanish,
unlike the full pronunciation for such a taboo word.
(4) German Jew

–Spinoza was a Jew.
–What’s a Jew?
–You never saw a Jew?
–Here. I have some sketches.
–There are Jews.
–No kidding.
–They all have these horns?
–No, this is the Russian Jew.
–The German Jew has these stripes.
(from Love and Death)

Spanish:
Dub: El judío alemán tiene esos galones.
Sub: El judío alemán es a rayas.
In this example from Love and Death, the translation for the dubbed
version and the one for the subtitled version have chosen to interpret
stripes differently. For the dubbed version it has to do with military rank,
for the subtitles stripes is translated to refer to animal stripes. Although
Franco was never known to be sympathetic towards the Jews, religion was
probably a greater taboo than having a go at Jews even.
4. New York, Paris, Hollywood and California
Translating references of anywhere as being exotic and strange must always

sound a bit odd when the place referred to as exotic happens to be where
the intended users of the translation are from, and this is the case of Europe,
in general, and Paris in particular, on numerous occasions throughout
Woody Allen’s film production. Notwithstanding, people might be aware
that they are regarded as exotic elsewhere, so then it is a case of how much
they like or resent the fact.
(5)
–Your movie. The French saw your movie in Paris.
–They say it’s the greatest American film in years!
–You’re kidding.
–You’re being hailed as a true artist. A great genius!
–And France sets the tone for the rest of Europe.
–I already have offers for you to make a movie in Paris. A love story!
–Paris, France! Where they talk French. It’s like New York.
–This is the best news. It’s unbelievable.
–Here I’m a bum, but there . . . a genius!
–Thank God the French exist.
–This is my life’s dream . . . we’re going to live in Paris.
–I can’t tell you how thrilled I am.
(from Hollywood Ending)
(6) Kinky
–Everybody here’s a bit ambivalent.
–Sexy stuff.

–Yeah.
–Like you. Sort of European. We did it in Paris.
–Sort of kinky.
–Kinky . . .
(from Alice; 29.46)
(7) ‘Neat’
Alvy (still walking next to her): ‘Neat’! There’s that – What are
you-twelve years old? That’s one o’ your Chippewa Falls expressions!
‘He thinks I’m neat.’
(from Annie Hall)
In Annie Hall, Allen attacks California as a New York rival, but mostly
New York is used in this film as a symbol of the metropolis, especially in
contrast to the mid-West, where Annie is from. His character (Alvy) is from
New York, well-read and in the know. Annie is smart but she is clearly a
country girl. It is important for translators to realize their responsibility
in portraying character traits such as these in the linguistic expressions
they come up with. Of course, you can’t find any word in Spanish that
could identify the speaker as being from Chippewa Falls. What matters
is the contrast between modern, urban language and more traditional
country-folk expressions, or phrases that are simply no longer in. This goes
on at several points during the film, and the characters often make explicit
references to the fact, so the translator really has a lot of clues to go by.
5. Freud and Psychiatry
A common trait of many of Allen’s films is his inclination towards psychiatry

and therapy. This can pose a problem in translation since it is almost a
cultural item as well. The further back we go the more differences we can
find between the Spanish and US societies with regard to their familiarity
with psychiatric terminology and psychiatrists. Freud and his terminology
also make frequent appearances. Here are a couple of illustrative cases,
penis envy (8), and EST (9).
(8) penis envy

–And then she mentioned penis envy . . . Did you know about that?
–Me? I’m-I’m one of the few males who suffers from that, so, so . . .
you know.
(from Annie Hall)

The danger here is that if you’re not familiar with the terminology you
might think that penis envy is actually a ‘male’ thing, and consequently miss
the joke, or reinterpret it, as the case may be.
(9) EST
Original:
–Didn’t we meet at EST?
–No, no, I was never to EST.
(from Annie Hall)
Dub:
–¿Estás en el ajo?
–No, yo no sé de qué va esto
Sub:
–Nos conocimos en el EST
–Nunca fui al EST
The Spanish dubbed version substitutes the terminology for a vague

reference to how knowledgeable the other interlocutor must be. In the
subtitled version a literal translation is proposed, where the English abbre-
viation is kept, presumably leaving most Spanish viewers completely in
the dark. Neither version, then, has attempted a rendering that could be
more meaningful for Spanish audiences, thus helping them to appreciate
the joke, based on the unlikeliness of the setting for meeting people. It
might have been thought that electroconvulsive therapy was too long
for synch, in the case of dubbing or too long for subtitles, but if the dia-
logue is built around an unlikely setting for meeting, maybe some form
of substitution for another unlikely setting could have been explored.
6. Sex
(10) Goosed lady

–I goosed that lady [talking about accidentally bayoneting a
woman]
Dub:
–Ya llevo dos estocadas
Sub:
–Le he metido mano.

Here, the dubbed version substitutes a sexual allusion for a more of

an idiomatic metaphor borrowed from bull-fighting, which actually fits
the picture, whereas the subtitled version makes the potential sexual
meaning even more explicit, but softer in its meaning (I have got my
hand on her).
7. The 1940s
(11) Victory garden

[off-screen] And Mrs. Riley had a Victory Garden . . . in her
flower pots.
(from Radio Days)
Dub: Y la Sra. Riley tenía un gran jardín de la victoria en sus
macetas.
Sub: La señora Riley cultivaba legumbres en sus macetas.
This sentence is meant to be heard as you see the picture. The dubbed
version uses a concept, Victory Garden, and a terminology ‘jardín de la
victoria’, that few people in Spain can be expected to know about, while
the subtitle is a lame attempt at explaining what a Victory Garden is while
effectively changing the nature of the humour in the process, if any humour
can be said to remain. A Victory Garden refers to a government appeal to
US citizens to do their bit in World War II, and grow vegetables in their
gardens, or whatever plot of land they might have to complement ration-
ing. Mrs. Riley has not understood what was expected of her and thought
that what she had to do was place little flags in her flowerpots. As this is
the picture and the voice is off-screen, a possible compensation might be,
‘La señora Riley quería ayudar, pero se equivocó: en vez de legumbres
plantó banderas1’ (Mrs. Riley wanted to help, but planted flags instead of
vegetables).
8. Antihero
(12)
Ted would be shaking in his boots. I’m only just trembling like a leaf.
(from Manhattan Murder Mystery)
Dub: Ted temblaría como un loco. Al menos yo sólo tiemblo como
un descosido.

Sub: Ted temblaría como una magdalena. Yo sólo tiemblo como

una hoja.
The problem is one of metaphorical consistency in both cases loco

(madman) and descosido (intensely), for the dubbed version. In the
subtitle, magdalena, which means a small sponge cake, can’t work as an
image of something that trembles, whereas flan (wobbly cream caramel)
would have worked wonderfully.
(13) Blood rush

All the blood rushed to my brother.
Dub: Toda mi sangre se ha ido de vacaciones.
Sub: Toda mi sangre se ha ido.
Again, Allen is made to look, in Spanish, as if he is trying to be clever

without achieving it. The dub version says, ‘All my blood has gone on
holiday’ and the subtitle, ‘All my blood has left.’
9. Scholars and Intellectuals
One of Allen’s pet themes is to have a go at pedantic college professors,

and examples abound. Allen tends to draw a clear line between intelligence
and intellectualism, on the one hand, and pedantic false intellectuals, on
the other. This is an important source of mistranslation in many Spanish
versions of his work. In Annie Hall, for example, Allen plays Alvy, an
intelligent, very well-read comedian, who is most articulate and verbal.
This can be seen in his large number of cultural allusions and quips
and witticisms. To the degree that these do not appear in the same way in
translation, the character is blurred, and the film becomes more incoher-
ent. A good example of this can be found in the translation of the title of
Deconstructing Harry, Desmontando a Harry, which misses the allusion to
Jacques Derrida’s philosophy of how meaning is constructed. The Spanish
translation sounds exactly like dismantling Harry. The character of Leopold
in Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy is further evidence of Allen’s typical
portrayal of university teachers.
(14) Muse scene

–I think the professor thinks I have some promise.

–He’s very encouraging.

–I know Professor Davis.
–He’s trying to get you into the sack.
–No.
–It’s the reason he teaches. Female pupils.
–No. He’s very deep. He’s not like that.
–Yeah. Very deep is exactly where he wants to put it.
(from Alice)
10. IQ Becomes CI
(15) IQ, from Alice

A person’s IQ is a constant obsession of Allen’s and appears
frequently in his dialogues, even in films set in 1940, as in the direct
reference to ‘double digit IQ’ made in The Curse of the Jade Scorpion.
In Alice, the subtitles render IQ as CI, which would represent the
initials of a literal translation, the trouble being that such an abbre-
viation has no popularity in Spain. The dubbed version uses the
words they represent, which is much more common. Apart from
other considerations, IQ is often tricky to translate because of time
and space restrictions, as it is so short.
11. Men and Women
(16) Gas pipe

Uncle Abe (to his wife): You don’t like it, take the gas pipe. (min 7)
Dub: Si no te gusta ponte a chupar la tubería del gas.
Sub: Si no te gusta, mete la cabeza en el horno.
Aunt Ceil: Oh, Abe, how come you never take me . . . to the
Copacabana or El Morocco?
Uncle Abe: Take the gas pipe. (min 61)
Dub: Chupa la tubería del gas.
Sub: Ahí tienes el horno.
Aunt Ceil: We’re together forever.
Uncle Abe: I may take the gas pipe. (min 63)

Dub: Quizá yo chupe la tubería del gas.

Sub: El que se suicida soy yo.
(from Radio Days)
In example (16) from Radio Days we can see the importance of approach-
ing the translation of some dialogues as groups or sets of repeated utter-
ances or patterns. The dubbed version produces a more explicit rendering
(7.03 start sucking on the gas pipe), whereas the subtitled version changes
the proposed manner of suicide (7.03 stick your head in the oven). The
dubbed version repeats the instruction in minute 61, which seems like
a reasonable strategy, the problem being that the actual solution lacks
naturalness of expression, idiomaticity. The subtitle carries on with its own
strategy of changing the mode of suicide, but makes it slightly more difficult
for the viewers to recognize it in a much more indirect allusion (there’s the
oven) if we consider that there is almost an hour’s footage between the two
utterances. The last time Abe refers to the gas pipe, there is the typical twist
of comic timing where the third of three instances produces a dramatic
shift, and indeed, Abe now considers committing suicide himself rather
than encourage his wife. In this case, neither the dubbed version (I may
suck on the gas pipe), nor the subtitles (I’ll be the one to commit suicide)
are funny at all, and scarcely comprehensible, since they are lacking in the
repetitive pattern that the English version has. More natural in Spanish
might have been to change the gas pipe for jumping off a bridge, and the
third utterance could then have been, ‘Maybe I’ll jump off a bridge.’
12. Wordplay
(17) Bookkeeper
Presenter: And what do you do, Bea?
Aunt Bea: I’m a bookkeeper.
Presenter: Oh. For a minute, I thought you said beekeeper. I’d hate
to get stung.
(from Radio Days)
Dub:
–Y… ¿en qué trabaja usted, Bea?
–Soy, soy . . . contable.
–Por un momento creí que había dicho cantante, me había echado
a temblar.

Sub:
–Y ¿a qué te dedicas, Bea?
–A la cultura.
–Por un momento me ha parecido oír “apicultura”. No quisiera que
me picaran.
Here we have two different solutions. The differences have nothing to

do with the constraints of dubbing and subtitling, and it is quite likelythat
they had no effect on each other. The subtitle manages to provide a literal
rendering of beekeeping and ties it in with ‘culture’ which is problematic
because it is not really a job title, but the interesting point here is that,
after doing the difficult bit, the translator has lost the feeling for the
exchange in the last sentence, which lacks plausibility, and has dubious
syntax.
(18) Letters pun

I thought we should divide his letters. Do you want the vowels or
the consonants?
Dub: Creo que debemos repartirnos las letras de sus cartas.
¿Quieres las vocales o las consonantes?
Sub: Pensé en repartirnos lo que escribió. ¿Quieres las vocales o
las consonantes?
The dubbed version says the letters (alphabet) of his letters (epistles),
and the subtitle renders letters as ‘what he wrote’, which is obviously not
a pun, but is much better than the dubbing. The picture provides an addi-
tional constraint here to more creative alternatives, since we are shown
large capital letters, which are made to support the unexpected meaning
in the original pun.
(19) Gondolier-lira
[Context: DJ’s father, speaking, does not look forward to the
prospect of his daughter marrying a gondolier who is also a poet.]
A poet? Know what rhymes with gondolier? No Lira.
(from Everyone Says I Love You)
Dub: ¿Poeta? ¿Sabes lo que rima con gondolero? Niente dinero.
Sub: ¿Poeta? ¿Sabes qué rima con gondolero? Niente dinero.

In this case the dubbing and subtitling coincide, and may be considered
as a improvement of the original, since the rhyme is better and the Spanish
phrase is borrowed from Italian, quite fitting as they are in Venice.
(20) Carat – Carrot

[Context: Holden puts Skyler’s engagement ring in her dessert for
her to discover when it is brought to the table, but she is so eager to
eat her dessert that she swallows the ring unawares. When Holden
tells her chaos ensues. He’s frantic after spending $8,000 on the ring
and she thinks swallowing the ring is going to kill her. Suddenly the
waiter steps in.]
Skyler: I swallowed what, a carat?

Holden: A carat and a half.
Waiter: You’d like two carrots?
Dub:
Skyler: ¿Me he tragado un quilate?
Holden: Un quilate y medio.
Waiter: ¿Quieren chocolates?
Sub:
Skyler: ¿Me he tragado un quilate?
Holden: Más de un quilate.
Waiter: ¿Quieren chocolate?
The subtitle has the virtue of repeating the word and providing a better
rhyme than the dubbed version.
(21) Brown – Braun

–What college does your son attend?
–Brown.
–Nice colour.
Dub:
–¿En qué universidad estudia su hijo?
–Braun
–Secadores de primera.

Sub:
–¿A qué universidad va su hijo?
–Brown
–Bonito color.
Here we have two interesting strategies illustrated in the dubbed and

subtitled versions of the Brown pun. The dubbed version has opted for a
homophone which is an electric appliances manufacturer, and the sub-
titled version has kept the English word. The dubbed version sounds
like someone who is trying to be clever, unlike the English, which sounds
like the speaker is either extremely ignorant or at a total loss as to how
to continue the conversation. The subtitle is quite unusual as a translation
strategy because it involves assuming that the Spanish audience will know
at least enough English to get the joke. The problem is that if that were the
case many would probably have made the colour association themselves,
but they may not know anything about the University.
13. Cultural Elements
In Deconstructing Harry, Dillinger and Willy Sutton are rendered as Al

Capone and Arsenio Lupin, in the dubbed version, while in the subtitles
they remain untouchable. In the same film, Victoria’s Secret becomes ‘mini
lingerie’ in the dubbed version and French lingerie in the subtitles. Like-
wise, in Manhattan Murder Mystery, John Gotti becomes Al Capone Junior
for the dubbed version, and remains untouched in the subtitle. Similarly
a Buick, in Annie Hall, becomes ‘a car’ in the dubbed version, and is tran-
scribed for the caption. Most people in Spain have never heard of the
brand, so they do not know what they make either. ‘A car’ does not work
very well either, because the point of Buick is that they make big cars,
not just any car. ‘A Cadillac’ might have been an alternative. The dubbed
version also changes, unlike the subtitle, William F. Buckley in Annie Hall
for Jimmy Carter. Here we can see that the change is rather random given
the important differences between the two.
(22) Ballpark
It’s more in the ballpark, in the right neighbourhood. It’s a better
neighbourhood.

Dub: Entra más en el programa, está más en la línea. Una línea un poco
gruesa . . .
Sub: Ya entra más en el programa. Se acerca más a la zona. No es mi
zona pero . . .
Ballpark is a fairly frequent metaphor, both in Woody Allen’s films and in

other American films to refer to a rough resemblance, or something that is
loosely connected in someway. The question is how to relate ballpark with
other expressions that might be present, as in the case of neighbourhood.
By thinking in terms of metaphorical consistency it is logical to think that
neighbourhood is an even looser connection than ballpark. If there is
nothing metaphorically available then a rendering of the sense should be
better than forcing an idiomatic metaphorical value in the target language
on a word that does not have it. ‘That’s more like it, more like what I don’t
know.’ The dub and the subtitle are ‘It’s more in the program, more in
the line. A rather thick line’ (bordering on meaninglessness), and ‘That’s
more in the program. Getting closer to the area; not my area, but . . .’,
a clear case of mixed metaphors.
(23) Beachhead
So? You’ve established a beachhead. Now win the battle.
Dub: ¿Y qué? Ya has establecido una cabeza de playa. Ahora ve a
ganar la batalla.
Sub: Has establecido una cabeza de playa. Vencerás.
On some occasions when the translation is not up to par, one gets the
feeling that the translator did not really understand what textual or rhe-
torical devices came into play in the source text. The dub version lacks
naturalness, though it is just about comprehensible. This is a fairly common
trait of Spanish translations of Woody Allen. Instead of making him look
clever, they make him look as if he’s trying to be clever. The subtitle (You’ve
established a beachhead. You’ll win) is somehow lacking in coherence and
metaphorical consistency.
It could have been: Ya has ganado la batalla. Ahora gana la guerra. Gloss.
You’ve won the battle. Now go win the war.
(24) Melior coffeemaker

–I never got her a Melior coffeemaker for a birthday present.
(from Husbands and Wives)

Dub: Yo nunca le compré esa dichosa cafetera en el día de su

cumpleaños.
Sub: Yo nunca le regalé una cafetera para su cumpleaños.
The brand name is omitted in the subtitle, and substituted in the
dubbed version for a more pragmatic expression of what the speaker
is assumed to have meant (irritation).
(25) Nazis
–Triumph of the Will was a great movie despite the ideas behind it.
(from Husbands and Wives)
Dub: El Triunfo de la Voluntad era una gran película aunque se
desprecien las ideas nazis que contiene.
Sub: Triumph of Will era una gran película a pesar de su ideología.
Here the dubbed version provides a useful little hint, and the subtitler
has gone too far in keeping the original name, since the original name is
not in English but in German (Triumph des Willens), which shows that it is
plausible to hypothesize that a lot of the so-called respect for proper nouns,
and how they should never be touched in translation may sometimes just be
an excuse for laziness, or a cover-up for ignorance.
(26) Halloween
How could you see her? She’s dead. Not only she’s dead, she’s been
cremated. It’s not even Halloween.
Dub: ¿Cómo vas a verla si está muerta? Y no sólo muerta, sino
incinerada y esto no es Transilvania.
Sub: ¿Cómo vas a verla si está muerta? E incinerada.
Now, everyone in Spain is familiar with American-style Halloween.
But you can see from this example exactly how recent this is. Not
even the subtitle kept the word this time. In the dubbed version the
American cultural element has been universalized via Transylvania.
(27) Blue powder

I love a hotel that’s got blue powder sprinkled along the
baseboard.

Dub: Me encantan los hoteles con polvos amarillos en los pasillos.

Sub: Me encantan los hoteles con polvo azul en los zócalos.
We will assume here that in the USA insecticide powder for buildings is
typically blue. The subtitle, as usual, plays the conservative card and simply
leaves blue as it is, oblivious to the fact that blue powder does not mean or
refer to anything in particular in Spanish. In the dubbed version we get a
change of colour due to the fact that the powder that does the same job in
Spain is typically yellow. Of course, the picture could be a constraint here,
if we can see that it is blue. An alternative would be to change sight for smell
and have the character say, ‘I love a hotel that smells of roach killing
powder.’ This kind of discrepancy is living proof that subtitles and transla-
tions for the dubbed version are produced separately in Spain, as a rule.
(28) Spanish fly

He’s probably out buying some Spanish fly.
Dub: Debe haber salido a comprar erectrol.
Sub: Habrá ido a comprar un afrodisíaco.
Here, the subtitle has opted for the explanatory translation strategy,
whereas the dubbed version makes an attempt at being creative and trans-
parent at the same time, by making a up a fake name for a non-existent
aphrodisiac. The interesting note in this case is that the name is not
perceived as being particularly Spanish in any way.
(29) Warren Commission

This could be like the Warren Commission.
Dub: Quizás sea un nuevo Watergate.
Sub: Esto podría ser como la Comisión Warren.
The subtitles go for merely translating the word Commission and retain-
ing Warren, whereas the dubbed version has identified a problem, assum-
ing that the audience will not be able to decode Warren Commission, at
least not at the speed required in watching a film. The solution provided is
to change one word for another that the audience will be more familiar
with. But a translation that hinted at the mystery behind President Kennedy’s

assassination might have worked too. In this case Spaniards are even
familiar with the JFK abbreviation, partly thanks to Oliver Stone’s film.
Allen’s films abound in autobiographical references, jazz music, refer-
ences to Bergman and Fellini, but these do not seem so productive in an
analysis of translation problems.
14. Concluding Remarks
Woody Allen has made a lot of films, all of which have been shown in Spain,
and nearly all of them have been marketed in DVD format with subtitles
and dubbed versions in Spanish. Two of the most frequent problems in
translating Allen are proper nouns and humour, and the two often go
together. The subtitles of the DVDs tend to keep the proper nouns as they
are, regardless of the Spanish audience’s assumed familiarity with the refer-
ence. The proper nouns may refer to people or institutions that are repre-
sentative of New York, Jews, jazz music, psychiatry, other films or film-makers,
politics, Russian literature, Greek mythology, the 1940s and other recurrent
themes. The strategies in translation do not vary very much. They involve
transferring the name, its literal translation, omitting it, or changing it.
Changes of names may involve changing an American name for another
that is American, but is better known in Spain. Sometimes the name is
changed for a word that is not a proper noun but is descriptive of the value
that the name is supposed to represent. Jokes are also dealt with in several
different ways. Some jokes are translated literally, others include extra
material to make the joke more explicit, or, in other cases, to signal that
a joke is being made. Sometimes there are attempts to make jokes funnier
by lowering the register, and making the language more vulgar or explicit.
When this is done it tends to have the effect that the characters cracking
the jokes, especially the ones Woody Allen plays, are perceived differently
in translation. The audiences may find the translation funny, but they
definitely get a distorted view of Allen’s characters and the nature of his
scripts. There seem to be two distinguishable approaches to translating
Woody Allen. One is for the translator to intervene and adapt the film to
a new context and to cater for the widest audience possible. The other
involves frequent transcription of proper nouns and literal translations, in
an attempt to cater for faithful followers of Allen’s films, who are often
perceived as intellectuals, or pseudo intellectuals themselves, spectators
who relish in a profusion of cultural allusions and name-dropping, and
go to the cinema to see how many references they can spot and correctly

interpret. Allen’s early films were translated under the oppressive atmos-
phere of the Franco regime in Spain, which means that sex, religion and
politics were massively distorted. This means that Allen was perceived by
many people in Spain as belonging much more to slapstick comedy than
intellectual humour. This was actually a fairly effective way of censoring
Allen. If he had been simply banned, that would have sent out a warning
signal that his films had a message, but by allowing him officially to be
screened while manipulating his jokes, he was seen, for a long time, as
just another clown, like Jerry Lewis. Or, ironically, like his much admired
Marx Brothers, who pose serious translation problems of their own, and
whose humour, via translation, was perceived as surreal and nonsensical,
funny nonetheless.
The DVDs offer the viewers a dubbed version and a subtitled version
which are often at odds with each other, given that the subtitles are all
fairly recent and the dubbing has never been updated. Both Allen and his
Spanish faithfuls deserve another chance and an updated dubbed version.
However, the dubbed versions from the 1970s and early 80s also deserve to
be kept and watched because they are, for better or for worse, an important
part of the history of audiovisual translation in Spain. In this respect, the
best solution would seem to involve producing DVDs that had two different
dubbed versions, the original one, an updated one with an improved trans-
lation; and also more than one subtitled version, as some scholars have
already called for, in a more general context. In the case of Woody Allen
films, there could be one subtitled version which kept all the cultural
elements and names, untouched, and another, which catered more speci-
fically for the implications and the relevance of such names in the plot
and the portrayal of each character, especially when the names are part
of a joke. Scholars who have called for more than one subtitled version
have sometimes done so on the basis of different reading skills of different
viewers, but in cases like Allen’s one might argue for different versions, in
some of his films more than others, one to cater for Allen fans and faithfuls,
and another for the public at large. It would seem, then, that in this case, as
in so many others, translation awareness is not promoted by dichotomies
and paradoxical dilemmas, but rather by open-mindedness, flexibility and
creativity. The original dubbed version of Take the Money and Run, and Love
and Death, in particular, are quite bizarre, in some places, from a more
orthodox translation perspective. But, from a historical perspective they
are fascinating, and there are some solutions which are so ludicrous they
actually perform their comic duty. In those films where Allen uses the tech-
nique of imitating documentaries, some of the dubbed versions stand out

because the voices they use are so similar to the ones that were used in the
newsreels for cinemas which were compulsory, thus leaving their mark
on several generations of Spaniards. These newsreels are now not easily
available, so in a way, they live on in some dubbed versions of Allen’s films
in Spanish.
Because some of Allen’s themes are so recurrent, on the one hand,
and, on the other, not particularly commonplace or small-talk material in
Spain, we might say that many Spanish cinema-goers have actually become
familiar with New York and its rivalry with the West Coast and Hollywood,
aspects of the Jewish religion, psychoanalysis, jazz composers and maybe
even Bergman, thanks partly (not say mostly) to films written and directed
by Woody Allen, so when we say that such and such a cultural element is
alien to Spanish culture, it may be less so after being introduced by Allen
in one or more of his films. Translating Woody Allen might be likened to
translating a series for television, where there is continuity, only you do
not know exactly for how long.
Notes
1
Thanks to my student Julia Marí for this translation.
References
Nash, W. (1985). The Language of Humour: Style and Technique in Comic Discourse.
English Language Series, 16. London: Longman.

Chapter 10
On the (Mis/Over/Under)Translation
of the Marx Brothers’ Humour
Adrián Fuentes Luque
1. The Marx Brothers: Their Identity and Their Films
The Marx Brothers were initially five, but the two ‘sane’ ones (Zeppo and
Gummo) would soon abandon the uneven fight and would give free way
to the successful crazy triumvirate made up of Chico (born Leonard, in
1891), Harpo (born Adolph, 1893), and Groucho (born Julius, in 1895). It
could be said that the Italianized artistic names are a clear, conscious
attempt to evoke the spirit of the harlequinesque Italian Commedia dell’Arte:
the silent Pedrolino, pale, romantic; Zany, bad-tempered and distrustful;
Harlequin, the canny trickster. However, such parallelism is superfluous in
a ‘Marxian’ context.1
Harpo’s name, in our view, is in itself a pun, with a double meaning based,
on the one hand, on the comedian’s musical abilities (he could play the
‘harp’ – always purposely out of key – better than any of his teachers). On
the other hand, we could think of a curious pun with the expression ‘to
harp on’, referred to the trait of persistent nagging (remember Harpo’s
way of achieving anything he needed). As for Chico, his nickname derives
from his excessive fondness for women (‘chicks’) (Eyles 1994: 16). Gummo
used to wear gumshoes or boots, hence his nickname, and Zeppo’s name
seems to be due to the shape of his head (which resembled a zeppelin),
and his resemblance to a well-known actor named Zippo. As for the
leader, Groucho, his name is a reflection of an eternal bad temper and
a pessimistic attitude (‘grouchy’), and the fact that he used to keep his
money in a leather purse hanging from his neck (‘pouch’ = ‘grouch’, yet
another pun!).
The Marx Brothers produced 13 extremely successful films between
1929 and 1940, which earned them well-deserved fame and a prominent
place in the realms of universal humour. Animal Crackers (1930), Monkey

Business (1931), Duck Soup (1933) and A Night at the Opera (1935) are
perhaps their best films.2 The Marx Brothers managed to give expression
to the material they had already used in their extensive musical and
vaudeville career. They displayed their cynical and anarchic sense of
humour, which immediately struck a chord with a US audience who
had lost both their savings and their confidence because of the Great
Depression. Contrary to the rest of the comedians of their time, the Marxes
displayed a variety of styles, which they embellished with their unique
and personal wit and originality. This was surely enhanced by the comedi-
ans’ character traits: Groucho, witty, quick-thinking, insolent; Chico, with
his fake Italian accent and his wild, overly elaborate wordplay; Harpo and
his diabolic silent pranks; and Zeppo, the serious face that tried to balance
the unbalanceable.
The Marx Brothers did much more than clowning around. Each of their
films shows a very unique way of seeing society. It would seem they are
saying, ‘The world is full of suffocating norms and social conventions,
so let’s break as many as possible.’ And this is exactly what they did. No
norm was left unturned. Logic and order were the enemies to fight, and
the Marx Brothers managed to turn universal and deeply rooted concepts
inside out. They did it under Groucho’s leadership, always irreverent, for
whom a raised eyebrow is a statement.
We are faced with anarchy made comedy. Groucho turns anarchy into
an art of freeing (remember Freedonia, the imaginary country where
Duck Soup takes place) the audience from set rules and social conventions.
What makes a difference between the Marx Brothers’ humour and that of
their contemporary comedians is the fact that Groucho’s characters never
depict a victim of society. Groucho is an anarchist, some sort of Robin
Hood who attacks society with his best weapon – humour.
A general review of the Marx Brothers’ films reveals the extent to which
their productions, and above all their characters, have contributed to the
history of cinema in general and to humour in particular, having left
an indelible mark with their unique philosophy and style. The richness
and quality of their humour have become universal, setting examples
which have been widely imitated. Marxian films have arguably become
classics, influencing many prominent and widely translated comedians,
especially audiovisual ones (Monty Python, Jerry Lewis, Billy Connolly,
Jerry Seinfeld, Woody Allen, etc.), and are brimming with humorous
implications from several points of view (linguistic, social, political,
cinematographic, etc.).

Translation of the Marx Brothers’ Humour 177
2. Description of the Marx Brothers’ Humour: Main Sources
2.1 Main sources of humour

The Marx Brothers, like other comedians, always insisted that they were
just trying to earn a living by making people laugh. They do it attacking
cultural and social clichés, twisting language to unknown limits, forging
extremely witty puns that sometimes get so lost in translation that they end
up producing undesired and opposing effects. Most Marxian films are a
summary of various types of humour, which can be summarized as follows:
(a) black humour,

(b) political satire,
(c) visual humour,
(d) plays on words,
(e) slapstick,
(f) sexual innuendo,
(g) Jewish humour,
(h) scathing criticism of the American society.
Perhaps Duck Soup is the best and the most abundant example in this
sense, as it masterly blends most of these types.
Generally speaking, American humour (just like we talk about ‘British
humour’) would be the primary type of humour, setting the framework
for other subtypes, which can be more specifically circumscribed to the
geo-social context of New York. In our view, the constant cultural, ethnic
and social influx, together with the cosmopolitan character of the Big
Apple, works as a catalyst and fosters a unique kind of humour, heavily
marked from the cultural point of view, very caustic and critical. This
New York humour is in turn constantly nourished by Jewish humour – an
integral part of a particular philosophy, a lifestyle and a way of thinking,
which acts as some sort of defence mechanism against the potential hostility
of the environment, and as a joyful consolation before the circumstances,
no matter how serious:
the Jewish ethos in the America of the Depression years seemed to breed
humour [. . .] Most of the [comedians] were Jewish, out of New York
or East Coast backgrounds. Something in this ‘sub-culture’ seems to
breed humour or the humour response. (Fry and Allen 1996: 252)

In fact, as mentioned earlier, many English-speaking comedians of Jewish

origin from the New York area admit having been strongly influenced
by the Marx Brothers: Jerry Lewis, Jerry Seinfeld, Woody Allen, to name
but a few.
Some renowned artists and authors (Antonin Artaud, Salvador Dalí,3
among others) argued that Marxian humour was simply surrealist and
absurd, and even (wrongly) adopted the comedians as icons of Surrealism,
but this claim was repeatedly denied by the Marx Brothers.
2.2 Linguistic and cultural triggering mechanisms

The humour of the Marx Brothers is, because of its unique features, a real
challenge for a translator, be it for dubbing or subtitling purposes, but
most likely even more in the case of subtitling. Maybe the closest example,
both from the point of view of the type of humour and from the degree of
difficulty that its translation into English poses, would be the well-known
Mexican comedian Cantinflas, whose films, in spite of some attempts,
could never be translated into English, due to the enormous complexity
of the verbal humour present in the audiovisual text, deeply intertwined
with cultural references.
In the case of the Marx Brothers, this complexity can be illustrated with a
good excerpt from Animal Crackers (1930), loaded with puns and cultural
references:
Groucho: I was sitting in front of the cabin, when I bagged six

tigers.
Margaret Dumont: Oh, Captain!
Groucho: Six of the biggest tigers . . .
Margaret Dumont: Captain, did you catch six tigers?
Groucho: I bagged them. I . . . I bagged them to go away, but
they hung around all afternoon. They were the most
persistent tigers I’ve ever seen. The principal animals
inhabiting the African jungle are Moose, Elks, and
Knight of Pythias. Of course you all know what a
moose is, that’s big game. The first day I shot two
bucks. That was the biggest game we had. As I say,
you all know what a moose is? A moose runs around
the floor, eats cheese, and is chased by the cat. The
Elks, on the other hand, live up in the hills, and in
the spring they come down for their annual convention.

It is very interesting to watch them come to the water

hole. And you should see them run when they find
that it’s only a water hole! What they’re looking for
is Elko-hole.
This is a good example of how a string of interwoven linguistic and

cultural elements influences translation. The translation process calls for
an analysis, a creative dissection. Once translation elements are identified,
translators will have to carry out a pragmatic and functional analysis
of them. This is illustrative of how the translator must be able to develop
strategies to produce a specific effect in the TL/TC receiver. The resulting
version might well be completely different from the original, albeit opera-
tional for the intended goal.
The translator’s work will not only include problem identification and
solving, but also a complex and creative writing strategy that has more to
do with the work of dialogue writers, scriptwriters and comedians. At this
point, the translator also contemplates the text through the eyes of the
TL/TC receiver (viewer, new reader), this way shifting between two differ-
ent perspectives. The humour element is carefully weighed, both from a
perspective that is internal to the text and a perspective that is external
and has to do with the desired effect. The translator, then, should detach
himself/herself from the strictly textual aspects in order to achieve a
communicative, functional equivalence.
Various authors stress the importance of multi-semiotic levels in audio-
visual translation (Delabastita 1990: 101–2; Zabalbeascoa 1993; Chaume
1997: 320–6), and in particular, in the case of audiovisual humorous texts
(Díaz 2001: 121; Fuentes Luque 2000: 77–8), where the added dimension
of humour in its different manifestations increases the number of transla-
tion strategies into play. Translators may encounter coherence and/or
cohesion problems related to text-constraining elements (sounds, gestures,
facial expressions, iconic elements, etc.), in which case alternative trans-
lation strategies will be required, either through some sort of coherent
explicitation included in specific speech segments, or through the entire
restructuring of the same.
It is difficult to establish a clear-cut division between different types
of humour in the Marx Brothers’ films, as verbal humour in the form
of puns rapidly entangles with cultural references from New York or of
Jewish origin, or suddenly these puns link with a visual quip. Humour is
also present in the form of a change in verbal register, or accents, to add
an example of ironic or satirical intention, which increases the complexity

of the positive and effective transfer of humour. Thus, Chico Marx always
speaks with a fake and exaggerated Italian accent that has never been
reflected in any of the Marx Brothers dubbed films, at least in Spain,
therefore causing a severe loss of connotation and colour in the transfer
of the message.
The close link between verbal and visual humour is well illustrated in a
sketch found in Horse Feathers (1932), where, in a visual pun, Groucho is
looking for a seal with which to stamp a document, and an animal seal
enters the scene. The result is a verbal homonym played upon with the
visual manifestation of its counterpart. Whitman-Linsen (1992: 149) states
how the Italian dubbed version successfully retained the humour effect by
reversing the verbal > visual pun to a visual > verbal one: ‘instead of having
them search for a seal, the translators dubbed the brothers to be lamenting
their lack of concentration [. . .]. “Dobbiamo focalizzare”, they repeat, stress-
ing the verb for ‘to focus.”’ When the seal enters, the comic effect is granted,
as the Italian (and Spanish) word for ‘seal’ is ‘foca’. The Spanish dubbed
version could well have resorted to a similar transposition, but the transla-
tors decided to keep the ‘search’, not for a seal, but for a ‘testigo’ (witness),
thus significantly reducing the comic effect of the passage, and turning the
presence of the animal seal into an unfunny absurd.
Many researchers (Attardo 1994; Vandaele 2002b, among others) bring
humour triggering mechanisms down to mainly incongruity and superiority.
In this sense, Vandaele (2002b:157) makes a point when he suggests:
broadening the meaning of ‘superiority’ to include in it any (anti)social

effect, intention or cause [italics in the original] that humour may have,
either interpersonal or socially visible, or ‘private’ but with reference to
the social world: superiority feelings in any possible ordinary sense of the
word, self-esteem, feelings of intelligence, a sense of inferiority, stupidity,
aggression, hostility, derision, disparagement, deprecation, in- and out-
group feelings, solidarity, stereotyping and cueing (as safe common
ground or as discriminatory devices), antipathy, pressure and relief/
release, threat and safety, good mood as a safety precondition, etc.
Vandaele’s list is rather exhaustive, and many of those triggering mecha-

nisms certainly apply to the Marx Brothers’ humour and are present in
their films, like in the trial scene in Duck Soup, where Firefly (Groucho)
uses almost every single resource in the list above to interrogate Chicolini
(Chico Marx), who follows suit, starting a superiority war just before the

actual war in the film. The superiority battle of quips gathers momentum
until it reaches a climax of incongruity. Here are some excerpts:
PROSECUTOR: Chicolini, when were you born?

CHICOLINI: I don’t remember. I was just a little baby.
[. . .]
JUDGE: Chicolini, have you anyone here to defend you?
CHICOLINI: That’s-a no use. I even offered to pay as high as eighteen
dollars, but I no coulda get somebody to defend me.
[. . .]
FIREFLY: My friends, this man’s case moves me deeply. Look at
Chicolini! He sits there alone, an abject figure.
CHICOLINI: I abject!
FIREFLY: I say look at Chicolini. He sits there alone, a pitiable
object . . . Let’s see you get out of that one!
[. . .]
FIREFLY: Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and
look like an idiot, but don’t let that fool you. He really
is an idiot. I implore you, send him back to his father
and brothers who are waiting for him with open arms
in the penitentiary. I suggest that we give him ten years
in Leavenworth, or eleven years in Twelveworth.
CHICOLINI: I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll take five and ten in Woolworth.
This is a perfect example of how the linguistic component cannot be

isolated from the cultural one. In fact, humour is constrained by these
two components. In this case, the ST/L/C author and the target one,
the receiver, must share a common knowledge or experience, so that the
translation process is successful. Specific linguistic or cultural features may
potentially render certain segments untranslatable. Chiaro (1992: 77) wisely
defends the indissolubility of language and culture. As we see it, a shared
linguistic code is not enough if there is not a shared sociocultural back-
ground too, which does not extend to the totality of a given shared lin-
guistic context, but varies depending on the geographic area and the
sociocultural contexts of each community. Thus, what is funny or comic for
Spanish people may not have the same effect in a similar linguistic commu-
nity in Latin America, or vice versa. And what Britons find hilarious may
well not be so for Canadians, Australians or Americans. This does not mean
that there are not ‘humour universals’. In our view, there are no such things

as ‘universal jokes’, but rather ‘universal humour structures’ or ‘themes’

(sex, cruelty, ethnicity, nationalities, underdogs, formulaic structures such
as ‘knock-knock’, ‘mummy, mummy’ or ‘last straw’4 jokes, etc.). Humour, as
such, is universal. But humour language or humour frameworks are not.5
In any case, translators should bear in mind that there will probably exist
some lacunae that do not cover all the themes in the spectrum, or some of
them may have a more restricted reception, by virtue of their social and
cultural acceptability.6
3. Censorship and Translation in the Marx Brothers
The Marx Brothers and their productions could not escape censorship in
their time, maybe because of the potential connotations of their surname.
Exerting prior censorship on the scripts of their films was a hard task, since
the Marx Brothers had a reputation for not respecting the original script
and they often improvised as they went along. Most censorship carried out
by the American authorities had to do with sexual content (Louvish 2000:
218). A good example of this can be found in Animal Crackers, when
Captain Spaulding (Groucho) is telling high-society Mrs. Rittenhouse
and the audience about his safari feats in the African jungle: ‘We took
some pictures of the native girls, but they weren’t developed! But we’re
going back in a couple of weeks . . . .’ The pun around the sequence
‘photographs – native girls – developed’ needs no explanation.
Louvish (ibid.) also mentions other censorship cuts on the same film,
this time for political reasons: ‘Sequence G, page 18: any reference to
Mussolini is bound to be resented by the Italian people. We suggest that
you eliminate the name entirely.’
Vandaele (2002a: 267) points out that the ‘different reception of Billy
Wilder’s films by [Spain’s] Francoist and Hollywood censorship confirms
that humour is a matter of interpretation clearly not of text-immanent
features alone’. This statement can be fully applied, and even more so, to
the Marx Brothers’ films. Furthermore, interpreting humour as something
incongruous or subversive is determined by cultural or historical factors.
Nevertheless, the most iconoclastic and ‘subversive’ Marxian film, Duck
Soup, apparently escaped unscathed from Spanish censors. According to
the Spanish Film Censorship Board reports (dated 1939), the censors only
found it necessary to eliminate half of the song ‘To War’, on the grounds
that it was subversive. In addition, the song was never actually dubbed into
Spanish in the final translated version. Interestingly enough, the level of

English proficiency for Spanish people in those days was negligible, so the
danger of fuelling subversion in Spain through an untranslated song for an
English-illiterate audience was minimal.
We believe that there might have been another type of censorship during
Franco’s dictatorship, a more subtle one, consisting in translating the Marx
Brothers as literally as possible, thus slowly turning much of their humour
into a different one, more incongruous and absurd than it ever actually was.
A good example in this sense is the above mentioned ‘photographs – native
girls – developed’ pun in Animal Crackers. This pun, apparently, seemed to
have escaped the attention of censors in Spain, since the translation never
reflected the original pun, and only rendered the photographic meaning
of the verb ‘to develop’. Vandaele’s analysis (2002a: 299) of Billy Wilder’s
films is equally applicable to the Marx Brothers in Spain during Franco’s
regime, in the sense that ‘matters that are censored even when presented
under the cloak of “innocent” incongruous humour may well provide an
index to a society’s deepest and strongest taboos.’ This could partly explain
why most people in Spain define the Marx Brothers’ films and their humour
as ‘nonsensical’, ‘absurd’ and ‘surrealistic’.
In terms of ethics, functionality and loyalty to the ST and its functions,
translators should avoid introducing censorship in their translations,
provided that cultural and social conventions are respected.
4. Mis/Under Translation of the Marx Brothers’ Humour

(‘and Now . . . Something Completely Different!’)
4.1 Variables in audiovisual humour transfer

In a previous study (Fuentes Luque 2000: 42–56) we sketched some of the
main factors that affect or limit the process of translating audiovisual
humour. These limitations affect not only the transfer of audiovisual
humour, but also the transfer of allusions or cultural references closely
intertwined with the audiovisual text. Among others, we could mention
the ‘image’, which constrains and determines the audiovisual text and its
translation, ‘noise’ (both background noise and cultural noise, in terms of
interference and the degree of ‘stereotypical permeability’7), ‘diachrony’
(the effect of context and the space-time variables on the text and its
translation), ‘translation of film titles’ (since they are the first contact the
viewer has with the film) and ‘taboo language’.
In-depth analysis of these and other variables is beyond the scope of this
work. We will briefly deal now with the image constraint, perhaps the most

closely interwoven with much of the humour present in the Marx Brothers’
films. In audiovisual translation (both dubbing and subtitling) there is a
dynamic, moving visual framework, which completely determines the com-
municative transfer from a given language (and a given culture), to another.
Images cannot be changed. In Animal Crackers Mr. Chandler asks the audi-
ence in the scene for ‘three cheers for Captain Spaulding!’, repeating the
call until Harpo Marx appears with three chairs. The visual/verbal pun is
easy in English. However, the translator will probably have to make up a
joke around the visual element (the chairs) and not the verbal one (cheers),
if the functional comic effect is to be retained. A possible translation
solution here could be playing on a derivation of seat, such as ‘banqueta’
(stool) in Spanish, which can easily play with ‘banquete’ (banquet). The
‘three cheers for Captain Spaulding!’ sequence could then be replaced
by something in the line of ‘¡Demos un banquete al Capitán Spaulding!’ (‘Let’s
have a banquet for Captain Spaulding!’).
Another example of image-constrained humour is found in Horse Feathers,
when Chico and Groucho carry out a pun duel that evolves around a pass-
word to get into an illegal bar. The password is ‘swordfish’ and Chico and
Groucho wittily string a series of puns involving all kinds of fish names.
Those verbal puns can, and have been, more or less effectively solved in the
Spanish dubbed and subtitled versions. But then Harpo enters the scene,
producing a sword and a big fish from his bottomless pockets. Here,
again, the visual element becomes the pivotal component of the comic
scene, and the translator will have to transpose the comic load on to it,
carefully avoiding cultural clashes that may arise in the target audience.8
These visual < > verbal puns are frequent in Marxian humour, using
as triggering device the superiority script ‘verbal-into-visual / spoken-into-
silent / congruity-incongruity-resolution’. In Animal Crackers, Chico and
Harpo are getting ready to steal a painting. Chico asks Harpo if he has
all the tools they need, including a torch, a ‘flash’. A long childish verbal/
visual pun initiates, with Harpo pinching his cheek (‘flesh’), then produc-
ing a flask, then a flute, then a flush of cards, until he finally shows a
flashlight.
Positive transfer (and therefore effective reception) of the Marx Brothers
and their humour is seriously affected in the case of subtitling by two
factors: space-time limitations concerning the number of spaces per sub-
title and time each subtitle may appear on the screen, and the speed
of the Marx’s (especially Groucho’s) speech, which is sometimes so fast
that some subtitles in Spanish can only be on screen for less than one

second, thus resulting in a severe loss of not only the potential comic effect,
but also the film’s actual plot. The following excerpt, from Duck Soup, is a
good example:
Firefly (Groucho): (addressing a stout lady) Well, that covers a lot of

ground. (He looks her up and down) Say, you cover a lot of ground yourself.
You’d better beat it. I hear they’re going to tear you down and put up an
office building where you’re standing. You can leave in a taxi. If you can’t
take a taxi you can leave in a huff. If that’s too soon, you can leave in a
minute and a huff. You know you haven’t stopped talking since I came
here? You must have been vaccinated with a phonograph needle.
This burst of Marxian humour is recited by Groucho in about 14 seconds.

The Spanish subtitled version consists of 9 subtitles, which are on screen for
an average of 1.5 seconds. Obviously, and functional resolution of the puns
involved aside, the passage can hardly be followed (and even less under-
stood, or effectively received). This would suggest that for certain subgen-
res, like the Mark Brothers’ films, subtitling may be an inappropriate
translation mode9 in terms of complete, successful conveyance of the comic
message, given the frenzied pace of the dialogue. Empirical testing in this
sense (Fuentes Luque 2000) showed that receivers ended up spending
whole segments of the films just reading the subtitles, without being able to
relate the written code to the image code. Dubbing, on the other hand,
seemed to be less restrictive on the translator’s strategies and therefore
more flexible and open for comic effect delivery purposes.
4.2 Plays on words, plays on ideas, plays ’r us

Humour can be expressed in many different ways. In this sense, a wide
variety of humour classification lists are to be found (Attardo, Chiaro,
Delabastita, Nash, Zabalbeascoa, etc.) according to different criteria. In
one previous work (Fuentes Luque, ibid.), we proposed a simple taxonomy
of humour for translation purposes, distinguishing between plays on
words (humour related to language and its structure) and plays on ideas
(humour related to context).10
For instance, when it comes to translating wordplay, the connotative
effect is often lost and comic effect might be significantly reduced in the
transfer process. According to these considerations, four main translation
options can be identified when translators are faced with plays on words

or plays on ideas. In most of these cases, translation problems can be solved

within the same point of the text:11
1. Literal translation: comic reaction in the ST receiver, perplexity or

puzzlement in the TT receiver, who does not understand what is funny
in the scene. Obviously, this is not always the effect of a literal translation,
as sometimes such translation manages to retain the comic effect.
2. Explanatory translation: the meaning is correctly transferred, but there
is a loss of humour. Comic reaction in the ST receiver, perplexity or
puzzlement, perhaps a shy smile, in the TT receiver.
3. Compensatory translation: this procedure works at a more macrotextual
level, that is, by transposing humour at another point in the text.
4. Effective or functional translation: in the form of complete reformula-
tion of the joke, for example. Comic effect is achieved in both ST and
TT receivers.
The last option is, in our opinion, the ideal one. There could be yet
another superior level (albeit infrequent), where the translator manages to
exceed the ST comic situation. This happens when the translator creates a
jocular situation as a substitute for something she/he was forced to omit.
A good example in this sense are the Spanish dubbed versions of the popu-
lar sitcoms The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, The Simpsons, Family Guy and Futurama,
where the translators introduced verbal and cultural references close to the
TT receivers’ cognitive background, in a successful attempt to prioritize
the text’s objectives, namely, make people laugh, achieve the comic effect.
With this in mind, we believe that ‘exceeding the limits’ was a positive, valid
translation strategy. As Chiaro (1992: 95) suggests, ‘a translation should
not ignore such [translation] dynamism; therefore substitution with an
‘original’ target-language joke is more likely to be successful (and run
smoothly through the text without jarring) than a faithful, but interaction-
ally poor translation.’
It could be wondered, though, whether this procedure would be possible
in the case of subtitling, or whether it would be applicable to other produc-
tions, such as Woody Allen or the Marx Brothers’ films. In our view, it should
not pose too serious a problem in the case of subtitling those sitcoms, or even
in the case of certain elements in Woody Allen’s films. However, we do not
think that this would be appropriate in much older corpora, such as the Marx
Brothers films, where temporal incongruity would be extremely evident.
Plays on ideas are not structured exclusively on the phonetic or the
orthographic level. Humour here rises from combinations of ideas or
concepts that are not specifically based on language. Plays on ideas are not,

in general, universally transferable. J. C. Catford (1965) already suggested

the concept of ‘cultural untranslatability’, although such a stand is nowa-
days less radical (thanks partly to a more globalized knowledge of the
cultural references), since cultural differences are usually more difficult
to overcome than linguistic ones (provided, of course, that they do not
directly depend on a referent of the former). The following is a good
example from Monkey Business:
First Officer: Sorry to have to report there are four stowaways in the
forward hatch.
Captain: Stowaways? How do you know there are four of ’em?
First Officer: Why, they were singing ‘Sweet Adeline’.
The joke here is based on the fact that Sweet Adeline is a song for a quartet,
in the style of barber shop songs in the USA, which poses a translation prob-
lem if the concept of barber shop quartets, or their cultural idiosyncrasy, do
not exist in the target culture. Both the Spanish dubbed and subtitled ver-
sions are as follows:
Oficial: Siento tener que informarle que hay cuatro polizones a bordo.
Capitán: ¿Polizones? ¿Y cómo sabe que son cuatro?
Oficial: Porque estaban cantando “Dulce Adelina”. . .
The above is a very literal translation, with hardly any changes from the
original in English. The back translation would be as follows:
Officer: Sorry to have to report there are four stowaways on board.

Captain: Stowaways? And how do you know there are four of them?
Officer: Because they were singing ‘Sweet Adeline’.
In most of the cases, the receiver, obviously, does not know what the joke
(if detected) is about. The play on ideas based on a source context’s
cultural reference does not coincide (and is rendered unsolved) in the
target culture context.
5. The Marx Brothers’ Humour Received:

Some Comments on Empirical Results
Former research on the reception of audiovisual translated material

(Fuentes Luque 2000, 2003) dealt with the key question of reception,

an issue which reveals its paramount importance when it comes to effec-

tively transferring a humorous audiovisual text into a different language/
culture. Such studies stressed the urgent need for empirical testing as a way
of controlling and ensuring a high, effective translation of the audiovisual
text in general, and of the comic message in particular. In those studies we
carried out an experiment designed to examine the degree of positive
transfer of audiovisual translated humour, presenting a case study of one of
the best known Marx Brothers films, Duck Soup.12
One of the fragments studied included a large number of intricate plays
on words and plays on ideas, based on verbal and visual puns of varied
complexity (‘taxes/Texas’, ‘dollars/Dallas’, ‘elephant/irrelevant’, ‘code/
coat’, ‘object/abject’, ‘get a writ of/get rid of’), some of them articulated
on cultural references related to, for example, names of American institu-
tions and facts (Leavenworth prison, Woolworth stores, Paul Revere).
In one particular question, individuals were asked to mention what puns
they identified, and what they identified with them. More than half of the
English-speaking participants specifically mentioned at least one play on
words. On the other hand, more than a third of the Spanish-speaking
participants admitted not having recognized any.
All native English speakers clearly identified the etymology of the above-
mentioned puns, establishing the comic triggers in different accents and
pronunciations. Thus, Chico Marx’s fake Italian accent and the accent
from New York were specifically mentioned, as well as high-class/posh pro-
nunciation. None of these humour resources is reflected in the Spanish
dubbed version. Participants from the ‘original version test group’ also
reported legal terminology and geographic references as other identifiable
elements, which were not identified either in the ‘dubbed version’ or the
‘subtitled version test group’.
Obviously, Spanish participants in the ‘subtitled version group’ could,
without knowing English,13 in principle, identify certain plays on words in
the background original version by phonetic similarity. However, that does
not mean that they were able to understand the connotations involved, as
is proven by the answer of almost half the participants in the group, who
mentioned the ‘Texas/tasas’ and ‘dólares/Dallas’ puns. Individuals identified
these puns with ‘a rich state’ (Texas), ‘the oil industry’ or ‘conservative
people’. As for the rest of the fragment, over two-thirds of Spanish partici-
pants from both the dubbed and the subtitled versions reported having
recognized plays on words, which they only vaguely identified as ‘two
different types of discourse, a formal [the attorney, Groucho] one, and an
absurd, crazy one [the defendant, Chico]’.

The results about the successful (in terms of comic effect successfully
and effectively transferred) reception of the humorous message were con-
clusive: 70 per cent of English-speaking participants laughed at the various
plays on words and ideas present in the fragment; 20 per cent smiled and
only 10 per cent did not show any reaction. The results for the subtitled
and dubbed versions into Spanish, respectively, also said a lot in terms of
positive, effective reception of the comic message: 90 per cent of Spanish-
speaking participants in the subtitled version, which was an extremely
literal translation, did not show any reaction whatsoever to the various
humorous elements, and only 10 per cent of them laughed. Those who did
so explained that they laughed because they found the passage ‘absurd
and nonsensical’. In the dubbed version, 40 per cent smiled, 30 per cent
laughed (for similar reasons) and the remaining 30 per cent did not show
any reaction. These results, among others, would lead us to conclude the
following:
1. In audiovisual translation, literal translation of puns, plays on ideas,

cultural references and allusions result in comprehension errors or
misconceptions, that is, in humorous or cultural bumps for receivers
(viewers) of the target text. This is the case in most translation processes,
but audiovisual formats are subject to acting and images, not only
dialogues, which makes the gap to be bridged even wider.
2. As expected, the subtitled version was far less effective than the dubbed
one. However, further research would be required in order to assess the
effectiveness of less literal, more functional subtitling.
3. In the dubbed version, results were more positive, although not as
satisfactory as in the original version with an English-speaking audience.
Many elements intervene in this case, such as actors’ voices, dubbing
quality and the visual action (which is the same in both audiences).
The difficulties in rendering the Marx Brothers’ humour are therefore

obvious.
6. Conclusion
For decades since they were first released, several factors have affected
the transfer of the Marx Brothers’ films into Spanish (and possibly, for
similar reasons, into other languages and cultures) and the interpretation
of their humour. Censorship on films was common during Franco’s regime

in Spain, and Marxian productions did not escape it. But perhaps a more
serious ‘polluting’ factor was an acute lack of features of oral discourse and
an unnecessary, uncomfortable extreme literalness expressed in a uniform
register, instead of a more appropriate and appealing array of colloquial
registers typical of authentic contexts. In the case of Spain (and again,
maybe in other cultures), the result has been a fossilized interpretation of
the Marx Brothers and their humour by Spanish receivers that is completely
opposed to that of most English-speakers (Fuentes Luque 2000: 285–6).
While the English speakers defined Marxian humour as ‘witty’, ‘intelligent’,
‘sophisticated’, the Spanish speakers labelled it as ‘absurd’, ‘surrealistic’ or
‘nonsensical’.
The Marx Brothers are a widely known institution, and many people
smile or laugh at the sole mention or sight of them. However, at least in
Spain, many people smile or laugh at them not because they understand
their jokes or their humour, but because of what they represent socially
and historically. The comic effect, in this scenario, is a subconscious answer
to the stimulus, not a reaction to an effective, functional transfer of the
message, nor a reaction to understanding the audiovisual humour text.
The traditional obsession with loyalty often spoils the comic effect, dissi-
pating the original function and intention of the text, especially of audio-
visual humour texts, and paving the way to such fossilization processes.
Rowe (1960: 120) already pointed in the appropriate direction, stating that
‘the intensity of the audience reaction to a comic line is far more important
than any literary fidelity to the original sense. A funny line is intended to
get a laugh. If it fails to do so when translated into the foreign tongue, then
the translation has failed, whatever its literary excellence or fidelity to
the original.’
Notes
1
We use this term in a double sense, to establish a difference between these Marxes and
Karl Marx, and, using a pun, stress the lunatic character of the three brothers.
2
‘In 1990 the American Library of Congress added Duck Soup to the US National Film
Registry, as a cinematic treasure. In 1998, the American Film Institute tallied their choices
of the 100 Greatest American Movies of all times, and Duck Soup was on the official list’
(Bego 2001: 84).
3
Dalí sent Harpo Marx a harp made with barbwire strings. He later did some sketches for
a hypothetical Marx Brothers film entitled Giraffes on Horseback Salad, which was never shot.
As Louvish (2000: 248) puts it, the great painter ‘never understood that American comedy
is about satirizing the outer world, not the inner world of pure fantasy’ [my translation].
4
Contrary to what Attardo (2002: 186) thinks, ‘last straw’ or ‘colmi’ jokes do exist outside
Italy, as in Spain, for example.
5
Chinese pictograms, and their homophones, for example, are extremely difficult to transfer
into Spanish or English.

6
For example, in Germany jokes about the Holocaust are unacceptable, like jokes about
dead people in certain sub-Saharan communities in Africa, or about the Imperial family
in Japan.
7
We coin this term to refer to the degree of receptiveness of viewers towards the progressive
dissolution or assimilation of sociocultural stereotypical markers.
8
For example, a possible solution in Spanish to Harpo’s visual pun could be making a joke
about ‘espetos de sardinas’, a famous Spanish type of sardine skewer. Acculturation, however,
would perhaps be too strong.
9
It is not at all our intention to open a futile debate on dubbing versus subtitling here.
10
It is not our intention to oversimplify, or adopt an over-reductionist classification of humour.
This classification is just a generic division of humour events, for translation process
purposes.
11
The classification that we propose here aims to group the main, most frequent options.
12
The study involved three groups (dubbed, subtitled, and original version) of 30 participants
of different age, sociocultural level and geographic origin. For further details on the
data and methodology used (hypotheses, participants, phases of the study and results),
see Fuentes Luque (2000; 2003).
13
None of the participants in this group was familiar with the English language, which assured
that reception of the translated version was not distorted by the original soundtrack.
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Singapore: Longman.
Rowe, T. L. (1960). ‘The English Dubbing Text’, Babel 6 (3), 116–20.
Vandaele, J. (2002a). ‘Funny fictions: Francoist translation censorship of two Billy
Wilder Films’. In J. Vandaele (ed.), ‘Translating Humour’, The Translator (special
issue) 8 (2).
Vandaele, J. (ed.) (2002b). ‘Translating Humour’, The Translator (special issue) 8, (2).
Whitman-Linsen, C. (1992). Through the Dubbing Glass. Frankfurt am Main: Peter
Lang Verlag.
Zabalbeascoa i Terrán, P. (1993). Developing Translation Studies to Better Account for
Audiovisual Texts and Other New Forms of Text Production (with special attention to
the TV3 version of Yes, Minister), Ph. D. thesis, Universitat de Lleida.

Chapter 11
Language, Comedy and Translation

in the BBC Sitcom ’Allo ’Allo!
Dirk Delabastita
1. Brief Presentation of the Series
’Allo ’Allo! was a British sitcom that ran on BBC 1 from 1982 to 1992. It was
created by David Croft and Jeremy Lloyd, who were also responsible as a
team for Are You Being Served? and many more well-known sitcoms. The
sheer number of episodes – eighty-five, in nine series – testifies to the
enormous popularity of ’Allo ’Allo!. The corpus investigated for this chapter
consists of twelve episodes, taken from the first three series, contained in
the recent BBC compilation The Best of ’Allo ’Allo!.1
The basic story centres on a café owner, René Artois, in the French village
of Nouvion which is occupied by the Germans during World War II. René
has to do the impossible, dealing simultaneously with the local German
occupants, the Gestapo, an Italian officer, the ‘good’ (republican) resist-
ance, the ‘bad’ (communist) resistance, his sexy girl servants, his wife
Edith, his mother-in-law Fanny and two British airmen he has to keep
hidden. The episodes intertwine the following main storylines, which are
recurrent to the point of giving the series a certain formulaic character.
The German occupants have looted the village’s valuable artefacts,
including the first cuckoo clock ever made and, more importantly, a price-
less painting representing The Fallen Madonna (‘with the Big Boobies’) by
Van Clomp. Colonel Von Strohm, the overweight, selfish and inept com-
mandant of the town (usually accompanied by his assistant, captain Hans
Geering, or by lieutenant Gruber) has decided to keep these precious
objects for himself to be financially secure after the war. He gets René to
hide the painting on his behalf in the cellar of his café, but René is keen
to keep it for himself, while the Gestapo too would like to put their hands
on it. The Gestapo are mainly represented by the cold-blooded limping
Herr Otto Flick, who is often seen together with Colonel Von Strohm’s sec-
retary, the blonde Tyrol-style sex-bomb Private Helga, and by his unpleasant

assistant Von Smallhausen. This storyline involves the hiding of the original
painting in a huge sausage as well as the making, hiding, swapping, destroy-
ing and losing of forgeries, which usually results in total confusion.
At the same time the café is being used by the resistance as a safe house
where two British airmen who keep getting shot down (Lt Fairfax and
Lt Corstairs – two good-natured public-school boys) remain in hiding
and from where comically far-fetched and invariably abortive plans are
devised to smuggle them back home. These plans occasionally involve the
use of the radio transmitter (hence the title of the sitcom) hidden under
the bed of René’s mother-in-law Fanny in the café’s attic room. Many of
these ludicrous escape plans are masterminded by the resistance agent
Michelle. René is forced to work with the resistance, who would otherwise
shoot him for serving Germans in his establishment.
René is masquerading as his own identical twin brother, also named René,
after he has faked his own death to escape the wrath of the SS. His ‘widow’
is the tone-deaf Madame Edith, whose efforts to entertain the customers
in the café by her singing usually cause them to leave the ‘cabaret’ or else
to make earplugs out of French cheese. With René ‘dead’, Edith is now
available to willing suitors and René would have been happy to see her
go, if it wasn’t for the café and his savings. To complicate matters further,
René is flirting with his waitresses (Maria, later replaced by Mimi, and the
passionate head waitress Yvette), who also provide kinky sexual services to
the Germans in exchange for supplies otherwise unavailable. René’s secret
trysts with the girls are invariably found out by Edith, but René always
manages to talk himself out of the embarrassing situation by some convo-
luted explanation. René furthermore receives the unwanted amorous atten-
tions of the gay, gentle-natured and artistically talented German lieutenant
Gruber, as well as of the women-only and man-hungry communist resist-
ance. In series 8 Yvette turns out to be pregnant with René’s child.
Other central characters include: Monsieur Alphonse, the patriotic and
well-to-do aged village undertaker, who admires hero René as a true hero
of France but is nonetheless courting his wife Edith after his ‘death’ has
left her a desirable rich widow; Monsieur Leclerc, the old forger, who
eventually marries his first-love sweetheart Fanny (Edith’s mother); Von
Klinkerhoffen, the hard-nosed militaristic German general; the English
Officer Crabtree, who somehow manages to escape detection by his disguise
as a French gendarme and whose customary greeting ‘good morning’ (pro-
nounced ‘good moaning’) rarely corresponds to the actual time of day.
Each episode runs on from the previous one, but episodes can be
understood and enjoyed separately. At the start of each new episode,

Language, Comedy and Translation in ’Allo ’Allo! 195
René is shown addressing the viewer directly as a narrator, briefly

summarizing the plot to date (‘As you remember . . .’) and helping viewers
understand the remarkable situation he finds himself in.
2. Forms of Comedy in ’Allo ’Allo!
The series started as a parody of war-based films and TV dramas, more

particularly of a BBC 1 period drama entitled Secret Army which sketched
a heroic portrait of the resistance movement in Brussels (42 episodes,
1977–1979),2 but ’Allo ’Allo! soon built up its own comic momentum and
has come to be loved by people for whom Secret Army is only a dim memory,
or not even that. In other words, the parodic intent may have provided the
initial idea and impetus for the series in terms of characters, setting, type
of situation, etc., but, except for a small number of well-informed viewers,
’Allo ’Allo! soon stopped referring to Secret Army in a humorously meaningful
manner at all.
What does remain, of course, is the sitcom’s parodic treatment of
World War II in more general terms. We are probably familiar with World
War II via school, the printed media, historical footage and television
documentaries, but our perceptions, knowledge and personal attitudes
have perhaps to an even larger extent been shaped by fictional or fictional-
ized visual representations of the war on television and in film. Such visual
representations of Word War II typically involve spectacular scenes, heroic
action and moments of suspense, tragedy, melodrama and catastrophe.
These ingredients may appear in various possible admixtures, and they
tend to come with a dark undertone and a moral message of some kind
(‘the noble cause still justified the sacrifices we made’, ‘we are a great nation’, ‘war
degrades us all’, ‘human nature remains a mystery’, and so on). Regardless of
specific targets for spoofing such as Secret Army, this general iconographic,
narrative and ideological tradition of representations of Word War II
finds itself entirely subverted in ’Allo ’Allo!. Caricature and jokes replace
realistic spectacle, adventure and suspense, and the sitcom’s extravagant
feast of human weakness and comic absurdity leaves no room for the con-
sideration of the customary extremes of barbaric evil and noble heroism,
or for any deeper motives or messages.
Needless to say, with its horrors and lasting traumas, war is always a fairly
dangerous territory for the comedian to enter.3 The scriptwriters have
therefore taken special care to avoid causing offence. Despite the high
degree of historical local colour and even though in certain episodes

Hitler himself and other historical Nazi leaders are caricatured, the comic
atmosphere prevails entirely and the World War II setting will for most
viewers be present uniquely to provide the context and the pretext for the
characters’ antics. The fast pace of the gags prevents ethical or political
implications of the scenes from being raised; references to particularly
sensitive or painful realities – historically specific deportations or mass
killings, the holocaust, the role of the French collaborative Pétain govern-
ment – are studiously avoided; and, last but not least, not a single nation,
social group or institution that is put on the stage escapes the satire.
Besides parody many other sources of humour are tapped: absurdity,
bawdiness and double entendre, scatological jokes, referential ambiguity
and wordplay, farcical misidentifications and mix-ups, silly disguises and
cross-dressing, dramatic irony, playing with the reader’s expectations (recur-
rent quirks, catchphrases and situations), visual gags and slapstick, and so
on. The list further includes the comic exploitation of physical imperfec-
tions (Flick’s exaggerated limp, Maria’s and Mimi’s shortness, Alphonse’s
heart condition, the deafness and general infirmity of the aged and
bedridden Fanny . . .), as well as of various stereotypes: the lecherous old
man (Alphonse), the gullible cuckolded wife (Edith), the untalented
would-be artiste (Edith too), the effeminate homosexual (Gruber), the
oversexed blonde (Helga), the sinister war criminal (Flick), and so on, not
to forget of course all the national stereotypes (in this connection, see
Davis 2002): the Germans tend to suffer from militarism, superior airs,
excessive efficiency and/or obesity; the French are greedy, they live on
onions, cheese and wine, and have an uncontrollable sex drive; the Italians
are incorrigible womanizers suffering from vanity and cowardice in equal
measure; and the English display a mixture of cheerful pragmatism,
class-consciousness and narrow-minded insularity.
We have no room here to provide a full list of humorous effects or to try
and frame them within the current theories of Humour Studies, let alone
to provide representative examples. Our focus here will be exclusively on a
range of comic techniques having to do with language contact. The extent
to which these have been scripted into the series is signalled by its very
title, namely by the telltale replacement of the initial letter ‘h’ in Hallo by
an apostrophe. The French word allo – spelt as such – was derived from
American English hallo or hello in 1880 (so the Petit Robert, one of the
standard French dictionaries, tells us); this case of aitch-dropping in the
word’s accepted spelling reflects the French phonological system, in which
word-initial aspirates simply do not exist. The French spelling of allo
does not have the apostrophe which appears in the sitcom’s title. Thus,

the linguistic in-between-ness of the title sums up and advertises the series’
unorthodox hybridization of French and English – from whichever shore
of the Channel you look at it.4
3. Accents and Language Varieties: Forms
Four different languages at least are spoken in the ‘real’ world of the
characters (English, French, German, Italian). The problem of textual
representation that this poses has been managed by having all the charac-
ters pronounce English with a corresponding foreign accent. Table 11.1
sums up the various national and linguistic configurations that occur in
Table 11.1 Survey of linguistic configurations in ’Allo ’Allo

Characters Nationality Language Language Notation
supposedly really spoken
spoken
René, Edith, Fanny, French English with ENG (Fr) [= FR]

Yvette, Maria, Mimi, etc. French accent
Michelle of the resistance
FRENCH
Michelle of the resistance English idiomatic ENG (Eng)
English with [= ENG]
Oxford accent
Von Strohm, Gruber, German English with ENG (Germ)
Geering, Von German accent [= GERM]
Klinkerhoffen, Helga, GERMAN French with English with ENG (Germ)
Herr Flick, Von German German accent [= FR (Germ)]
Smallhausen etc. accent
Captain Alberto German with English with ENG (It)
Bertorelli Italian accent Italian accent [= GERM (It)]
ITALIAN
French with English with ENG (It) [= FR
Italian accent Italian accent (It)]
Officer Crabtree French badly nonsensical ENG (broken)
spoken with broken [= FR (broken)]
English English
accent
English idiomatic ENG (Eng)
ENGLISH English with [= ENG]
Oxford accent
Airmen English idiomatic ENG (Eng)
English with [= ENG]
Oxford accent

my corpus; for each a short notation is proposed to facilitate our discussion

afterwards.
For each of the main characters or groups of characters the table
spells out which language or language variety is actually spoken on the
sitcom’s soundtrack (level of textual representation) and which language
or language variety this is apparently meant to stand for in ‘reality’ (level
of the fictional world).
3.1 English with a French Accent: ENG (Fr) [= FR]

ENG (Fr) [= FR] is the language variety consistently spoken by the French
characters in the series. They pronounce English with a more or less
distinct French accent, suggesting that the language ‘really’ spoken is
French. Given the setting of the sitcom, it is what we might call its standard
linguistic mode.
The term ‘accent’, as we are loosely using it here and elsewhere in this
chapter, is actually too restrictive inasmuch as ENG (Fr) [= FR] covers
a much wider range of linguistic interference phenomena than just pro-
nunciation-related ones. To be sure, its most salient features are phonetic5
in nature:
– nasalisation at the end of words of Latin or French origin and ending

in -ian, -ion, –ment, -ance and the like (examples 1, 2); in many cases
this can also be construed in lexical terms as the recourse to a cognate
French word (e.g. Eng./Fr. satisfaction);
– monophthongization of diphthongs (example 8) and diphthongization
of monophthongs (example 3);
– failure to elide ‘r’ where this would have been expected in English
and preferred use of uvular ‘French’ [R] rather than [r] (or [ø])
(example 2, 4);
– tendency to pronounce vowels with raised tongue position: for
example ‘it’ as [it] rather than [It] (example 5);
– tendency to drop word-initial [h] (example 1, 6);
– loss of aspiration after voiceless plosives: ‘can’ [kεn] rather than
[khæn];
– tendency to pronounce ‘w’ with spread lips (no rounding) (example
5);
– tendency to pronounce ‘th’-sounds as sibilants: [z] rather than [ð] and
[s] rather than [θ];
– tendency to shift the primary stress to the end of words (example 1, 2);

– syllable-timed rather than stress-timed stress patterns, whereby syllables

tend to occur at more regular intervals of time, and syllables are often
fully pronounced in positions where English would partly or wholly elide
them (example 6);
– French proper names are pronounced à la française: for example ‘France’
‘Marseillaise’, ‘Bordeaux’, ‘Nouvion’, ‘De Gaulle’ . . .
But then, other typical features of ENG (Fr) [= FR] are to do with
vocabulary, word order or grammar:
– use of French forms of address: ‘Monsieur’, ‘Madame’ (example 2,

passim); preference for French words (known, borrowed or even lexical-
ized in English): ‘café’, ‘cognac’;
– use of French words (not or rarely heard in English): ‘non’, ‘repas’ (see
example 4);
– overuse of the definite article ‘the’ (see example 8);
– unidiomatic word order (see example 7).
Here is a sampling of example phrases from the corpus:
(1) Alphonse: ‘I will have satisfaction’ [εv] [sa,tisfak’sjõ] (Swiftly 26:40)

(2) Alphonse: ‘Monsieur, I believe you are the next of kin and guardian of
this enchanting lady’ [gaR’djã] (Swiftly 16:10)
(3) French communist resistance girl: ‘Retire ten passes’ [‘peIssəz] (Nicked
30:20)
(4) Maria: ‘Would you care for a roll with your repas?’ (Nicked 22:28)
(5) Michelle: ‘Now listen very carefully, I shall say this only once’ [‘lisən]
[se:] [dis] [wεns] (passim)
(6) Leclerc: ‘They have already been milked’ [εv] [‘milkəd] (Poloceman
2:24)
(7) Leclerc: ‘He has gone for the kit of the first aid’ (Duel 21:58)
(8) Michelle: ‘The agent Crabtree has a plan’ [‘εdƷənt] (Swiftly 14:13)
Interesting as the exercise would be from a contrastive linguistics

perspective, it would not necessarily serve our present purpose to compare
the speech of the French characters in our sitcom with real-life instances
of French/English interference. After all, ’Allo ’Allo! no more aims at
achieving linguistic precision in its mimicking of accents than it is meant
to be a historically authentic description of life in occupied Normandy
during World War II.

It might be more relevant to compare the features explained above with

other fictional portrayals – English ones or not, recent and less recent ones,
found in a humorous context or not – of speakers of French in non-French
texts, to examine to what extent, when and how a common norm of ENG
(Fr) as a conventional stage dialect has developed. One cannot help recall-
ing comparable cases such as Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther
films or Hercule Poirot, both of whom actually present the semiotically
different pattern ENG (Fr) [= ENG (Fr)] rather than ENG (Fr) [= FR].6
Although the features listed above are used to characterize the speech
of all French characters, we also need to recognize the high degree of
individual variation that may be observed within the category of ENG (Fr)
[= FR]. Specific features of French/English interference are not always
equally conspicuous; nor are they necessarily present in the same combina-
tions; and the pronunciation of the same word or sound may vary even in
the speech of a single character. In many cases (e.g. that of the protagonist,
René), the process of habituation causes the foreign accent to recede some-
what into the background of the viewer’s perception, whereas in other cases
(e.g. the forceful spitting which usually accompanies Maria’s speech) the
accent is so heightened that it comes close to resembling an articulation
disorder and never stops forcing itself on the viewer’s attention.
3.2 English with a German accent: ENG (Germ) [= GERM] and

ENG (Germ) [= FR (Germ)]
ENG (Germ) is used to identify and portray the German characters in
the series. Some of its features are fairly similar to the ones that serve to
differentiate ENG (Fr) [= FR]. And here too, we have to allow for individual
variations and keep in mind that linguistic orthodoxy is less important
than effect. Like ENG (Fr), ENG (Germ) is characterized by a number of
features operating at different levels of different analysis:
– monophthongization of diphthongs: ‘plain’ [ple:n] for [pleIn];

– use of uvular [R] with trill (‘French’ r) or without trill (‘German’ r);
– tendency to pronounce ‘w’ as a near-[v];
– tendency to pronounce the long ‘i’-sound (as in ‘keen’) with the tongue
in a higher position;
– tendency to pronounce ‘th’-sounds as sibilants: [z] for [ð] and [s] for
[θ];
– tendency to pronounce word-initial [s] as [∫] in words such as ‘spin’,
‘snack’ or ‘stand still’;

– pronunciation of German proper names in the German manner: for

example ‘Hitler’, ‘Himmler’;
– use of German forms of address: for example ‘Herr’;
– use of German words (known, borrowed or even lexicalized in English):
‘the Reich’, ‘Knackwurst’, ‘Schwein’, ‘Strudel’;
– use of German words (not normally heard in English): ‘Dummkopf’;
– unidiomatic word order.
It is worth observing that ENG (Germ) is used indistinguishably for

both in-group communication between German characters – ENG (Germ)
[= GERM] – and for cases where Germans are communicating with the
French locals, presumably in French with a German accent – ENG (Germ)
[= FR (Germ)]. The series tacitly collapses this distinction, crucial as it
would have been in terms of the real-life interactions supposedly depicted.
3.3 English with an Italian accent: ENG (It) [= GERM (It)] and
ENG (It) [= FR (It)]
ENG [It] is spoken from series 4 onwards, when Captain Alberto Bertorelli
enters the show after Mussolini and Hitler had supposedly agreed that an
Italian token presence in occupied France would be useful.7 ENG (It) plays
a relatively marginal role in the series as compared with ENG (Fr) and ENG
(Germ). The shibboleths, which again involve different language levels,
are meant to be evocative of Italian:
– failure to elide ‘r’ and use of strongly rolling [r];

– ‘th’-sounds are pronounced as dental plosives: [d] for [ð] and [t] for [θ];
– systematic insertion of schwa [ə], often at the end of words;
– more ‘musical’ intonation patterns;
– many references to Italian proper names, pronounced in the Italian
manner: for example ‘Mussolini’, ‘Giuseppe’;
– Italianization or pseudo-Italianization of cognate words: for example
‘colonello’, ‘fantastico’, ‘resistanza’;
– frequent instances of unidiomatic word order and faulty grammar.
The following short excerpt (quoted from Plessers 1994–1995: 130) may
suffice to give us the flavour of Bertorelli’s English:
(9) This-a terrible news. You tell-a general Klinkerhoffen from me, if he
do this to my friends, we, the Italian army, we not invade England.

[. . .]
I will help you, colonello. You’ll stay with my uncle Enrico. He
pass-a you on to my cousin Giuseppe. From there, you hide in the
margarine factory which-a belong to my aunty Flora.
The italicised passages clearly illustrate the last feature in our list, namely
the low degree of grammaticality of ENG (It), which contrasts sharply in
this respect with ENG (Fr) and ENG (Germ), where lapses from idiomaticity
are much fewer and far less serious.
In-group communication between Italians in the sitcom is rare; ENG (It)
is used indiscriminately for contacts with the French-speaking locals –
ENG (It) [= FR (It)] – and for conversations with the Germans, during
which, one imagines, German would have been the lingua franca – hence
ENG (It) [= GERM (It)] – but this assumption has to remain conjectural.
Perhaps the Italian and the German occupiers used French as a lingua
franca? Whatever the historical reality of language management in World
War II, the series simply passes over such distinctions in silence.
Here is a brief example of ENG (It) [FR (It)] belonging to my corpus.
We owe it to Leclerc, who enters the café disguised as an Italian organ
grinder:
(10) Leclerc: I am an old Italiano organ-a grinder. [. . .] I have-a de bad-a

news: Maria is de hostage. They will not-a give her back till we return
the motor from the mower. [. . .] The knackwurst that was found on
her knockers is in the wardrobe of the general. [The monkey] has-a
been on-a the organ ten years and it can’t even turn-a the handle.
(Sausage 16:48)
Despite the slightly higher level of grammaticality found here, this is a

fairly exact anticipation of what Bertorelli’s discourse is to sound like in
later episodes.
3.4 English with a British accent: ENG (Eng) [= ENG]

Fully correct English is spoken by the Englishmen in the series (mainly the
airmen and Officer Crabtree), as well as by Michelle of the resistance, who
has somehow managed to master English in addition to her mother tongue
French, which is represented by ENG (Fr). Michelle’s French nationality
and patriotism, the general perception of the French as poor linguists, and

her own modest claims about her proficiency in English (‘I have a little
English, I will explain’, British 17:24) lead the viewer to expect very poor
English from her and to be prepared for a grammatical massacre, but then
she takes everybody by comic surprise when she addresses the two English
airmen in their language with a native speaker’s verbal perfection and
panache, and in an accent that exactly matches theirs! Being the only true
bilingual in the series, Michelle is occasionally called on to perform transla-
tion services between the English and French linguistic communities.
The English of all these characters is wholly grammatical. Its idiomatic
perfection is heightened by the frequent use of slang expressions as well as
by their emphatic Oxford-style manner of speaking. The contrast of this
with the funny foreigner’s accents of the other groups contributes to the
general comic atmosphere.
3.5 Broken English: ENG (broken) [= FR (broken)]

The case of Officer Crabtree is altogether different from anything we have
seen so far. Being an English spy posing as a French policeman, he believes
that the French he learnt at the military academy suffices by way of linguis-
tic camouflage to allow him to blend in with the locals. But as soon as he
opens his mouth, his knowledge of ‘French’ turns out to be quite abomina-
ble, and he very soon ends up being routinely referred to as ‘that English
idiot who thinks he can speak French’.
René often doesn’t understand Crabtree and tends to lose patience
with him. In several cases it is Michelle who has to translate Crabtree’s
mangled French – rendered as ENG (broken) – into understandable,
normal French – rendered as ENG (Fr). One may assume that it is Michelle’s
linguistic skills (as a bilingual) as well as her prior knowledge of the
resistance’s plans (as a secret agent) that enable her to work out ahead
of the others what Crabtree had in mind. Here are a few examples:
(11) Michelle: The agent Crabtree has a plan which he will explain.
Crabtree: You must go and get your hands on girls’ knockers.
Michelle: He means ‘silk knickers’.
Crabtree: Sorry, perhaps my French cod be butter. (Swiftly 14:12)
(12) (the two airmen have entered the café, dressed as gendarmes like Crabtree)
René: You will never get away with that! You cannot pass those
two idiots off as French policemen.
Crabtree: I have give them quick curse in the French longwodge.

Airman 1 (to Yvette): It’s nose to spike your tongue.

Airman 2 (to Yvette): Pleased to mate you, sir. (Duel 13:47)
(13) Crabtree: Good moaning!

René: It is not ‘moaning’, it is evening! Now, what do
you want?
Crabtree: Michelle of the resistance washes to tick to you. She
has had a nusty occident by failing off a drain poop.
René (to Edith): All right, you know the codebook: what is he
talking about?
Crabtree: Carry her this wee, and do not let her drip. She
has strooned her back, and has also a compost
fricture of the left log. (Nicked 9:27)
Crabtree’s ENG (broken) [= FR (broken)] shows the following linguistic

features:
– in terms of articulation, his accent is fairly neutral, with traces of

French pronunciation habits (e.g. French [R]) showing somewhat
erratically; in fact, his speech is more strikingly typified by the slow,
careful and emphatic manner of someone who wants to make sure that
he will be understood in what is for him a foreign tongue;
– even though the odd grammatical error does occur, his sentences are by
and large acceptable from the viewpoint of morphological and syntactic
correctness;
– by far the most conspicuous feature is the systematic substitution of
sounds (vowels especially) causing the speaker’s intended meaning to
go hiding behind a totally bizarre utterance that is either absurd or
bawdy, or both.
In other words, phonetic, lexical and grammatical interference between

French and English as such is fairly limited. Crabtree’s imperfect knowledge
of ‘French’, blatant as it appears to be, merely serves as an alibi for a flood
of verbal jokes that otherwise owe little or nothing to the viewer’s notion of
what French/English linguistic interference might really sound like.
Officer Crabtree sporadically also expresses himself in ‘normal’ English,
for instance when he is conversing privately with Michelle, with the airmen
or with other English characters. But he is primarily known and remem-
bered as the lord and master of ENG (broken) [= FR (broken)], which
he practices unknowingly but relentlessly and with an almost Joycean

ingenuity. That is not to say that he is the only character prone to it.
As example (13) shows, René sometimes expresses his annoyance with
Crabtree by repeating Crabtree’s linguistic blunders. In a number of cases,
Englishmen other than Crabtree have a go at speaking ‘French’, with com-
parable and equally hilarious results, as may be seen in example (12).
4. Accents and Language Varieties: Functions
4.1 The mimetic function

One of the obvious functions of the foreign accents in ’Allo ’Allo! is to help
us form a mental image of the characters both as individuals (inasmuch
as their verbal behaviour shows idiosyncratic features) and as members of
certain social groups (inasmuch as their accent relies on conventionalized
language varieties, revealing their membership of a national group or social
class). Drawing on the viewer’s world knowledge, the foreign accents take
part in the process of characterization and they fulfil a mimetic (historical,
representational) function by adding ingredients such as authenticity and
couleur locale, thus giving substance and credibility to individual characters
and dramatic situations. In a very obvious and straightforward manner, it
makes sense for Edith to speak with a French accent, for Herr Flick with
a German one, for Fairfax with a British one and for Bertorelli with an
Italian one. Like their uniforms or typical dress, of which they might be
said to be the acoustic equivalent, the accents help us identify and construe
the characters in a manner which shows some degree of correspondence
with our knowledge of the world (nationalities, national languages and
stereotypes, the geolinguistic and historical realities of World War II . . .).
The actual degree of this mimetic correspondence in ’Allo ’Allo! should
not be overrated, of course. It makes sense for Edith to speak with a French
accent, but not quite to speak English with a French accent. That the series
gets away with short cuts like these should not surprise us. Even in films,
television programmes, novels, etc. which pretend to offer a truthful and
accurate portrait of the world we tend to find that linguistic difference is
often ignored or neutralized, simply dissolving into monolingual discourse,
quite regardless of the demands of historical reality and geolinguistic
accuracy. This is what Meir Sternberg (1981) calls the homogenizing
convention,8 as opposed to what he calls vehicular matching, that is the
multilingual text’s allotment of different languages to different groups
of characters in accordance with the historical reality depicted. If vehi-
cular matching is fairly rare in texts that conform to the norm of realism,

few viewers will expect to find it in a sitcom where the mimetic function is
secondary to the comic one. In other words, if ‘serious’ and ‘realistic’ drama
can normally count on the viewer’s ‘willing suspension of disbelief’ (to
quote S.T. Coleridge’s famous phrase), the same is true all the more so for
genres where the comic distortion of reality is the order of the day.
The extent to which geolinguistic realism is absent can be measured by
comparing the third and the fourth columns in our table of linguistic con-
figurations above. In the large majority of cases, the ‘language supposedly
spoken’ is different from the ‘language really spoken’ on the soundtrack.
The latter is invariably English, if we make an abstraction of the loanwords
and foreign phrases occasionally used to flavour the foreign accents.9 Real
bilingual wordplay (as defined in Delabastita 2005) remains conspicuously
absent from my corpus. ’Allo ’Allo!, which so craftily creates a multilingual
illusion of a multilingual reality, is, at the end of the day, very much a
monolingual sitcom for a monolingual audience.
4.2 Humorous effects

The token presence of code-mixing and code-switching in ’Allo ’Allo!
serves the mimetic function through what may be called a form of meton-
ymy (the part for the whole). If we make an abstraction of it, the series
could be said to use monolingual means to evoke a multilingual reality.
Let us use the umbrella term ‘problem of language representation’ to sum
up the entire range of representational devices, reductions and contradic-
tions that this process entails. As we shall see, it is not exactly a ‘problem’,
as the authors have managed to turn it around and reclaim it for comic
purposes.
A number of these humorous effects have already been hinted at. First,
the foreign accents and linguistic mannerisms are ‘funny’ in themselves.
Inasmuch as speakers who use such accents situate themselves away from
the centre of normality, a sense of in-group solidarity and superiority is
produced among those – the viewers – who believe they know and embody
the notion of correctness themselves, bringing with it an attitude of dis-
tance and superiority towards those who do not. This mechanism is acti-
vated in ’Allo ’Allo! on a more or less permanent basis. It creates an overall
comic ambiance and may occasionally raise a smile (‘those frogs!’, ‘those
krauts!’, ‘those wops!’, ‘those public-school twits!’). This is not to say that
it will by itself get many laughs, except perhaps in over-the-top cases such
as Maria’s salivous [R]s.

Secondly, the use of ENG (broken) [= FR (broken)] by Officer Crabtree

especially elicits many of the laughs on the laugh track. As we saw in section
3.5 above, it is very different from other varieties of interlanguage in the
series inasmuch as Crabtree’s poor linguistic performance in ‘French’
essentially functions as a pretext for his volleys of English mispronuncia-
tions and sound-based puns. Let us add one more example to the ones
given above:
(14) (Michelle has passed out)

Crabtree: She has pissed out!
Edith: What bravery . . .
Crabtree (taking his hat off in respect): What fartitude . . . (Nicked
11:8)
The reasons why most fans of the sitcom find Crabtree irresistibly
funny are multiple, and they usually involve a combination of resolvable
incongruity and superiority-based mechanisms:
– with his ‘French’ being as appallingly bad as it is (or, for that matter, with
a name like ‘Crabtree’10), how can he possibly avoid being found out
as an English agent?;
– while being quite impossible to overlook at the receiving end of commu-
nication, his puns are produced involuntarily (example 11 shows a rare
case of Crabtree being self-conscious about his poor ‘French’);
– the puns are sound-based rather than meaning-based (e.g. they rarely
hinge on polysemy or play with idioms), which gives them a particularly
unmotivated and flippant character;
– in semantic terms, the jokes are often illogical, sexual and/or scato-
logical (as in example 14);
– their absurd and bawdy content gives rise to a strong contrast with the
supposed seriousness of the dramatic situation, as well as with Crabtree’s
supposed responsibilities as a uniformed guardian of law and order –
both being expressed also by the confident and absolutely straight-faced
manner in which he delivers his jabberwocky;
– while the general pattern of Crabtree’s mispronunciations is constant
and predictable, the actual instances of them alternate between recur-
rent errors which satisfy the viewer’s sense of expectation (e.g. ‘good
moaning’ for ‘good morning’, or ‘piss’ for ‘pass’) and startlingly original
ones which scale Olympian heights of creativity (‘a compost fricture of
the left log’).

A third manner is which the problem of language representation is

harnessed for comic purposes consists in the exploitation of its inherent
contradictions to create a situation of resolvable incongruity. Such contra-
dictions arise inevitably from the fact that the language supposedly
spoken in ‘reality’ (represented language) is in many situations different
from the language actually spoken on the soundtrack (representing
language). Two possible types of contradiction come to mind.
Where geolinguistic realism runs out in the first of the two situations, the
intrinsic incongruity of the situation is discreetly swept under the fictional
rug, in the safe knowledge that the problem will be taken care of by the
viewer’s willing suspension of disbelief. In the second situation, the intrinsic
contradiction is much harder to cover up, but then, it is very easy to take
humorous advantage of. Here is an excerpt from the scene in ‘The British
Are Coming’ we have referred to in Table 11.2:
(14) (Yvette and René are embracing in the back room)

Yvette: René, have you told your wife about us yet?
René: No, no. We must wait until the war is over.
Yvette: But the war might go on for ever.
René: No, no, the British will set us free one day. It may take years,
but they will come.
Table 11.2 Linguistic incongruities in ’Allo ’Allo

Incongruous situation Example Cause Comic use?
Characters understand René, who is a mono- ENG (Germ) is used NO

a language with which lingual speaker of indistinguishably for
they cannot be French, overhears and in-group communication
expected to be understands a conver- between Germans: ENG
familiar sation between German (Germ) [GERM], and for
characters, presumably inter-group communication
conducted in German with the French: ENG
(Xmas 20:49) (Germ) [FR (Germ)]
Characters fail to During the first meeting the represented languages YES
understand what is with the airmen in the first are different and mutually
manifestly their own episode, the ‘English’ and opaque for their respective
language the ‘French’ characters monolingual speakers: ENG
comically fail to under- and FR but the represent-
stand each other, even ing language is identical
though all speak English despite differences of
(British 12:58) accent: ENG (Eng) and
ENG (Fr)

Airman 1: Hello, anyone at home? Hello!

(Yvette and René go to the window and open the curtains)
Yvette: The British, they are here!
René: Well, yes, but it will take more than two before I tell
the wife.
Airman 1: Are you expecting us by any chance?
René: What does he say?
Yvette: I don’t know, I don’t speak English.
René: Neither do I.
Airman 1: We wish to talk to ‘monsieur René’.
René: Ah (pointing to himself), René.
Airman 1: (with much explanatory body-language): We, we British,
come from the sky, shot down, ahh, ahh – British.
Airman 1 and Airman 2: (saluting) (sing): God save our gracious
King . . .
Yvette: I have it! They are the airmen. But they are two days
too soon.
René: You are two days too soon.
Airman 1: What did he say?
Airman 2: I don’t know. Never understood a damn word of the
language.
René: You are two days (gestures ‘two’ with his fingers) too soon
(points at his watch to suggest the notion of time), too soon!
Airman 2: What’s he going on about?
Airman 1: I think he wants your watch before he lets us in.
Airman 2: Surely not!
René: Too soon!
Airman 1: You’d better give it to him. We can’t stand out here for
ever.
Airman 2 (taking off watch): Grasping French twit! They left us
absolutely stranded at Dunkirk, you know. If we have to
give him a watch to get us through the window, God
knows what he’ll want before we get food. (hands it over)
René: Why has he given me his watch?
Yvette: Maybe the British are grateful because we fought the
Germans while they ran away at Dunkirk. You had best
keep it, they might be offended.
René: Thank you!
Airman 2: Look, he’s pocketing the damn thing!
Airman 1: What did I tell you. (they climb in)

[. . .]
Airman 1: What are they talking about? (René and Yvette are talking
about possible hiding places)
Airman 2: I don’t know. Perhaps they’re thinking of some way to
get your watch.
[. . .]
Airman 2: Me hungry! (points to his mouth) Hungry!
Yvette: What is wrong with him?
René: I think he has the toothache.
Yvette: We can’t risk taking him to a dentist.
René (waving): No, no. No dentist.
Airman 2: That’s definite enough – no food! I told you he wanted
the watch. Here you are, you mercenary Frog! (René is
given a second watch)
René: Thank you!
Airman 2: (points with his finger at his mouth and makes a throaty noise
suggesting urgency)
René: No. (looks in drawer and gives him a pair of pliers to extract
the painful tooth with)
Airman 1: What do you make of that?
Airman 2: Perhaps we’re getting sardines. (British 12:58)
The metalingual comments, of which there are several in the dialogue

(‘What does he say?’ – ‘I don’t know, I don’t speak English’), provide some
of the striking comic moments in this scene by throwing into prominence
the humorous incongruity of the communicative situation.11
It goes without saying that incongruity is here accompanied by feelings
of superiority on the part of the viewer. Viewers can understand either side
of the failed exchange and thus appreciate the comic distance between
communicative intentions and effects. Moreover, they are aware of the
linguistic convention – ENG (Fr) equals FRENCH – which makes the break-
down of communication possible and unavoidable. This creates a situation
of dramatic irony, whereby the audience has the pleasurable sensation of
knowing things that the characters are unaware of.
Since verbal language seems to be letting the characters in this scene
down, they turn to body language as a last resort, hoping that the universal
language of gesture will finally help them bridge the communication
gap. But body language appears to be no less Babylonian than ‘French’ or
‘English’. Truly in the manner of (‘gestural’) punning, the increasingly
desperate gesticulations of René (‘you have not arrived at the appointed

time’ is read as ‘he wants my watch’) and then those of the airmen (‘we are
hungry’ becomes ‘they have a toothache’) lend themselves to different
readings and make the comic confusion complete.
The following joke also highlights the problem of language representa-
tion, but in a different and more covert manner. Unlike the previous exam-
ple, it mobilizes ‘one’ language only and not ‘two’ and it introduces a
genuine verbal pun:
(15) M. Alphonse: Have you seen the pepper?

Edith: Yes, the news is terrible, isn’t it!
M. Alphonse: I was referring to the pepper for the soup! (Nicked
23:15)
The wordplay is on ‘paper’ and ‘pepper’: while M. Alphonse merely wants

to spice up his soup and is looking for the pepper mill, Edith erroneously
assumes that he wants to engage her in a conversation about the dreadful
news she had read in the newspaper. This joke would not work at all in
normal English, because the phonetic distance between ‘pepper’ [‘pεpə]
and ‘paper’ [‘peIpə] is too long for confusion between the two to look
normal or plausible, so that the joke would have been strained and there-
fore not funny at all. But then, the tendency of French speakers of English
to monophthongize [eI] into [ε] – which, as we saw in section 3.1 above, is
one of the constituent conventions of ENG (Fr) [= FR] – neutralizes the
difference between the two words and makes ‘pepper’ and ‘paper’ into
homophones. Here the joke works because the viewer can work out not
only the verbal ambiguity as such, but also the convention that makes it
possible, namely the use of ENG (Fr) for French. The resolution of the
passage’s incongruity jolts the viewers out of their interpretative routine
and suddenly requires a heightened awareness of the conventions of
language representation.12
5. Translation Translated: ’Allo ’Allo! Abroad
It stands to reason that multilingual texts and texts which pretend to evoke
a multilingual reality will pose a unique challenge to the translator. The
translator has to find a way somehow of dealing with the multilingual
relations obtained within the source text, knowing that these relations
within the text somehow reflect or reconfigure multilingual situations
and thus social realities in the real world. We have no room here for a full

discussion of this problem.13 Nor can we provide a discussion of the many

issues associated with screen translation, a domain which has recently
attracted some very stimulating research.14 In this section too, our focus will
be on the issue of language representation and how it has been negotiated
in translations of ’Allo ’Allo!.
5.1 Dutch subtitles

Let us first look at the Dutch subtitles in the episodes which I have used
as a corpus.15 Table 11.3 summarizes my findings.
Table 11.3 shows a massive stylistic reduction that takes place in the lingu-
istic transfer from (spoken) English to (written) Dutch. The large majority
of subtitles come in a neutral and correct, accent-free written Dutch.
Table 11.3 ’Allo ’Allo subtitled in Dutch

Characters Notation Soundtrack Subtitles
René, Edith, Fanny, ENG (Fr) [= FR] English with French
Yvette, Maria, Mimi, etc. accent
Michelle of the resistance ENG (Eng) [= ENG] idiomatic English
with Oxford accent
neutral standard
Von Strohm, Gruber, ENG (Germ) English with Dutch
Geering, Von [= GERM] German accent (written)
Klinkerhoffen, Helga, DU (normal)
Herr Flick, Von
Smallhausen
ENG (Germ) [= FR English with
etc.
(Germ)] German accent
Captain Alberto ENG (It) [= GERM English with Italian

Bertorelli (It)] accent Italianized Dutch
(written)
ENG (It) [= FR (It)] English with Italian DU (It)
accent
Officer Crabtree ENG (broken) [= FR nonsensical broken nonsensical
(broken)] English broken Dutch
(written)
DU (broken)
ENG (Eng) [= ENG] idiomatic English neutral standard
with Oxford accent Dutch
(written)
DU (normal)

Two exceptions to this rule stand out. First, ENG (It) is rendered as
what we might describe as DU (It), that is an Italianized form of Dutch:
(10b) Iek ben ’n oude Italiano orgelman. [. . .]

Iek hebbe slechte nieuws:
Maria worde gegijzelde.
Ze komte pas vrij alse wij de motor
van die maaiere terugbrengen. [. . .]
De worste op hare borste hangt
in de klerekaste van de generali. [. . .]
[De aap] ziet al tien jaar oppe die orgel
en kanne nog niet eens draaien. (Sausage 16:48; incorrect Dutch
italicized)16
In addition to the use of [i] for [I] (‘iek’ for ‘ik’, ‘ziet’ for ‘zit’) and the
systematic insertion of schwas, which are phonetic cues, there are lexical
(‘Italiano’, ‘generali’) and grammatical (‘die orgel’ for ‘dat orgel’) anoma-
lies, all of which contribute to the impression of a DU (It) interlanguage.
Nobody in the Low Countries writes Dutch in this manner, but, owing to the
presence of large Italian immigrant communities, it is a language variety
that has a sufficiently familiar ring in spoken discourse to be recognizable
and decodable in this unusual scripted form.
The second exception concerns ENG (broken), which is rendered as
DU (broken), as in the following examples:
(11b) Michelle: Agent Craptree [sic] heeft ‘n plan.

Crabtree: Je moet aan ‘t onderwerk van dames zien te komen.
Michelle: Hij bedoelt: zijden ondergoed.
Crabtree: M’n Frans had boter kunnen zijn. (Swiftly 14:12;
blunders17 italics)
(12b) (the two airmen have entered the café, dressed as gendarmes like
Crabtree)
René: Dit lukt nooit. Die twee idioten gaan echt niet door
voor Franse agenten.
Crabtree: Ik heb ze een snelle casus in de Franse taai gegeven.
Airman 1 (to Yvette): Het is pijn om uw taal te steken.
Airman 2 (to Yvette): Prettig kindjes te maken, sir. (Duel 13:47;
blunders18 italics)

Rather than attempting to provide lexically equivalent translations of

Crabtree’s original howlers, the subtitlers have by and large followed the
linguistic mechanism of the original (as described in sections 3.5 and
4.2 above), allowing it to generate semantically different solutions. While
equivalence is achieved at the level of the speaker’s intended but unspoken
phrases and meanings, divergences occur with respect to the absurd dis-
tortions that result from the ‘mispronunciations’ in English and Dutch
respectively. ‘It’s nice to speak your tongue’ (the intended subtext in
example 12) and ‘Het is fijn om uw taal te spreken’ (the intended subtext
in example 12b) show as much equivalence as could be expected from a
pair of sentences like these, but the mangled versions that come out as a
result of the (mainly) phonetic substitutions show considerable differences:
compare ‘it is nose to spike’ with ‘it is pain to stab’ (back translated). The
fact that the mangled phrases in the original text are semantically out of
context anyway creates leeway for the subtitlers to get away with this kind
of freedom.
The translator’s rules for the rendering of ENG (broken) [FR (broken)]
may thus be reconstructed as follows: (1) translate Crabtree’s intended
meanings as faithfully as possible; (2) operate (morphemic or – preferably –
phonetic) substitutions on the resulting phrases, which give the intended
sentence (3) an absurd and often mildly obscene twist (4) without however
making the subtext totally opaque and (5) do this at intervals which bring
about some kind of synchrony with the jokes in the original, since these are
signalled by canned laughter.
ENG (broken) and ENG (It) show by far the most blatant forms of
linguistic anomaly in the original ’Allo ’Allo!, and their use is restricted to a
few specific characters who speak a limited number of lines. As we have
already indicated, in all other cases the subtitles are in stylistically neutral
standard written Dutch. This is consistent with what we know to be a wide-
spread norm in subtitling whereby the captions have to be short, unobtru-
sive and thus easily legible, keeping a low profile in every possible sense
of the phrase. Needless to say, a systematic attempt to represent all the
accents of ’Allo ’Allo! in writing would have jeopardized the economy of
expression and the quick legibility of the subtitles, especially since Dutch,
like most other languages, does not have a conventional way for represent-
ing non-standard oral features such as foreigners’ accents, dialects, etc. in
writing. Speech and writing are simply not fully symmetrical systems.
Crucial in all this, of course, is that the subtitles do not replace the
originals – the soundtrack – that they are supposed to translate. We are
dealing with a form of addition rather than substitution, with the subtitles
appearing as a kind of footnote assisting the viewers in their understanding

of the spoken dialogues (Delabastita 1989). The original dialogues are

still present, and what can be gathered from the soundtrack and context
does not necessarily require subtitling. This means that much depends
on the linguistic skills of the viewers. How good is their English? To what
extent can they recognize a linguistic error when they hear one? Can they
distinguish accents such as ENG (Eng), ENG (Fr), ENG (Germ) and ENG
(It)? Broadly speaking, in the Low Countries many people have a fairly
good knowledge of English, and many are familiar with the sound patterns
of German, French and Italian, as these languages are spoken in neigh-
bouring countries, or by local immigrant or international communities,
etc. These factors19 seem to create the conditions enabling fairly ‘minimal-
ist’ and predominantly accent-free subtitles to do the job to everyone’s
satisfaction.
5.2 French dubbed dialogues

The ‘minimalist’ or ‘flattening’ approach we have observed in the Dutch
subtitles, whereby the translation makes no effort to reproduce the accents
(except for two specific types of character or situation), would have a differ-
ent and altogether more problematic impact if it were applied in the case
of dubbing. Here the translations do not come as explanatory complements
to the dialogues, but as their substitution. The original dialogues are com-
pletely erased in the process, which puts the onus of verbal comedy entirely
on the dubber’s20 shoulders. Table 11.421 summarizes how the French
dubbers have tried to accomplish their task.
Four ‘foreign’ stage dialects appear to be used, three of them being
conventional ones: owing to previous fictional representations as well as
to exposure to bilingual contacts in real life, FR (Eng), FR (It) and FR
(Germ) would sound familiar and easily identifiable to French ears. The
case of Crabtree is, once more, different in this French version; with his
ubiquitous vowel substitutions and comically incongruous utterances –
which appear to follow the same basic pattern as ENG (broken) and
DU (broken) – his language is in no way relatable to French/English
interference phenomena as we may know them in real life.
The French dubbed version has enabled ’Allo ’Allo! to have ‘come home’
language-wise. After all, the story takes place in France, most of the leading
characters are French, and the non-French characters try to speak French
much of the time. This enables the French version to fulfil the mimetic
function (see section 4.1 above) in a more direct and effective manner by
obviating some of the linguistic detours the original version had to make.
In the original version, the ENG (Eng) [= ENG] variant (spoken by the

Table 11.4 ’Allo ’Allo dubbed in French

Characters Soundtrack Source text Soundtrack Target text
René, Edith, Fanny, Yvette, English with French accent neutral standard French
Maria, Mimi, etc. ENG (Fr) [= FR] FR (Fr) [= FR]
Michelle of the resistance idiomatic English with French with English accent
Oxford accent FR (Eng) [= ENG]
ENG (Eng) [= ENG]
Von Strohm, Gruber, English with German accent French with German accent
Geering, Von Klinkerhoffen, ENG (Germ) [= GERM] FR (Germ) [= GERM]
Helga, Herr Flick, Von
Smallhausen
etc.
English with German accent French with German accent
ENG (Germ) [= FR (Germ)] FR (Germ) [= FR (Germ)]
Captain Alberto Bertorelli English with Italian accent French with Italian accent
ENG (It) [= GERM (It)] FR (It) [= GERM (It)]
English with Italian accent French with Italian accent
ENG (It) [= FR (It)] FR (It) [= FR (It)]
Officer Crabtree nonsensical broken English nonsensical broken French
ENG (broken) [= FR FR (broken) [= FR
(broken)] (broken)]
idiomatic English with French with English accent
Oxford accent FR (Eng) [= ENG]
ENG (Eng) [= ENG]
airmen, Michelle and occasionally by other English characters) presents

the only case of the representing language actually coinciding with the
represented language. The French dubbed version gives us a mirror image
of this, since the corresponding speeches of the same characters are among
the very rare cases where the represented language and representing
language do not coincide: in order to identify them as Englishmen, the
dubbed airmen etc. speak French correctly but with an English accent
(including the occasional use of English words), which we may denote
as FR (Eng) [= ENG]. But in nearly all other cases, the French dubbed
version attains a very high degree of geolinguistic precision: René and
the other French characters speak perfect and natural French, the
Germans use French with a German flavour in their dealings with the
occupied French, Captain Bertorelli tries to charm the French women
in French with a strong Italian accent, and so on, just as they would have
done ‘in reality’.22

Thus, the fact that French is both the translation’s target language and
the predominant language in the fiction has permitted a number of mimetic
short cuts to be effected quite naturally, resulting in a significantly higher
degree of geolinguistic realism. French and English being the central
players in this game of linguistic make-believe, it is not surprising that
the English original and the French version of ’Allo ’Allo! show a mirror
image of each other in a number of crucial ways. At this point in our argu-
ment, it might be interesting to revisit the case of the Dutch subtitles –
Dutch being no player at all in the language illusion game. Indeed, whereas
the French dubbed version cuts out the main semiotic detour we found
in the original dialogues, the Dutch subtitles actually add a linguistic com-
plication. For example, Crabtree’s absurd language in the original sound-
track could be described as broken-English representing broken-French;
in the subtitles this sequence becomes broken-Dutch representing broken-
English representing broken-French, or DU (broken) [= ENG (broken)
[= FR (broken)]]. One might argue that such complications make undue
demands on the Dutch viewers’ imaginative goodwill, but their readiness to
suspend disbelief for the sake of a good story or a good joke is apparently
such that they take all these representational complications in their stride.
Quite another issue is the way in which the French version negotiates
the tension between the mimetic and the comic functions. As we saw in
section 4.2 above, ’Allo ’Allo! adroitly takes advantage of the problem
of language representation – that is of the relative absence of linguistic
mimesis – for comic effect. Inasmuch as greater geolinguistic realism is
achieved by the French dubbed version, does this not eat into the humor-
ous resources of the sitcom? It is obvious, for instance, with Edith and
M. Alphonse now speaking normal French, that the dubbers could not
possibly preserve a joke such as example (15) as such (which does not
exclude the use of compensation strategies, of course). Also, and more
importantly perhaps, the ironic distance which is permanently created by
having the French characters speak (English) with a ‘funny’ accent in the
original is quite undone. The accented delivery of their lines alienates
the French characters from the British viewers, as it does with the German
characters, the Italian ones, and, through their overdone English pro-
nunciation, perhaps even the British ones. The French23 viewer of the
dubbed version, on the other hand, watches a sitcom that has linguistically
reappropriated the story of René Artois and the goings-on in and around
his café: the French characters have lost their linguistic badge of difference,
leaving only the other nationalities to advertise their funny otherness. In
other words, the lines of linguistic and cultural inclusion/exclusion are
redrawn. And then one can wonder: are there compensation strategies at

work, or do the French come off better in the dubbed version, being less
of a victim of an ironic gaze than they were in the original compared with
the other nationalities? In simpler words, do the French look (or sound)
less odd and silly in the dubbed version than they did in the English origi-
nals? Are some of the sitcom’s satirical energies directed away from the
French? Being the target audience of the translation, are the French now
less of a target for ridicule? If so, could we ascribe this to a nationalistically
based reflex?
6. To Conclude . . .
The limited scope of my investigation does not permit answers to all the
problems that have been raised, but hopefully at least a basic framework
for their discussion has been established. ’Allo ’Allo definitely provides a
wealth of material permitting us to deepen and extend our research. The
series has run both in traditionally English-speaking countries and in
countries where forms of translational intervention would be required:
Belgium (both French-speaking and Dutch-speaking channels), Bosnia
and Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Croatia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland,
Hungary, India, Latvia, Malta, Namibia, The Netherlands, New Zealand,
Norway, Poland, Portugal, Singapore, Slovenia, South Africa, Spain, Swe-
den and probably several more.24 To the televised episodes one might
add the various derived products and outlets other than traditional broad-
casting – such as theatre shows, book publications, internet sites, VHS and
DVD releases – which have all become part of the rich afterlife of ’Allo ’Allo!.
For each of these, it is worth looking into how the issue of language
differentiation and representation has been handled and how this reflects
sociolinguistic realities and political sensitivities – but, to be sure, this
does not exhaust the range of interesting questions raised by the foreign
travels of ’Allo ’Allo!.
Notes
1
These twelve episodes are:
– DVD 1: The British Are Coming (series 1/episode 1), The Poloceman Cometh (2/3),
Swiftly and with Style (2/4), The Duel (2/5),
– DVD 2: Herr Flick’s Revenge (2/6), Xmas Special – The Gateau from the Chateau (X1),
The Nicked Knockwurst (3/1), Gruber Carpeted (3/2),
– DVD 3: The Sausage in the Wardrobe (3/3), Flight of Fancy (3/4), Pretty Maids All in a
Row (3/5), The Great Un-Escape (3/6).

References will be as follows: abbreviated title, time elapsed. Example: Duel 13:00
signifies thirteen minutes into the episode ‘The Duel’. For a full episode guide, consult:
www.coldcut.com/video/aa.
2
Upstairs, Downstairs (set in a stately London house in the early twentieth century) is another
example of a high-profile serious British costume drama series, full of noble sentiments,
which gave rise to a take-off, namely the sitcom You Rang M’Lord?, which happens to have
been co-authored and co-directed by David Croft – one of the two writers of ’Allo ’Allo!.
3
In some contexts viewers’ sensitivities may simply thwart comic intent. In Germany, for
instance, ’Allo ’Allo! has understandably never been broadcast. Two German citizens have
recently put it like this in a forum exchange:
“Wir sind einfach zu humorlos um den tollen running gags der Briten zu folgen. Ich halte
die Serie auch für schlichtweg unmöglich zu synchronisieren. Es gibt zu viele Wortspiele,
die nicht übersetzbar sind. Außerdem waren wir noch nie gut darin über uns selbst zu
lachen”. [Keef (born 1966) 11 August 2005]
(We Germans are simply too humourless to follow the crazy running gags of the British.
I also hold the series to be simply impossible to dub. There are too many wordplays, which
are impossible to translate. Moreover, we were at that time not very good yet at laughing at
ourselves.)
“Ich sah die Serie, sogar zweimal, als ich im Ausland lebte, ich kann sie nur jedem empfe-
hlen, wer auf witzige Szenen und eine gelungene Mischung französisch angehauten
britischen Humor steht. Tja, wir Deutschen haben es wohl nicht so mit der Geschichte, gell?
und da wir dort aber richtig auf die Schippe genommen werden nehme ich an, daß es der
Grund war warum Allo, Allo niemals hier lief ”. [Árpád (born 1981) 3 July 2005]
(I saw the series, twice even, when I was living abroad, and I can only recommend it to all
who like witty scenes and a successful mix of French and British humour. Well, we Germans,
we have this thing with history, don’t we? and since that’s where the series really pulls our
legs, I assume that that is the reason why Allo, Allo has never made it to the screen here).
Source: http://www.tv-kult.de/index.php?tvdbid= 2145&m= SA&title= ‘Allo%2C+’Allo.
4
It may be worth noting that the title of our sitcom – unintentionally no doubt – recalls
the (double) title of an early experiment in polyglot cinema: Allo Berlin? Ici Paris! or Hallo
Paris? Hier spricht Berlin! are the two parallel titles of a film directed by Julian Duvivier
in 1931–1932 which ‘incorporates both French and German dialogue and was released
in both markets without the aid of subtitles [. . .] The plot concerns a love story between
telephonists in Berlin and Paris, who must both struggle to be understood in each other’s
tongue’ (Dwyer 2005: 305). Note the presence/absence of aitches in hallo and allo
respectively.
5
We are concerned with matters of articulatory phonetics here. The manner in which
foreign accents reflect differences between the respective phonological systems of the
languages involved need not detain us in the present context.
6
For the spectacular historical case of Shakespeare’s polyglot Henry V, see Delabastita (2002)
and Déprats (2004).
7
None of these later episodes belong to my corpus. However, I have a clear memory of
seeing them on television, and have been able to consult the transcript of episode 5.12,
‘A Parade of Prams’, which features the Italian Captain Bertorelli (Plessers 1994–1995).
8
For a discussion of this norm and of how so-called polyglot films are challenging its
dominance in the film industry, see Dwyer (2005).
9
There are a few other small exceptions. For example, in Xmas 34:07 the Frenchmen in the
café are showing their patriotic fervour by singing the ‘Marseillaise’ (in English!), until
the Germans enter unexpectedly and all promptly break into ‘Deutschland über alles’
in German. Or, in Nicked 28:35, the French are marching disguised as German soldiers
and Leclerc is shouting military orders in (incomprehensible) pseudo-German.
10
Even his underpants – with a Union-Jack design – couldn’t be more British.
11
Many more examples of this may be found. Just one more:
(the airmen in Fanny’s room, trying to operate the radio; a message has just come through)
Airman 1: What’s he saying?

Airman 2: I have no idea, it’s all in French. (Gruber 8:57)

The message they are referring to was in English, of course, namely ENG (Fr) [FR].
12
The mechanism is not unlike that of the jokes produced by Crabtree in his ENG (broken)
[FR (broken)]. But there are also significant differences: whereas Alphonse and Edith are
competent speakers of what is supposed to be their mother tongue and the ‘pepper’/‘paper’
joke is a dialogical slip of interpretation, Crabtree is constantly blundering in a poorly
mastered foreign language and his innumerable errors are contained within his own
monological language production.
13
See Delabastita and Grutman (2005) for a first introduction and bibliographical references.
14
For an excellent survey of the state of the art, see Gambier (2003). Interesting recent
contributions dealing more specifically with humour translation for the screen include
Antonini (2005), Asimakoulas (2004), Fuentes Luque (2003), Pelsmaekers and Van Besien
(2002), Valdeón (2005) and Zabalbeascoa (1996).
15
The name of the translator(s) or the origin of the translations is unfortunately not
specified. Nor have I been able to verify if these subtitled versions were the ones broadcast
on Flemish and/or on Dutch television.
16
In normal Dutch this would read as follows: (ex. 10bb) Ik ben ’n oude Italiaanse orgelman.
[. . .] / Ik heb slecht nieuws: / Maria wordt gegijzeld. / Ze komt pas vrij als wij de motor /
van die maaier terugbrengen. [. . .] / De worst op haar borsten hangt / in de kleerkast van
de generaal. [. . .] / [De aap] zit al tien jaar op dat orgel / en kan nog niet eens draaien
(Sausage 16:48).
17
Onderwerk (coinage evoking something like ‘bottom’ or ‘foundation’) for ondergoed (‘under-
wear’) actually derives from a morphological rather than a phonetic substitution. In the
last line, boter (‘butter’) for beter (‘better’) mirrors the original joke, but the could/cod joke
has not been captured.
18
Casus (Latinate Dutch for cursus, that is ‘course’) means ‘case, instance’; taai (for taal, that
is ‘language’) means ‘tough’; pijn (for fijn, that is ‘nice’) means ‘pain, ache’; steken (for
spreken, that is ‘to speak’) means ‘to stab, to stick’; kindjes maken (for kennis maken, that is ‘to
make someone’s acquaintance’) means ‘to make babies’.
19
I imagine that empirical tests could be envisaged to gauge the exact impact of these and other
parameters on the audience’s understanding and appreciation of the humour in ’Allo ’Allo!.
20
As with ‘subtitler’ above, the term ‘dubber’ is used as a convenient shorthand term for
the entire group of people involved in the production of the screen translation.
21
The table is not based on personal observation but on the aforementioned MA thesis
(mémoire de licence) by Valerie Plessers (supervised by Professor José Lambert, K.U. Leuven)
which was devoted to the French version broadcast on RTL during the 1992–1993 season
of the episode ‘A Parade of Prams’ (Plessers 1994–1995: 25).
22
Other than FR (Eng) [= ENG], the cases of FR (Germ) [= GERM] constitute the main
exception to the norm of geolinguistic accuracy: in the dubbed series the Germans speak
FR (Germ) indiscriminately for their in-group conversations (‘in German’) and their
communication (‘in French’) with the non-German locals. As in the English original,
this distinction is collapsed. In addition, as we have pointed out, Crabtree’s very poor
French is hardly a realistic representation of an Englishman struggling with the language
of Voltaire – but at least his broken French is broken French here, and not broken-
English-pretending-to-be-broken-French.
23
It is worth remembering that not all inhabitants of France have French as their first
language, and that French is the native tongue of many millions of people – potential
viewers of ’Allo ’Allo! – outside of France.
24
Information gathered from www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/guide and www.coldcut.com/stations/.
As we have suggested before, it might be just as relevant to consider which countries have
not imported the series and why (e.g. particular sensitivities to the War theme).
References
Antonini, R. (2005). ‘The perception of subtitled humour in Italy’, Humour.
International Journal of Humour Research, 18 (2), 209–25.

Asimakoulas, D. (2004). ‘Towards a model of describing humour translation.

A case study of the Greek subtitled versions of Airplane! and Naked Gun’, Meta 44
(4), 822–42.
Davies, C. (2002). The Mirth of Nations. New Brunswick (USA.)/London (UK):
Transaction Publishers.
Delabastita, D. (1989). ‘Translation and mass-communication: Film and T.V.
translation as evidence of cultural dynamics’, Babel, 35 (4), 193–218.
—(2002). ‘A great feast of languages: Shakespeare’s multilingual comedy in “King
Henry V” and the Translator’. In Vandaele (ed.) 2002, 303–40.
—(2005). ‘Cross-language comedy in Shakespeare’, Humor. International Journal
of Humour Research, 18 (2), 161–84.
Delabastita, D. and R. Grutman (eds) (2005). Fictionalising Translation and Multi-
lingualism. Special issue of Linguistica Antverpiensia. New Series 4.
Déprats, J. M. (2004). ‘A French history of Henry V’. In Ton Hoenselaars (ed.),
Shakespeare’s History Plays. Performance, Translation and Adaptation in Britain and
Abroad (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 75–91.
Dwyer, T. (2005). ‘Universally speaking: Lost in Translation and Polyglot Cinema’.
In Delabastita and Grutman (eds) 2005, 295–310.
Fuentes Luque, A. (2003). ‘An empirical approach to the reception of AV
translated humour. A case study of the Marx Brothers’ “Duck Soup”. The Trans-
lator, 9 (2), 293–305.
Gambier, Y. (ed.) (2003). Screen Translation. Special issue of The Translator, 9 (2).
Pelsmaekers, K. and F. Van Besien (2002). ‘Subtitling irony. Blackadder in Dutch’,
Plessers, V. (1994–1995). ‘Stéréotypie et traduction: Allo Allo en version doublée’.
Unpublished MA thesis KU Leuven.
Sternberg, M. (1981). ‘Polylingualism as reality and translation as mimesis’, Poetics
Today, 2 (4), 221–39.
The Best of ’Allo ’Allo!. The 12 beste afleveringen van de klassieke BBC serie. BBC.
3 disk set.
Valdeón, R. A. (2005). ‘Asymmetric representations of languages in contact: Uses
and translations of French and Spanish in Frasier’. In Delabastita and Grutman
(eds), 2005, 295–310.
Vandaele, J. (ed.) (2002). Translating Humour. Special issue of The Translator, 9 (2).
www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/guide.
www.coldcut.com/music/.
www.coldcut.com/stations/.
www.coldcut.com/video/aa/links.html.
www.phill.co.uk/comedy/allo/list.html.
www.tv-kult.de/index.php?tvdbid= 2145&m= SA&title= ‘Allo%2C+’Allo.
Zabalbeascoa, P. (1996). ‘Translating jokes for dubbed television situation comedies’.

Chapter 12
Laughing to Death: Dubbed and

Subtitled Humour in Six Feet Under
Chiara Bucaria
1. Introduction
Whoever has watched at least one episode of the American TV series Six
Feet Under (SFU), dealing with a family of undertakers, cannot have failed to
appreciate the unconventionality of this product. Whether you love it or
hate it, whether you understand it or not, SFU displays a number of striking
elements that are rarely seen on TV, especially in a country like Italy, where
death is still not only considered a taboo but the very mention of death
might still trigger superstitious reactions.1 The viewer might be struck by
the juxtaposition of dramatic and comic events, disgusted at the sight of
disfigured and mutilated bodies, offended by the scenes of explicit sex and
homosexuality that punctuate some of the episodes, or even just befuddled
by the visionary, dream-like, surreal nature of some scenes. Whether viewers
like it or not is, of course, a matter related to aspects such as personal and
cultural taste, and is therefore a subjective question (e.g. Ruch 1998). What
should be important, however, is that when watching the translated version
of this, just like any other audiovisual product, viewers are presented with a
target text that is as close as possible, in both content and intent, to the
source text. Unfortunately, this is not always the case with the Italian version
of SFU. Furthermore, in the case of Italy, adherence to the source text is
complicated by the existence of two translated versions, dubbed and sub-
titled, which are significantly different in terms of their rendering of the
general tone of the series and of specific humorous elements within single
scenes. In particular, it can be noted how in some cases, the choice of
translating a humorous comment in a certain way or not translating it at
all may well result in a diminished humorous effect.
Given these considerations, this chapter presents a comparison between
the dubbed and the subtitled versions, in an attempt to highlight some of

Dubbed and Subtitled Humour in Six Feet Under 223
the discrepancies between the two. Far from intending to apply a mere
‘spot the error’ approach, the aim is here to simply focus on how two
inherently different modes of audiovisual translation tackle potentially
problematic issues, and, possibly, on the reasons that underlie different
translational choices. These observations will be illustrated by means of
examples from the pilot episode of SFU (‘Pilot’/‘Fisher e Figli’), and atten-
tion will be also drawn to further research issues, such as the possible
impact of given translational choices on the perception of humorous
elements on the part of viewers.
1.1 Audiovisual translation, humour and black humour

Although audiovisual translation (AVT) has started to attract the attention
of the academia only relatively recently, numerous studies have been pub-
lished on the difficulties of transposing not only the source language but
also the source culture into a target lingua-cultural system. Particularly
significant are some of the studies contained in a few collections of papers
(e.g. Baccolini et al. 1994; Heiss and Bosinelli 1996; Gambier 1998; Bollettieri
Bosinelli et al. 2000; Gambier and Gottlieb 2001; Gambier 2003), which
explore, among other aspects, the rendering of cultural references, word-
play, geographic varieties and accents in several combinations of languages.
In particular, among the studies focusing on the transposing of verbally
expressed humour in ATV it is worth mentioning Chiaro (2004, 2006).
More recently, another trend has emerged in AVT, which was brought
about by the need to investigate not only the translation process that takes
place in transposing an audiovisual text from one language into another,
but also the end-product of this process. In this view, translation is consid-
ered as a service offered to specific end-users, that is the viewers that are
exposed to endless hours of dubbed and subtitled products on a daily
basis. Therefore, by bringing the viewers into the picture, the need has
arisen for scientific studies investigating how audiences perceive the final
products of AVT and whether they enjoy them or dislike them, in an attempt
not to criticize the work of dubbing and subtitling professionals but to try
and point out what could be improved. Although the need for studies on
the perception of translated audiovisual texts has become self-evident in
a market in which viewers are exposed to an ever increasing number of
hours of dubbed programmes, research in the field remains scarce (Fuentes
Luque 2001; Antonini et al. 2003; Antonini and Chiaro 2004; Chiaro 2004).
Although most of these studies do take the perception of humour into

account, much still remains to be explored, especially in terms of the

perception of specific subgenres of humour.
At this point it will be worth clarifying what we mean exactly by black
humour. The phrase ‘black humour’ or ‘humour noir’ was first used by
French surrealist André Breton in his Anthologie de l’humour noir (1940),
although no specific definition of the term was actually offered in this
collection. The term ‘black humour’ became popular again in the 1950s
and 1960s, when writers such as Ken Kesey, Kurt Vonnegut, Joseph Heller
and Thomas Pynchon, were grouped under the label ‘black humorists’
because of their defying of social rules and order, and their partiality
towards portraying the tragicomedy of human existence through a surreal
lens (Friedman 1965). A number of studies have since been published on
black humour in literature (e.g. Barnes 1978, Schulz 1978, Pratt 1993),
although not much attention has been devoted to the phenomenon in
other genres, such as cinema (Gehring 1996), TV or pop culture. One of
the main problems seems to be the lack of a precise, univocal definition,
and, as a consequence, the fact that many subgenres and labels are used as
synonyms for black humour (e.g. gallows humour, sick humour, hospital
humour, dark humour). Although providing a definition of black humour
is outside the scope of the present study, it is worth noting that here
the term will be used exclusively to refer to humour connected to death
and illness.
As far as Italy is concerned, studies on black humour are even sparser.
Aside from Brugnolo’s (1994) review of black humour themes in European
literature, the subject has not been given much attention. As a matter of
fact, if compared with other cultures, black humour does not seem to be
a very widespread genre in Italy. It is probably not a coincidence that
the only black comedies shown on Italian screens are either British or
American, or that Roald Dahl and his books, both for children and adults,
are still relatively unknown in this country. One has the impression that in
Italy there is a different sensitivity, one in which laughing about death or
death-related matters and circumstances is not particularly appreciated.
The hypothesis is that these topics might be perceived as blasphemous
and ‘sick’, and therefore carefully avoided.
Given what has just been observed, can such a peculiar and connoted
TV series such as SFU be successful, or even remotely appreciated, in a
country where this genre is almost non-existent? And what happens if the
linguistic rendering of humour in the Italian version of the series is, for
whatever reason, not always as successful as the source text?

1.2 The series Six Feet Under

Nathaniel, Ruth, Nate, David and Claire Fisher are a family who run a
funeral home in Los Angeles. When Nathaniel, the head of the family, dies
crashing his brand new hearse into a bus on Christmas Eve, the other
members of the family are left with the difficult task of running the family
business, and at the same time, of coming to terms with their sudden
personal loss and with death in general as such a prominent part of their
lives. This is, in short, the premise around which Alan Ball created this five
season, 63-episode series for American cable network HBO, which first
aired in the USA in June 2001 and obtained critical success.
The series, which offers a delicate and quite unusual balance between
drama and comedy, could, however, hardly be labelled as a comedy series.
As a matter of fact, death is not the only controversial subject approached
in the series. For example, David (Michael C. Hall) is a closet homosexual,
who at the beginning of the series has a relationship with Keith (Mathew
St. Patrick), an African-American police officer. Claire (Lauren Ambrose),
the Fishers’ teenage daughter, is experimenting with drugs and has quite
a rebellious personality. Nate’s love interest, Brenda (Rachel Griffiths), has
a morbid relationship with her psychotic brother, and later in the series
develops an addiction for dangerously promiscuous sexual behaviour. All
of this is the background for middle-aged Ruth’s (Frances Conroy) frustra-
tions and almost maniacal obsession with being a good mother, and of
Nate’s (Peter Krause) discovery of his potentially deadly brain deformation.
Federico (Freddy Rodriguez), the Fishers’ assistant mortician, acts in many
cases as the comic relief, with his nonchalant attitude towards his work
and the funeral business in general. To complicate matters, the Fishers
keep seeing Nathaniel (Richard Jenkins) as if he were still alive, imagining
his comments, reactions, etc. As anyone can see, the potential is there
for shocked reactions on the part of many viewers in the USA alone, and
for a number of different reasons, including some close-up shots of
disfigured bodies.
SFU was first broadcast in Italy in its dubbed version (EDIT) in March
2004 on the terrestrial channel ITALIA 1, where the first two seasons
were shown late at night, two episodes at a time, once a week. Soon after
(April 2004), the series was also shown on the Italian satellite channel FOX,
where the viewers were offered the option to watch it in the dubbed or the
original version. The subtitled version (SDI Media Group), on the other
hand, was made available to Italian viewers only slightly later when the DVD

of the series was released. As might have been expected, the reception of
the show in Italy was mixed. Needless to say, the fans were disappointed to
see the show relegated to such a late night slot and, on the other hand,
some viewers2 apparently expressed their concern about the appropriateness
of broadcasting such a controversial show at all, even if late at night.
2. The Analysis
The pilot episode of SFU, which was broadcast in the USA on 3 June
2001, was chosen because it provides a good introduction to the general
themes of the series and to the tensions between the characters that are to
be developed as the series progresses. On a linguistic and cultural level, it
also provides good examples of that peculiar kind of humour, suspended
between drama and comedy, that the study aims at investigating, and of
discrepancies in the translation of humour between the Italian dubbed and
subtitled versions.
When comparing the dubbed and the subtitled versions, both available on
the DVD of the first season, one cannot help but noticing a few differences
in the translation of the same English audiovisual text. Although it could be
argued that these modes of audiovisual translation are inherently dissimilar
and that, given the very different constraints that they impose (Luyken
et al. 1991; Dries 1995) any comparison between the two is not legitimate,
it is undeniable that in some cases the dubbed and subtitled versions of the
same episode result in two significantly different target texts. Some of the
main differences between the dubbed and the subtitled versions are ele-
ments which tend to compromise the humorous effect of the dialogues,
and, as a consequence, the impact of the series on the target audience.
In general, it can be noted that the dubbed version is characterized by
marked text manipulation, particularly in terms of swear word use and in
some sort of flattening of humorous elements that were probably seen
as potentially disturbing for the Italian audience. On the other hand, the
subtitled version seems to result in a closer rendering of the source text,
with almost identical swear word use and an overall more accurate linguistic
adaptation. The analysis of the translational choices in this episode will be
presented according to the following categories concerning the hedging of
some humorous elements:
i. swear word reduction

ii. weakening of potentially disturbing elements
iii. verbally expressed humour

Swear word reduction

In the English version of the pilot episode of the series 43 cursewords are
found, in which different variations of fuck and fucking are included,
together with several examples of shit, bastard and some blasphemy, such as
goddamit, hell and Christ.3 The Italian subtitled version presents 39 cases
in which the original swear words are kept, while only 9 swear words are
found in the Italian dubbed version. In the case of the subtitled version,
the reduced number of swear words might be partly due to the difficulty of
rendering the interjection fucking used in its adjectival form, which is often
difficult to translate given the differences in the syntactic norms of the two
languages.4 In these cases, therefore, it could be argued that deletion is an
understandable choice, although it is also true that compensation might
have been taken into consideration as a viable translation strategy. How-
ever, this only applies to a small portion of the swear words that were
deleted in the dubbed version, which in most cases appear to have been
deleted simply due to a censoring intervention. We do not have sufficient
information on the dubbing process for this particular series to determine
whether this intervention is due to the translator/adaptor’s self-censorship
or to general censoring guidelines provided by the distributors.5 However,
recent evidence on other TV series dubbed into Italian (Bucaria 2007 and
2009; Chiaro 2007; Bianchi 2008,) seems to point in the direction of a
certain amount of arbitrariness being accepted in the dubbing process
when it comes to potentially disturbing elements.
As far as blasphemy is concerned, it should be noted that the exclama-
tions Christ! and Jesus Christ! are also carefully omitted in the dubbed
version, while some references to hell (inferno) and the devil (diavolo) are
kept. The reason for this might be that in the Italian culture these words
are not perceived as swear words as much as in the American culture,
while using the Lord’s name in vain is considered blasphemy in both
cultures. Although more comparative studies would probably be required,
the assumption could be made that some of the swear words found in
the English version are not necessarily perceived as being as strong in
Italian (e.g. bastard), therefore they were kept unaltered. The subtitled
version, on the other hand, left virtually all the examples of blasphemy
untouched. On a general note, it should also be pointed out that the use of
swear words in the written mode intuitively seems to be in itself stronger
than its spoken counterpart, thus making the subtitled version potentially
even more shocking than the dubbed one: ‘Expletives are often more
offensive when starkly reproduced in text than when they are spoken’
(Luyken et al. 1991: 57).

As already noted, swear words are almost completely omitted in the dubbed
version. From personal communications with dubbing professionals, it seems
plausible to hypothesize that this choice was not made by the dubbing
scriptwriters themselves but was imposed by some sort of network censor-
ship, in order to ensure that the series could be broadcast on national TV.
Of course, deletion of swear words did not prevent the series from being
broadcast only late at night. While the dubbed version remained censored
even when the series was made available on the cable TV channel FOX and,
subsequently, on DVD, the subtitled version, which is only available on
DVD, is not censored. The only exceptions to this swear word deletion
in the dubbed version seem to occur exclusively when the use of a swear
word triggers some sort of reaction on the part of characters in a specific
scene. In most cases, however, the dubbed version appears to be much more
controlled on a linguistic level than the English source text.
A typical example of this trend is to be found at the beginning of the
pilot episode, during the viewing of the corpse of an elderly lady. The scene
sees David and an old man, presumably the lady’s husband, standing over
the open coffin and having the following conversation:
(1) Man: You’ve done a nice job. She looks so peaceful.

David: Well, she is at peace now.
Man: If there’s any justice in the universe, she’s shoveling shit
in hell.
Subtitles Dubbing
Man: Siete stati bravissimi. Man: Ha fatto un ottimo
Ha un’aria così serena. lavoro. Sembra proprio che
riposi.
David: Beh, adesso è finalmente David: E adesso riposerà in
in pace. pace.
Man: Se c’è davvero giustizia Man: Se c’è un po’ di giustizia
nell’universo, adesso starà nell’universo, starà spalando
spalando merda all’inferno. sterco giù all’inferno.
A good part of the humour contained in the odd comment ‘if there’s any
justice in the universe she’s shoveling shit in hell’ is obviously omitted in
the dubbed version. While the subtitled version chooses to keep the swear
word ‘merda’ (shit) and, consequently, the potentially shocking effect of
the scene, the dubbed version tones it down by using the more refined
‘sterco’ (excrements). This reduces the discrepancy between the solemnity

of the situation and the language used, thus also reducing the comic effect.
This is a good example of how the translational choice to leave the
swear words in the subtitled version6 is made even more powerful by the
stronger impact that is intrinsic in the written word. Other examples
of swear word reduction are contained in a monologue by Federico, the
Fishers’ body restructuring expert, who boasts about his latest ‘works’ to a
befuddled Nate.
(2) Federico: Ok, here it goes. This is the one I’m most proud of.
A husband, ok? got fired, flipped out [popping sound],
shot his wife point blank in the head, right? Turned
around and shot himself in the mouth. Serious closed
casket shit, right? Now look at this. Uh? Like the bride
and groom on top of a cake. (pauses and his expression
changes) And then we cremated them. What a fucking
waste.
Subtitles Dubbing
Eccole qui. Questo è il lavoro Guarda che meraviglia! È il lavoro di
di cui vado più fiero. Il cui vado più fiero. Il marito, ci sei?
marito, va bene . . . Lo con l’automatica, colpo in canna,
licenziano, dà fuori di testa boom, una palla in testa alla moglie,
. . . spara alla moglie e poi la fa secca e poi si spara in bocca e
si spara in bocca. Rigorosa- tanti saluti. Se ricordo bene li hanno
mente da bara chiusa, no? E cremati tutti e due. E guarda questi,
adesso guarda qua. Sembrano eh? Non sembrano anche a te i
gli sposini in cima alla torta! pupazzetti sulla torta? Hanno
E poi li abbiamo cremati. cremato anche questi. Tanto lavoro
Che cazzo di spreco! buttato al vento.
The use of swear words when talking about, and even in the presence
of, disfigured dead bodies reflects Federico’s relaxed attitude towards his
job, which one does not perceive as strongly when watching the translated
versions. The deletion of the first swear word, shit, used in its typically
American non-literal sense of stuff, thing, etc., is in this case more under-
standable, since it does not have a direct and univocal swear word equiva-
lent in Italian. However, the deletion in the dubbed version of the second
expression ‘what a fucking waste’, used by Federico when talking about
the decision to cremate his best restructuring work, seems definitely more
radical. On the other hand, the subtitled version keeps the swear words

only in the final punch line. This translational choice in the dubbed version
fails thoroughly to convey Federico’s nonchalance towards his job but, from
a more general perspective, also to justify David’s reprimand about this
attitude later in the episode.
The explicit censoring intervention operated by means of swear word
reduction in the dubbed version also provides insight into the obviously
powerful role of commissioners in deciding what should be included or left
out of the Italian translation. It seems plausible to assume that this problem
would not exist when subtitles are created, since they are not intended for
such a large audience as the TV audience but are meant to be available
only to the relatively few viewers who choose the subtitled version on DVD.
Weakening of potentially disturbing elements

Because of either their sexual content or the attitude they reflect towards
death, some elements seem to have been toned down in the dubbed
version. At the beginning of the episode in question, Ruth and her son
David are discussing Nathaniel’s decision to buy a new hearse for the funeral
business.
(3) David: Oh, that new hearse was a total waste of money, there was
nothing wrong with the old one.
Ruth: I think your father is having some sort of mid-life crisis.
David: It would have made much more sense in investing in
repanelling for the chapel or adding coffee bars to the
slumber rooms.
Ruth: Well, I’d much rather he buy himself a fancy new hearse than
leave me for a younger woman. Or a woman my age for that
matter. Or Heaven forbid a man, like my cousin Hannah’s
husband did. God sure has dealt that woman some blows in
this life.
Subtitles Dubbing
David: Quel carro funebre è David: Quell’auto nuova è stata
stato un spreco di soldi. Quello uno spreco di soldi. La vecchia
vecchio funzionava benissimo. andava ancora a meraviglia.
Ruth: Credo che tuo padre stia Ruth: Tuo padre ci teneva, si è
avendo una specie di crisi di fatto un regalo per la crisi di
mezza età. mezza età.

David: Sarebbe stato più logico David: Era meglio investire per
rimodernare la cappella o ridrappeggiare la cappella oppure
aggiungere banconi nelle mettere le macchinette del caffé
camere ardenti. nelle camere ardenti.
Ruth: Beh, io preferisco che si Ruth: Comunque, è sempre
compri un carro funebre nuovo meglio che si sfoghi con un’auto
piuttosto che mi lasci per una nuova che tradendomi con una
donna più giovane. O per una ragazzina. O con una donna della
donna della mia età, se è per mia età. Gli uomini come il
quello. Oppure, Dio ce ne marito di mia cugina Hannah il
scampi, per un uomo! Come il Cielo li dovrebbe castigare. Il
marito di mia cugina Hannah. Signore ha riservato dure prove a
Dio le ha riservato parecchi quella povera donna.
brutti colpi, nella vita!
As can be seen from the transcription above, the dubbed version omitted
two of the humorous elements in the dialogue. The first one is the refer-
ence to Nathaniel’s mid-life crisis and his desire to buy a ‘fancy new hearse’.
Although Ruth’s intention is certainly not that of being funny about it,
there is no doubt that in English the comment sounds odd and offbeat,
thus provoking hilarity in the viewer. In the Italian dubbed version, on the
other hand, hearse is turned into a much more generic auto (car), thus eli-
minating the possibility for a humorous parallel between a regular car and
a hearse. Moreover, Ruth’s comment in the dubbed version reads roughly
as ‘your father really wanted it: he gave himself a present for his mid-life
crisis’, which does not keep the meaning of the English version.
The other element, for which it does not appear implausible to talk about
censoring intervention, is the reference to homosexuality. The omission of
this element in the dubbed version is not just a mere oversight, since it
compromises the viewer’s thorough understanding of the dynamics between
the two characters in the scene. In particular, David is a closet homosexual
who will find it particularly difficult to come out to his mother during the
rest of the first season. Ruth’s comment in this scene is therefore important,
since it shows that her attitude towards homosexuality is not one of accept-
ance and understanding.
Other scenes showing this kind of flattening in the Italian translation,
and in the dubbed version in particular, are some of the fake commercials
for funeral products that are interspersed throughout the episode. In the
second commercial, we are presented with a close up of a reclined, very fit

male body, while the speaker praises the qualities of Living Splendor Embalm-
ing Fluid. In this case, both the dubbed and subtitled versions chose to
omit the clear reference to the embalming fluid, thus leaving the viewer to
wonder exactly what kind of product we are talking about (cream, body
lotion?). Although it is clear even from the translated versions that the
body we are seeing on the screen is actually a dead one and not that of a
model, the Italian versions leave out a detail that adds considerably to the
macabre quality of the fake commercial.
The third commercial in the episode advertises Wound Filler, a cosmetic
moulding putty. We see a woman being made up by another woman
while the speaker talks about mortal wounds inflicted by a ‘tragic, disfigur-
ing accident’. A closer look reveals that the first woman is actually dead.
Although the Italian dubbed version keeps the general tone of the English
source text, it chooses to mitigate it, for example, by avoiding direct
mention of wounds, which become cicatrici (scars), or by referring to the
more explicit moulding putty as ‘maschera di bellezza’ (beauty mask).
Again, the meaning of the commercial is clear but the effect a little less
macabre.
Verbally expressed humour

The cases of lines based on verbally expressed humour in the form of paro-
nomasia are limited, with only two examples in the episode falling into
this category. However, more in general, some examples of what Chiaro
(2006) calls ‘non-specific verbally expressed humour’ or ‘good lines’ are
also found, not necessarily in a black humour context. The following is a
case in point:
(4) Nate: I’m gonna be one of those losers who ends up in his death
bed saying: ‘Where did my life go?’
Claire: No, you won’t. You’ll be saying ‘where the hell’s the
morphine?’
Subtitles Dubbing
Nate: Sarò uno di quei falliti Nate: Sto buttando la vita al vento
che sul letto di morte dirà: ma non lo capirò finché non sarò
“Che ne è stato della mia vita?” arrivato sul letto di morte.
Claire: No, invece. Dirai: “Dove Claire: Ma no, dai. Magari non lo
diavolo è la morfina?” capirai nemmeno lì.

A typical example of wordplay in SFU is a dialogue between Nate and his

future girlfriend, Brenda, whom he has just met on a plane. When they
land and are about to part they have the following exchange:
(5) Nate: My dad was supposed to meet me here.

Brenda: I can give you a ride.
Nate: Oh, that’s ok. I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough.
Brenda: I wasn’t talking about that kind of ride.
Subtitles Dubbing
Nate: Mio padre avrebbe Nate: Mio padre doveva essere
dovuto incontrarmi qui. qui . . .
Brenda: Potrei darti uno Brenda: Vuoi venire con me?
strappo io.
Nate: Non ti disturbare, Nate: No, no, non ti preoccupare,
arriverà. adesso arriva.
Brenda: Non intendevo quel Brenda: Che hai capito? non
tipo di strappo. intendevo in quel senso.
The subtitled version renders ‘ride’ only in the literal sense (with the
informal word for ‘lift’, strappo), without attempting to re-create the pun
and thus leaving the sexual innuendo to the facial expressions and to Nate’s
surprised reaction. The dubbed dialogue on the other hand brilliantly
plays on the sexual double meaning of the verb ‘venire’ (to come), thus
keeping the ambiguity in Brenda’s sentence, and, as a consequence, the
hint at the woman’s uninhibited sexual behaviour that will be developed
later in the series. This choice in the dubbed version is actually surprising
if one considers that, in general, explicit language tends to be purposely
omitted in the rest of the episode, while the subtitled version is usually
characterized by a closer rendering of this kind of expressions.
The second example of wordplay in the episode occurs in the last com-
mercial for funeral products. It advertises an earth dispenser to be used
at funerals when the time comes for the participants to throw a fistful of
soil onto the coffin before it is lowered into the ground. A group of dancers
look like they are having fun shaking the earth dispenser and dancing
to the sound of ‘(Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty’ by KC & The
Sunshine Band, while the speaker announces: ‘Only from Franklin’s Funeral
Supplies. We put the fun back in funeral.’ Interestingly enough, the dub-
bed version offers a successful attempt to keep if not the pun, at least a

semantically appropriate wordplay with the sentence ‘perché d’ora in poi

non avrai più quella faccia da funerale!’ (‘from now on you will not have
that sad expression anymore’). The idiomatic phrase ‘faccia da funerale’,
which in Italian literally means ‘a facial expression that you would have
at funerals’, keeps the punch line within the same semantic field of the
English version and also attempts to reproduce an example of verbal
humour that would have been otherwise lost in the target language. On the
other hand, the subtitled version offers ‘per un funerale in allegria’ (‘for a
cheerful/fun funeral’), thus reproducing the semantic contrast between
the words ‘allegria’ and ‘funerale’ but not attempting to offer a more
idiomatic alternative.
Two main issues arise at this point. The first one is related to why such
discrepancies are present in the rendering of wordplay in the subtitled and
in the dubbed versions. A possible reason might be the time and economic
constraints to which subtitling is usually subject. Although dubbing is also
performed in very strict time frames, more funds and, consequently, care
are usually put into dubbing than subtitling, especially for series such as
SFU that are expected to be critically acclaimed. Conversely, the subtitling
market in Italy, especially as far as DVDs are concerned, is extremely unsta-
ble in terms of retribution, time allowed for the translation and adaptation
of dialogues, and, consequently, for the qualitative levels of the workforce
involved. The more successful rendering of wordplay in the dubbed version
might then be ascribed to the reduced qualitative standards and the time
constraints to which a portion of the subtitling market in Italy seems to be
subject. However, regardless of the cause for the discrepancies between
the dubbed and subtitled versions of SFU, the fact remains that the two are
significantly different in the way they convey the humorous content of the
source audiovisual text. Based on these premises, one could reflect about
the possible implications concerning the perception of this audiovisual text
on the part of viewers. For example, it could be argued that the Italian view-
ers who watch the dubbed version on TV or DVD do not watch the same
series as the viewers, although certainly a minority, who choose the sub-
titled version. By the same token, one might expect that the dubbed version
is perceived by audiences as being funnier and also less offensive, due to the
deletion of most potentially offensive language. Indeed, the results of a
recent study on the perception of humour in the dubbed and subtitled
versions of the same episode of SFU (Bucaria 2005) proved that the less
offensive translation present in the dubbed version creates more enjoyment
and less annoyance than the closer rendering of swear words or of other
potentially disturbing material that was kept in the subtitled version.

Although more perception studies are needed in order to statistically

prove that the perception of the translated versions is significantly different
from that of the source text on the part of the original intended viewers,
it could be plausibly assumed that Italian viewers are not presented with
an audiovisual text that has a similar pragmatic effect as the source text
on its intended audience. While it is undeniable that, by definition, every
translated text presents a certain amount of shifting from the source text’s
intended effect, the case of SFU brings to the fore issues related to the
correctness of such major infringement of the source text intentions,
which is all the more significant if we consider that Italian viewers are not
for the most part aware of the changes that occur during the adaptation
process.
3. Conclusions
This chapter compared the two Italian versions (dubbed and subtitled) of
the pilot episode of the American TV series Six Feet Under, in an attempt to
highlight how the significantly different translational choices adopted in
each one in many cases compromised the rendering of the humorous
component of the series in its English version. In particular, by means of
specific examples from the dialogues in the episode, observations were
made concerning three categories: swear word reduction, weakening of
potentially disturbing elements and verbally expressed humour. As far as
swear word reduction is concerned, this proved to be a consistent trans-
lational choice operated in the dubbed version because of what was hypo-
thesized to be network intervention on the dubbing scriptwriters’ work.
Another case of possible network censorship in the dubbed version was
found in the tendency to weaken and flatten most explicit references to
some of the most prominent elements in the series, such as death and
sexual behaviour. On the other hand, while the subtitled version repro-
duced swear words and other potentially disturbing elements in a more
‘faithful’ way, it was found wanting in the rendering of two examples of
verbally expressed humour, which were more successfully transposed in
the dubbed version.
Far from being an attempt to try and establish the superiority of one
mode of audiovisual translation over the other, this study hypothesized that
practical reasons, among other factors, might be at the basis of such discre-
pancies in the dubbed and in the subtitled versions, with particular refer-
ence to the censoring intervention on the work of dubbing scriptwriters

and on the strict time requirements which are often found to compromise
quality, especially in the subtitling market. Finally, observations were
made on the importance of investigating the possible implications that
the different translational choices highlighted above might have on audi-
ence perception of the same TV series, and on the ethical issues posed to
translators by other cases similar to Six Feet Under.
Notes
1
A popular one involves men touching their genitals whenever someone’s death is mentioned
or when a hearse with a casket inside passes by.
2
This information was taken from the website of the popular Italian magazine TV Sorrisi e
Canzoni, even though the actual results of their appreciation survey were not made available
to us.
3
In the count we followed Azzaro’s (2005) classification of taboo language, although we did
not include expletives such as idiot or jerk, since they do not retain the potentially shocking
effect of the other swear words taken into consideration here.
4
On the translation of swear words in dubbing see Pavesi and Malinverno (2000).
5
For the distinction between ‘censorship’ and ‘censoring’ see Allan and Burridge (2006).
6
For an account of the actual impact of this and other scenes in this episode on an audience
sample see Bucaria (2005).
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Six Feet Under (2001–2005)

USA, HBO
Created by Alan Ball
Italian dubbed version:
Six Feet Under
Dubbing performed by EDIT
Italian dialogues by Luca Intoppa, Antonella Damigelli
Dubbing director: Fabrizio Temperini.

Chapter 13
Dynamic versus Static Discourse: Will & Grace

and its Spanish Dubbed Version
Roberto A. Valdeón
1. Introduction
Since the advent of the cinema at the turn of the twentieth century, fiction
writing has exploited visual and linguistic elements to create comic situa-
tions. Whereas in silent films, facial expressions and gesticulations were
two of the main components of screen humour, the arrival of talking motion
pictures introduced the spoken word and combined it with all the other
elements. Modern situation comedies somehow exemplify the symbiosis
of the importance of the image in the earlier masterpieces and the contem-
porary tendency to imitate the spontaneous spoken word. Among the
researchers working on the connections between orality and humour,
Eggins and Slade (1997: 157) enumerate phonological elements (such as
pace, volume, intonation or stress) as well as kinaesthetic cues (including
changes in facial expressions or physical posture). But they also underline
the central role of the verbal component in the creation of humorous situ-
ations, which, they argue, tend to rely on differences between individuals,
groups or communities. The taxonomy they propose (Ibid.: 158–159) is
particularly relevant for this chapter since it is based on the analysis of
casual talk. The classification establishes different types of interactional
relations among speakers. According to Eggins and Slade, in comic situa-
tions we may encounter one or more of the following: (1) the tease involves
several or all participants teasing one member, (2) the teases addressed to
the participants imply a critical view of some of the social attributes or
behaviour of the participants or (3) the participants respond in different
ways when teasing is addressed to them. That is, any ‘difference’ between
the speakers can encourage what they term as the ‘tease’.
In this chapter I focus on the use of gayness as an element of difference,
and hence as a component of the comic situations occurring in the
American series Will & Grace (1998–2006), one of the television hits of

Will & Grace and its Spanish Dubbed Version 239
the first decade of the twenty-first century, and the Spanish dubbed version
(the only one available in Spain at the time of writing). The programme
depicts the lives and works of four characters living in downtown Man-
hattan. It is an urban comedy evolving around the sexuality of two of the
protagonists, attorney Will Truman (played by Eric McCormack) and good-
for-nothing Jack McFarland (played by Sean Hayes), the first gay characters
to star in a sitcom in mainstream television. The cast also includes Debra
Missing, playing designer Grace Adler, and Megan Mullally as her wealthy
friend Karen Walker.
I cover the various ways in which humour is fabricated around the gay
characters, including wordplay, cultural references and other paralinguistic
elements. Secondly, I explore differences between the source version and
the target programmes to conclude with a final discussion on the divergent
discourses present in the two versions. I use two concepts put forward by
Fairclough (1995: 60): the extent to which the lexical choices in the texts
inform us as to whether we are confronted with what Fairclough terms ‘con-
ventional discourse practice’ or ‘creative discourse practice’. Fairclough’s
‘schemata’ and ‘scripts’ (2001: 134–7) are also relevant for the study of
the representation and interpretation of gayness in the two languages.
Schemata in this chapter are taken as conventionalized typifications of
gayness whereas ‘scripts’ as the embodiment of those typifications in the
two protagonists. Fairclough stresses the power of scripts in maintaining
‘stereotypal scenarios and sequences of events associated with them’ (1998:
197). Their use may contribute to the survival of ideologically harmful
beliefs or negative stereotypes.
2. Sex, Stereotypes and Humour
Sexual orientation and the integration of gays in society are at the basis
of the comic situations in Will & Grace. The series successfully uses homo-
sexuals and heterosexuals alike in wordplay, puns and ironic remarks. Gays
and gayness become part of weekly television time for all audiences, straight
and gay. To achieve this goal, the scriptwriters have recourse to clichéd
perceptions of the gay world in which the two protagonists represent two
different approaches to gay problems. Will Truman is a relatively successful
lawyer who took some time to become conscious of his own sexual orienta-
tion, but he does not flaunt his preferences, and could easily pass for a
heterosexual. Conversely, Jack McFarland is characterized as effeminate
and very gesticulatory. He is capable of turning any issue, relevant or

irrelevant, into a question of gay rights. The two have a close relationship,
but not a sexual one, and there is no indication that they ever had one.
The two stereotypes roughly correspond to Barrett’s (2003) definition of
the two major approaches to gay rights. Truman would be closer to the
‘culture-based model’ whereas Jack would belong to the ‘desire-based
model’ (Barrett 2003). The emphasis in the latter is on sex, whereas the
former tends to view this as detrimental to the advancement of gay rights
(Barrett 2003: 541).
The use of the stereotype of flaunting gayness is present in most episodes.
In the pilot programme, the writers introduce the characters by making a
sharp contrast between the reactions, the gestures and the idiolect of the
two friends. When it is hinted that everyone knows that Jack is gay, it is
Will who makes the following comment:
(1) Jack: Why would you just assume that I was gay? Are you finished?
Ok. FYI, folks, most people that meet me do not know that
I am gay.
Will: Jack, blind and deaf people know you’re gay. Dead people
know you’re gay.
Jack: ¿Por qué das por hecho que soy gay? Muy bien ¿Habéis
terminado? Para vuestra información la mayoría de la gente
no sabe que soy gay.
Will: Jack, los ciegos y los sordos saben que eres gay. Hasta los
muertos saben que eres gay.
The stereotype is particularly noteworthy in the first season where

the need for characterization is certainly greater. The cliché of the effemi-
nate man is built around a number of elements commonly associated
with the gay world such as the search for sex (‘you and me on a gay singles
weekend cruise. Kind of a cruise . . . to cruise’, or ‘tú y yo en un crucero
para gays, una especie de viaje al desenfreno’ in Spanish, proposes Jack
to Will in 1.11) or the obsession with the passing of time and the deteriora-
tion of one’s own good looks (Jack in 1.15: ‘Oh, my god. I’m 30. Do you
know what that is in gay years? It’s over. I’m gone’, rendered into Spanish
as ‘¡Díos mío! Tengo treinta años. ¿Sabes lo que es eso en años gay? Finito.
Se acabó’).
The presence of these stereotypes in the creation of humour could
be argued to neutralize any attempts at political correctness, because, as
shown by Chiaro (1992), jokes are often targeted at specific groups, such
as nationalities, races, the genders, and, of course, sexual minorities like

gays or lesbians. In fact, political correctness might be said to function as

the declared enemy of verbal play, and vice versa. If we turned to other
renowned sitcoms, we would soon encounter similar stereotypes at the
centre of the laughing business: in Fawlty Towers (1975), the Spanish waiter
is presented as incompetent and the English hotel owner as daft whereas
his wife is portrayed as bitchy.
In Will & Grace, political incorrectness can be traced in the portrayal
of sex minorities, often in combination with touches of mockery of other
nationalities and genders. Gayness is often assimilated to Britishness, and
whenever Will wants to sound particularly affected he puts on a standard
British accent. This contradicts the view that, in English, a French accent
(Harvey 1998) or other Romance language accents (Ives 2005: 113) are
used as devices characteristic of the gay persona. In American English,
at least, the standard British accent is perceived as affected and used to
characterize gayness. The association is made quite explicit on occasions:
(2) Will: Jack, C-3P0 is not gay, he’s British.

Will: C-3P0 no significa gay en ningún idioma. (1.13)
Humour is, thus, achieved via the presentation of pre-existing stereotypes

embedded within the source culture, realized by means of linguistic devices
at a phonological level (an affected accent, the intonation, etc.), and, of
course, at a lexical level. In Will & Grace, ‘gay’ is the term preferred by the
protagonists to refer to themselves. The tendency is established in the first
series and increased in subsequent seasons. The writers clearly opt for the
positive term ‘gay’, making only occasional use of other items that could
be regarded as mildly or openly offensive. The word ‘gay’ appears in all
forms and in all possible combinations. Here follow the most common
strategies used by the scriptwriters to build humour around the item:
1. The term is combined with other phonologically similar words to express

contrast in a jocular manner: ‘Oh, honey, come on. Gay, straight, bi,
Thai, they don’t like change’ Here the Spanish version emphasizes
the sexual component by using ‘trío’ [‘threesome’] and eliminates the
phonetically similar ‘bi’ and ‘Thai’: ‘Cariño, por favor. Gay, hetero, trío.
Nadie quiere cambiar’, says Karen in 1.03.
2. Verbal play might derive from the alteration of one or more sounds
to produce a new term in the gay lexicon. In 1.16 Will stresses that ‘Jack
has the most finely tuned gaydar in the tri-state area,’ where ‘gaydar’
stresses Jack’s ability to identify gay men. The Spanish version needs to

make some minor adjustments, but the result works reasonably well: ‘El
mejor radar gay de todo el estado’ [‘the best gay radar in the state’].
3. The term ‘gay’ may be used in puns to create a double-entendre effect,
that is, it may take advantage of the pre-1960s semantic implication (as
‘happy’ or ‘joyful’) while evoking the new meaning: ‘I’m just gonna take
my gay self back to my gay apartment, live my gay life, and have a gay
old time’ (4.14). In Spanish ‘gay’ is retained (‘. . . a mi apartamento gay,
vivir mi vida gay . . .’), but since in the target language the term only
means ‘homosexual’, the effect is lost.
4. Additionally ‘gay’ tends to collocate in certain expressions, some of
which are already widely used (such as, ‘gay pride’ in 2.05, ‘gay sex’ in
2.14 or ‘gay bar’ in 5.24), while others are introduced by the writers.
Thus, the viewers will become aware of the existence of ‘gay jeans’
(4.01), ‘gay nights’ (5.15), etc.
5. At a larger discursive level, the term introduces linguistic and cultural
stereotypes of gay life as a source of humour. In 1.05 Jack describes
Karen (a character physically resembling Elizabeth Taylor, another gay
symbol) as ‘an icon to gay men’.
6. Finally, the word is used in combination with other stereotypes about
human relationships to establish a contrast or a comparison between
gay and heterosexual ways of life: ‘Will, are you sure you’re gay? ’Cause
this felt exactly like a night between me and the Mrs’, says Harlin, one
of Will’s clients in 1.03 (the Spanish episode says: ‘Will, ¿seguro que eres
gay? Porque he sentido lo mismo que siento cuando discuto con mi
mujer’).
These strategies are also applied to the other three items used in the
series, that is ‘fag’, ‘homo’ and ‘queer’, although the number of examples
is much smaller. ‘Homosexual’ as a neutral term is rarely used, while ‘homo’
tends to feature in some forms of verbal play.
‘Queer’, on the other hand, is rarely uttered in the programme. The
word has been reclaimed by gays (Barrett 2003), but it may retain its
negative connotations when used by other groups of speakers (see, for
instance, the Oxford Dictionary of English). This might have prompted the
writers to avoid it in the series. For instance, in 5.07 Will warns Jack that
‘Someone yelling “queer” from a passing car is not a fan.’ The negative
implication is clearly identified and relayed into Spanish as ‘Los que
gritan maricón desde el coche no son tus fans’, that is, ‘queer’ becomes the
offensive ‘maricón’.
Finally ‘fag’ is scarcely used in the programme, and the characters
are aware of its insulting nature. In series 1 Will opts for the word when

criticizing his friend’s annoying personality: ‘I don’t know, sometimes he’s

just such a . . . fag’ (1.19) while Jack himself might even use it to assert his
sexual orientation vis-à-vis Will’s more restrained attitude: ‘I’d rather be a
fag than afraid.’ The translators are aware of the emotional force implied in
the original and relayed the exchange as ‘No sé, a veces puede ser tan . . .
maricón’, while Jack’s words become ‘Prefiero ser maricón que vivir con
miedo’.
But in Will & Grace irony does not merely contribute to construct sitcom
humour. It is true, as has been noted by authors like Gottlieb (1997), Katan
(2004: 305) and Chiaro (2005), that Anglophone situation comedies rely
to a great extent on the use of irony, because it does work well for both the
writers and the audience. In this sense, the combination of gay terminology
and gay stereotypes allows for hilarious situations where gays are not only
the target but also the most important source of humour. However, the
scriptwriters also take advantage of such situations to argue in favour of
gay rights in a subtle manner. Thus, irony is presented as an instrument
capable of projecting criticism of traditional and damaging stereotypes
about the gay community. For instance, in 1.04, Will’s wealthy and tolerant
client is ridiculed when he is reluctant to enter a gay bar on the following
grounds: ‘What if I go gay?’ he wonders (aptly maintained in target version
as ‘¿Y si me vuelvo gay?’). And, although Will is particularly skilful at
identifying and dismantling this type of harmful clichés, Jack can also be
incisive when using overturning heterosexual arguments at the service of
gay politics, as in:
(3) Jack: Oh, oh, yeah, ok, no. What you two do behind closed doors is
your business, ok, but flaunting that lifestyle like you’re doing
right now is just plain gross.
Jack: ¡Oi! ¡Qué asco vale vale vale! Lo que hagáis los dos en la alcoba
es cosa vuestra, pero eso de coquetear en público como estáis
haciendo ahora es una grosería. (4.01).
Here the speaker uses a classic argument against public display of homo-
sexual affection. However, the speaker, Jack, is making an ironic remark
about Grace and her boyfriend. The writers have had recourse to what
Fairclough calls a ‘blatant mismatch between apparent meaning and situ-
ational context’ (1992: 123) to produce the ironic interpretation of the
situation. In this sense, the source version changes some of the predictable
elements that may shape the ‘schema’ of the gay persona and, consequently,
of a stereotype easily identifiable by the audience (Fairclough 2001: 131).
Irony plays a key role in altering the cliché, and the writers have selected

Jack as the ‘script’ (or actual representation of the stereotype). Thus, they
have achieved a twofold effect: challenging the negative stereotype by
means of one of the very characters that represent it.
3. Sex and Stereotypes to Build Target-text Humour
Most of the linguistic and cultural elements present in Will & Grace are
rendered into Spanish in a straightforward manner, maintaining both the
semantic component and the comical effect. This applies to ironic remarks
(as in examples 1 and 3) as well as to phonological elements (e.g. the
Spanish Will also imitates the standard British accent by using aspirated
plosives or a British ‘r’, both identifiable by the target audience). As stated,
less successful is the transformation of puns, where the effect is irreme-
diably lost (particularly whenever the double meaning of words like ‘gay’
and ‘queer’ is involved).
However, the most noticeable changes concern the gay issue.1 The target
version retains ‘gay’ in most cases, even if Spanish is more likely to use
‘homosexual’ in some contexts (as in ‘matrimonio homosexual’ for ‘gay
marriage’, rather than ‘matrimonio gay’). There might be several reasons
for the choice, such as the inertia of translating a term that has become
standard in the target language and subculture, or the fact that it could
be the preferred choice by the Spanish gay community too. In other cases,
it also contributes to maintain the synchronization of the scene:
(4) Karen: You fell out of the gay tree hitting every gay branch on the
way down. And you landed on a gay guy. And you did him.
No, no, honey, your gayness can be seen from space.
Karen: Tú te caíste del árbol de los gays dándote golpes en cada
rama gay. Y aterrizaste sobre un gay. Y te lo tiraste. No, cariño,
tu homosexualidad se ve desde el espacio. (4.19)
Here the use of ‘homosexual’ would have rendered the translated text
more difficult to fit into the time slot available, but the word ‘gayness’ does
need to be translated as ‘homosexualidad’. The choices do not alter the
intended effect of the original, and Karen’s ironic interpretation of Jack’s
gayness remains very close to the source text. This applies to most other
renderings, such as ‘Whatever I don’t get, I just figure is gay’ relayed as ‘Lo
que no entiendo doy por hecho que es gay’ (1.04) or ‘when the gays can
get married’ which becomes ‘cuando los gays nos podamos casar’ (2.23).

But the most notable feature in the choice of lexicon involves the intro-
duction of the pejorative term ‘marica’, as well as its derivatives ‘maricón’,
‘maricona’, ‘maricuelo’, ‘mariquita’ or ‘mariconear’, to translate ‘gay’ or
‘gay-related activities’. Whereas ‘gay’ and ‘homosexual’ are used with simi-
lar connotations in both languages, ‘marica’ is an offensive term applied
to the effeminate stereotype of homosexual male. The word is often used
as an insult, not always connected with sexual orientation. For instance, it
may be used to imply that someone is bland, weak or a coward (Diccionario
de la Real Academia 2001). In the context of a sitcom that depicts certain
gay types, the connection between these negative attributes and sexual
orientation can become blatantly offensive, as in:
(5) Jack: While you were out of the country discovering the gay jean
. . . I was here raising my son.
Jack: Sí, mientras tú estabas en el extranjero buscando vaqueros
de marica . . . yo estaba aquí criando a mi hijo. (4.01)
It should be noted that they tend to be used by Jack, who, as mentioned,

represents the effeminate stereotype. This feature is made obvious in both
versions through non-linguistic elements, such as his gesticulations, leg
movements and facial expressions. Moreover, the voice of the dubbed ver-
sion accentuates this feature by making the intonation and modulation of
his voice more noticeable than in the original. In other words, there is a
clear tendency to heighten the stereotype.
Additionally, Jack’s use of the term ‘marica’ (and its derivatives) in con-
texts where the source text prefers ‘gay’ puts an additional emphasis on the
cliché. For instance, in example (5) the scriptwriters rely on his tendency
to make exaggerated statements. Will was holidaying in Paris while Jack
finally met the son he had fathered for a lesbian friend many years before.
The sarcastic comment, in fact, highlights his jealousy at having missed
the trip to Paris whereas ‘gay jean’ attempts to emphasize the banality
of Will’s life (the Spanish version also misses the pun on ‘gay jean’). The
target text, however, changes the emphasis by giving final focus to ‘marica’.
The translators have taken a greater advantage of the elements that are
associated with ‘being gay’ and have used them for their version. That is,
they remain closer to the traditional ‘script’ or ‘typification’ (Fairclough
2001: 133) of homosexuality.
The contrast between existing stereotypes of homosexuality and hetero-
sexuality is another common source of humour in the programme, particu-
larly where Jack is involved. And once again the target version accentuates

his effeminate features. For instance, in 4.19 Karen states that she needs an
actor to play a heterosexual part but rejects Jack as an option. He retorts
that ‘I could play totally straight,’ which the Spanish version turns into ‘yo
puedo hacer de machote’ [‘I could play macho types’] rather than the
more literal rendering ‘yo puedo hacer de hetero’. The equation in the
dubbed version compares heterosexuals to virile males, and, consequently,
gays to more effeminate types.
Other characters, including Will, also highlight the equation gays-effeminate
men. In 5.06, Will makes yet another remark about his friend’s intelligence
and sense of style in the following pun: ‘Oh, Jack. Cute as a button. Not
quite as smart.’ The Spanish version opts for an adaptation that emphasizes
Jack’s affected features: ‘Oh, Jack. A tí sí que te cuelgan . . . las plumitas’.
Here the term ‘plumitas’ derives from ‘plumas’, that is, ‘feathers’. In Span-
ish this item, together with ‘pájaro’ [‘bird’], is used in insulting remarks
addressed at effeminate homosexuals.
4. Final Discussion
In Will & Grace we notice that the stereotypes based on Barrett’s models
have been somewhat blurred for the benefit of mainstream television
and audience, probably because, as Barrett (2003: 538) underlines, a desire-
based definition of gay men might result in an emphasis of the physique
over anything else. Thus, the scriptwriters have limited the use of extreme
stereotypes, particularly those belonging to the desire-based model, which
might have rendered the series unpalatable except for smaller proportions
of the audience.
Still, Will and Jack are homosexual characters, portrayed as leading very
different and, often, conflicting lives. These differences and conflicts give
vent to the humorous scenes of the source version, whereby the audience
can easily identify the partial stereotypes, or schemata in Fairclough’s terms
(2001: 134–137), with a number of predictable behavioural, linguistic and
cultural elements. These schemata take life in two scripts, or actual repre-
sentations of those schemata, through their activities, relationships and
speech acts: Will and Jack. Their blurred characterizations, combined with
the negative embodiments of heterosexuality used for the straight charac-
ters, are a contributing factor in portraying gays as equal to heterosexuals.
The source episodes present coherent characterizations within the bounda-
ries of those softened stereotypes. In this sense, these portrayals offer the
viewers examples of what Fairclough calls ‘creative discursive practice’

(1995: 60), because they signal some degree of change, however small and
tentative it could be. That is, the writers have contributed to the evolution
of sitcoms in mainstream television, and more precisely, to the presence
of gay characters as protagonists. Television audiences can laugh with gay
characters rather than at gay characters. The writers have weakened exist-
ing stereotypes, and have also used widely accepted lexical items: the visual,
linguistic, kinaesthetic, social and cultural elements can be described as
being ‘dynamic’ in the sense that they are a factor in the acceptance of
alternative sexual orientations.
Consequently, if the tendency in the source text is to tone down negative
stereotypes, it could be argued that, after all, some degree of political cor-
rectness has limited the extent to which the protagonists are characterized.
They are gay characters that laugh at themselves, and they are comparable
to the relaxed presentation of the heterosexual protagonists. Conversely,
the choices in the Spanish version could be interpreted as contradictory
(Harvey 2003: 45). While the use of the more positive term ‘gay’ or the
neutral ‘homosexual’ signals a change in the discoursal presentation of
homosexuality in a traditionally homophobe society, the repeated presence
of ‘marica’ and its derivatives still reflects the negative approach to gay
issues in the target culture. Recent attempts by academics to repositivize the
term, which parallel the move in Anglophone university circles as regards
the word ‘queer’, cannot be claimed to have had any sociolinguistic impact
on Spanish speakers. The trend is far too recent and is certainly limited
to the academia.
A final point should be made with regard to Eggins and Slade’s classifica-
tion (1997: 157) of comic situations. Whereas in spontaneous humorous
situations, understood as those that occur in everyday conversational
encounters in an unplanned manner, the tease tends to be addressed at the
same person(s), in those scripted for the cinema and television industries
the positions are interchangeable. That is, in real life certain individuals
seem to be the easy target of the teasing, but the limitations of fiction and
the need to maintain the characters alive for the audience force writers
to introduce variants whereby characters might exchange positions. Jack’s
open attitude to his sexuality makes him an easy target, as exemplified in
(1) and (4) above. In these and other situations, Jack’s portrayal encour-
ages other characters to take advantage of it. However, his openness also
allows him to respond and, thus, interchange the position with one or more
characters. In example (3), sexuality is at the base of his words but the
target is Grace, and, above all, heterosexuals. That is, all the characters
partake to some extent in the three features mentioned by Eggins and

Slade, particularly in the second one since it allows the writers to enforce a
critical view of the negative influence of certain standards of (hypocritical)
morality on sexual orientation.
This also contributes to produce blurred stereotypes of the two models
of gayness, since all four protagonists can become the target of one another.
However, the choices in the Spanish version rely to a greater extent on the
traditional stereotype, making the visual and verbal presentation of gayness
far more static than in the original. For one thing, the choice of prosodic
elements in the dubbing process accentuates the effeminate features of
the protagonists, particularly in the case of Jack, already characterized as
extremely gesticulatory. Additionally, the Spanish version emphasizes what
is traditionally viewed as the gay obsession with sex (or the ‘desire model’
in Barrett’s terms, 2003). Translators often adapt the source script to pro-
vide it with a sexual innuendo that is not always available in the source
text. For instance, in 5.08 Jack is playing a ball game in a park and utters
‘Who knew I could do that?’ after throwing the ball. The Spanish text
becomes ‘¡Pero qué bien se me dan las pelotas!’, an exclamation with a
clear sexual connotation [‘I have such a good hand at ball games’ where
‘balls’ is to be understood as ‘bollocks’]. Thirdly, the translators have clearly
identified contexts where the original uses offensive terms. Thus, ‘fag’ is
translated as ‘maricón’ or ‘marica’. But these terms are also a common
rendering of the more neutral ‘homosexual’ or the more positive ‘gay’.
In some episodes, like 2.08 and 2.20 it even becomes the norm. In the
latter, for instance, ‘homo’ becomes ‘maricón’, ‘closet cases’ is turned into
‘mariquitas reprimidos’, and ‘the gayest thing’ into ‘la mariconada más
grande’. Bearing all these factors in mind, the far more static dubbed
version of Will & Grace cannot be said to achieve the beneficial objective
that researchers like Rojas (2005: 134) attribute to humour: the power
to cleanse the mind of one’s negative feelings towards oneself and, above
all, towards others.
Notes
1
I deal with the connotative value of these terms in greater depth in an article published in
Target 22:1.
References
Barrett, R. (2003). ‘Models of gay male identity and the marketing of gay language in
foreign-language phrasebooks for gay Men’, Estudios de sociolingüística, 4, (2), 533–62.

Chiaro, D. (1992). The Language of Jokes. Analysing Verbal Play. London/New York:
Routledge.
—(2005). ‘Verbally expressed humour and translation: An overview of a neglected
field’, Humour, 18, (2), 135–145.
Diccionario de la Real Academia (2001). Madrid: Espasa Calpé.
Eggins, S. and D. Slade (1997). Analysing Casual Conversation. London/Oakville:
Equinox.
Fairclough, N. (1992). Discourse and Social Change. Cambridge: Polity Press.
—(1995). Media Discourse. London: Arnold.
—([1989] 2001). Language and Power. Harlow: Longman.
Gottlieb, H. (1997). ‘You got the picture? On the polysemiotics of subtitling
wordplay’. In D. Delabastita (ed.). Traductio. Essays on Punning and Translation.
Manchester: St Jerome, 207–32.
Harvey, K. (1998). ‘Translating camp talk: Gay identities and cultural transfer’,
The Translator, 4, (2), 295–320.
—(2003). ‘Events and horizons: reading ideology in the “bindings” of translations’.
In M. Calzada (ed.). Apropos of Ideology. Translation Studies on Ideology, Ideologies
in Translation Studies. Manchester: St Jerome, 43–70.
Ives, M. (2005). ‘Queer-ise for the Straight Guys’, Norwich Papers. Studies in
Translation, 13, 111–124.
Katan, D. (2004). Translating Cultures. Manchester: St Jerome.
Oxford Dictionary of English (2003). Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Rojas Marcos, L. (2005). La fuerza del optimismo. Madrid: Aguilar.

Index
3 WD humour appreciation test 36 religion 154–6

scholars and intellectuals 163–4
Ab Fab 10 sexual allusions 161–2
abusive turn 87 wordplay 165–8
Academy Awards Ceremony 53 alliteration 103, 140, 142
humour at 57–8 ’Allo ’Allo! 11, 193
media interpreting 54–5 broken English 203–5
simultaneous interpreting 53, 55–8, comedy forms in 195–7
65–7 comic exploitation of physical
accent 9, 10, 188 imperfections 196
British, English with 202–3 Dutch subtitles 212–15
foreign 197, 200, 204, 205, 206, English with British accent 202–3
219n. 5 English with French accent
French, English with 198–200 198–200
German, English with 200–1 English with German accent 200–1
Italian, English with 201–2 English with Italian accent 201–2
oddness in 9 foreign accents 197, 200, 204, 205,
advertising, humorous 17–18, 19 206, 219n. 5
Absolut vodka 24–8 French dubbed dialogues 215–18
between English-speaking homogenizing convention 205
countries 28–30 incongruity 207, 208, 210, 215
Budweiser 27 linguistic hybridisation 197
across ethnic boundaries 20–1 mimetic function 205–6
across gender boundaries 21–2 national stereotypes 196
across global boundaries 22–8 allusions 100, 110
misandry 19 proper-name 113, 115
paradox of humour 30–1 religious 154
Alden, D. L. 23 sexual 59, 63
Alice 156, 159–60, 164 ambiguity 1, 2, 96, 142, 233
Allen, Woody, themes in 8, 72 accidental 140
1940s 162 American Film Institute 190n. 2
antihero 162–3 American humour 177
anti-Semitism 156–9 American Library of Congress 190n. 2
cultural elements 168–72 Anderson, E. 28
inclination towards Freud and Animal Crackers 175, 178, 182,
psychiatry 160–1 183, 184
IQ factor in 164 Annie Hall 72
men and women 164–5 anti-Semitism in 156
place reference in translation 159–60 cultural elements in 168
DChiaro_Index_Final.indd 251 8/12/2010 5:04:17 PM

252 Index
Annie Hall (Cont’d) Bernal-Merino, M. 89

Freudian terminology in 160–1 The Best of ’Allo ’Allo! 193
religious joke in 155 Biddle, R. 91, 92, 95
anti-Semitism 156–9 Bielsa, E. 54
Antonini, R. 1, 13, 53, 220n. 14 The Big Chill 5
Are You Being Served? 193 bilingual crosstalk 3
arousal-safety humour 23 wordplay 11–12, 206
Asimakoulas, D. 220n. 14 black humour 12, 224, 232
Astérix 44, 45, 46 Blame it on the Bellboy 6
Attardo, S. 48, 90, 190n. 4 blasphemy 227
Auden, W. H. 116 Borat 116
audience 171, 172, 189, 210, 226 Breton, A.
agent, object and 17–18, 19–21 Anthologie de l’humour noir 224
American 65 British television 4, 10–11, 121, 193
diglossic 114–19 Broadcast Advertising Clearance Centre
ethnocentric 20 (BACC), UK 29
imagined 149 broken English 203–5
intended 235 Bros-Brann, E. 55
Italian 59 Brugnolo, S. 224
monolingual 206 Bucaria, C. 1, 12, 135n. 1, 222
unintended 27
audiovisual humour 108 Callan, V. J. 20
cultural difference and 112 Cannon, M.
dubbing and humour 109–14 Red Meat 43
idiom and visual components Cantonese 9, 109, 110, 112, 113, 114,
in 112–13 115–18
puns and 113–14 Cantor, J. R. 19
re-creation and 110 caption 35, 40, 41, 42, 73, 214
audiovisual translation 70 see also open caption telop
empirical testing 185, 188 caricature 43, 112, 195, 196
and humour 109–14, 183–5, Carry On films 121
223–4 cartoons
multi-semiotic levels in 179 and caption 35, 40, 41, 42
as problem-solving activity 153 definition of 34–5
retranslation 153 opposition and humour in 40
triggering mechanism 178–82 and panels 34, 35, 37, 38, 43, 44
Azzaro, G. 236n. 3 in print media 35
casual talk 238
Babe 144 Catford, J. C. 187
Bakhtin, M. M. 108 censorship 14, 173, 227, 230
Ball, A. 224 characterization, in Final Fantasy series
Barr, P. 91, 92, 95 design 95–6
Barrett, R. 240 gender and sexuality, references
Bartoll, E. 74 to 96–7
Bassnett, S. 54 idiolects and dialects 96
Becker, W. 9, 124 play-on-words and puns 97
Bennett, A. 116 Charles, L. 116

Index 253
Chen, C. 115, 116 Dietz, F. 89

Chiaro, D. 1, 9, 49, 56, 90, 97, 110, 121, diglossia 108
181, 186, 223, 232, 240, 243 definition of 109
Chrichton, C. 11 subtitling satire for audience
code-mixing 206 of 114–19
code-switching 206 Di Marco, F. 97
coherence 179 Diot, R. 47
colloquialism 115 disparagement 19
comics 8, 34, 37 disposition theory 19
Disney 46 domestication 100, 108, 113, 116
strips and books, humour in 42–4 Dormann, C. 91, 92, 95
translated, humour in 44–8 double entendre humour 29
commercials 141, 231 dubbing see individual entries
commonality 19, 21 Duck Soup 5, 176, 177, 182, 185, 188
co-text 139, 148 Duffey, N. S. 18
Croft, D. 193 Dutch subtitles 212–15
Cronin, M. Dwyer, T. 219n. 8
Translation goes to the Movies 119n. 1
cross-cultural humour 20 Eggins, S. 238, 247
cultural reference 39, 65, 91, 94, 110, El-Arousy, N. A. 37
113, 178, 186, 188 emotional distance 135
covert 9 equivalence 90, 118, 149, 214
new 100 formal 2
obscure 93 functional 179
specific 2, 60, 63, 91 ethnic humour 20–1
verbal humour and 179 euphemism 28
visual and verbal 46 European Audiovisual Observatory 4
culture bumps 115 Everyone Says I Love You 166, 169
culture-specificity 125, 126, 134, 135n. 1 expletives 227
The Curse of the Jade Scorpion 164
Fairclough, N. 239, 247
Da Ali G Show 10 family films 8, 144
Danish 9, 144, 145 Family Guy 186
Davies, C. 11, 20 Far Side cartoons 37, 39, 40
Deconstructing Harry 168 Fawlty Towers 241
Delabastita, D. 1, 3, 11, 90, 141, 142, Ferguson, C. A. 109
150n. 2, 193, 219n. 6, 220n. 13 Final Fantasy 12
Delesse, C. 46 Final Fantasy series, humour in
DePelsmacker, P. 23 characterization 95–7
Deprats, J. M. 219n. 6 idioms and rhymes 102–3
Desperate Housewives 11 irony and 102
diachrony 183 play-on-words 101–2
dialect 96 precedents 93–4
foreign 215 self-referencing 95
local 109, 116, 117–18 significance of 94
national language 109, 116 VEH 98, 99, 100–1
Die Nanny 10 A Fish Called Wanda 11

254 Index
Flaherty, K. 19 Harvey, R. C. 35, 45, 48

foreignization 108 Hausmann, F. J. 150n. 2
formal equivalence 2 Heer, J. 34
Four Weddings and a Funeral 6 Hehl, F. J. 36
French dubbed dialogues 215–18 Heibert, F. 142, 150n. 2, 151n. 6
The Fresh Prince of Bel Air 186 Heller, J. 224
Friends 10 Hermann, M. 6
Fuentes Luque, A. 1, 7, 8, 175, Hill, B. 121
191n. 12, 220n. 14 The History Boys 116, 117
Functional equivalence 179 Hole in the Wall 70
Futurama 186 open caption telop and 78–85
Hollywood 4, 13, 155, 174, 182
gag 60, 62, 64–5, 112, 196 diglossia in 106
Gallois, C. 20 Hollywood ending 159
Gambier, Y. 220n. 14 homogenizing convention 205
Gamespot 91 homonym 180
game studies 89 homophone 168
humour in 90–2 Hong Kong 9
gayness 238–41 see also audiovisual humour
humour on 241–2 Horse Feathers 7, 180, 184
gender 19 House, J. 42, 143
humour based on 21–2 House MD 11
and sexuality, references to 96–7 howlers 154
General Theory of Verbal Humor humour
(GTVH) 1, 36–7, 38, 48–9 Academy Awards Ceremony, at 53,
cartoons, and 35–6 57–8
George and Mildred 10 American 177
German 7, 9, 10, 46, 47, 124, 127, attempted 18–19
128–35 audiovisual 108
accent, English with 200–1 context dependent 29
German Democratic Republic 125, dubbing and 109–14
127, 128, 129, 131, 134 ethnic 20–1
Geuens, M. 23 gender and 21–2
globalization 4, 12, 53, 86, 89, global 22–8
108, 119 image constrained 183–4
Goldberg, L. R. 127 incongruity-resolution 23,36, 46
González, L. 91 intended 18, 24–8, 96
Good Bye Lenin! 9, 124, 125–6 Jewish 21
Gosford Park 9 universal structures 182
Gottlieb, H. 151n. 5, 243 Husbands and Wives 169–70
Grande Cocomero 47 Hytner, N. 116
Grassegger, H. 142
Grutman, R. 220n. 13 idiolects and dialects 96
Gulas, C. S. 1, 13, 17 impact captioning 74
incongruity 15, 23, 40, 43, 111, 117
half-rhymes 146, 147 cartoons and 48
Hardy, T. 116 intrinsic 208

Index 255
linguistic 208 katakana 96

playful 31 Katan, D. 243
and superiority 180–1, 207, 210 Katz, B. 21
surprising 36 Kawabata, M. 75
temporal 186 Kesey, K. 224
value for engagement 91 Kimura, T. A. 73, 76, 78
incongruity-resolution humour 23, Knowledge Resources 36–8, 48
36, 46 Koestler, A. 111
infotainment 75 Köhler, G. 39
interlingual translation 4 Koponen, M. 37, 38, 45, 46
Internazionale 41, 42 Krikmann, A. 38
Internet 4, 13, 14, 19 Kruger, A. 21
Interpreting Kurz, I. 65
media 54–5
simultaneous 53, 55–8, 65–7 language acquisition 141
intralingual subtitles 12, 71 language mechanism 36, 37
and innovation 72 language-play 138
open caption telop (OCT) see open functions and effects of 140–1
caption telop quality of 143–9, 150
telop and subtitles 73 signals 28, 31
irony 49, 54, 60, 102, 141, 154 translation of 141–3
dramatic 196, 210 types of 139–40
gayness and 243–4 see also wordplay
and humour 102–3 language variation 9, 197–8,
205–11
Jakobson, R. 4 Larson, G. 37, 38, 39
Japanese 12, 89, 92, 93, 94, 96, 97, 100, La Tata 10
102, 104 Laurentiis, D. De 60
Japanese TV Lee, H. W. 23, 24
accessibility factor and 70, 71 Leppihalme, R. 110
digital TV 86 Levinson, B. 115
elderly viewers 72, 75 Lim, E. A. C. 23, 24
Jewish humour 21 lingua franca 202
Jewishness 10, 21, 63, 154, 155, 156, linguistic camouflage 203
177, 178 lip synch 145, 150
jokes 2–3, 20, 28, 48, 155, 172, 207, 240 literal translation 186, 187, 189
disaster 13–14 Little Britain 10
English 100 Lloyd, J. 193
Japanese 100 localization 89
sick jokes 13, 14 Logical Mechanism 36, 37, 38
sexual 66, 115 Louvish, S. 182, 190n. 3
-texts 49 Love and Death 158–9, 173
War 7, 25, 118, 162, 181, 195–6, 208 sexual allusion in 161
Juni, S. 21
M&C Saatchi 29, 30
Kaindl, K. 45, 47 Madden, T. J. 21
Kasdan, L. 5 Magical Electronic Brain Power!! 74

256 Index
Mangiron, C. 1, 12, 89, 93 Nilsen, A. 15n. 3

Manhattan Murder Mystery 162–3, 168, Nilsen, D. 15n. 3
170, 171 nonce 3
Man of the Year 115, 117 formations 140
Marx Brothers’ humour 7, 8 pronunciation 142
audiovisual humour transfer, nonsense humour 36, 39
variables in 183–5 Nornes, A. M. 87
censorship and translation in 182–3 Norwegian 147
and films 175–6
linguistic and cultural triggering The Office 10
mechanisms 178–82 O’Hagan, M. 1, 12, 70, 89, 93
McCarey, L. 5 open caption telop (OCT) 73,
McGhee, P. E. 18 74–5, 78
McLeod, N. 7 functionality areas in 77–8
Medhurst, A. 114 function of 75
media, translating humour on 3 and Hole in the Wall 78–85
on big screen 5–9 taxonomy of 76–7
interpreting 54–5
screen translation 4–5 Palmer, J. 118
on small screen 9–12 Paolillo, J. C. 37, 38, 39, 46
metonymy 206 paradox 8, 30–1, 125
Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy 163 Park, J. 74
mimetic function 205–6 parody 126, 156, 195, 196
Ministry of Internal Affairs and paronomasia 232
Communications (MIAC), The Peeping Tom 100
Japan 71, 75 Pelsmaekers, K. 220n. 14
mispronunciation 207, 214 Pepper, T. 145
Mizuno, E. 71, 73 phonetic similarity 188
modified expressions 139–40 phonological assimilation 157–8
Monkey Business 175–6, 187 The Pianist 7
monomodal humour 45 ping-pong punning 14
Monty Python’s Flying Circus 10 Pink Panther 200
multimodal humour 45 play-on-words 97, 98, 100–2
see also wordplay
The Nanny 10 Plessers, V. 201, 219n. 7, 220n. 21
Narrative Strategy 36, 37 Polanski, R. 7
Nash, W. 110 political correctness 240–1, 247
Nazism 132, 133, 170, 196 political incorrectness 12, 241
network censorship 228, 235 polysemy 56, 142
Nevo, O. 20 Popovič, A. 2
Newell, M. 6 proper-name allusions 113, 115
New York 8, 10, 159, 160, 172, 174, 177, psycho-lexical approach 127
178, 179, 188 punch line 43, 44
The New Yorker magazine 35 Punch magazine 35
NHK public broadcasting station 71, 75 puns 112, 166, 179
Nida, E. 2 and audiovisual humour 113–14
A Night at the Opera 176 and characterization 97

Index 257
and dubbing 144–5 self-deprecating humour 17, 18

gayness and 242 self-effacing humor 21
identification of 188 Semantic Script Theory of Humour
in Japanese 98 (SSTH) 36
ping-pong 14 semiotics 37–8, 112, 179, 200, 217
polysemic 143 sex 22, 58, 66, 72, 115, 161–2, 222, 230,
significance of 139 233, 239–40, 247–8
sound-based 207 and gender 96–7
transformation of 244 and stereotypes for target-text
verbal 184, 211 humour 244–6
visual 5, 7, 180, 184 see also sexual allusions
Pynchon, T. 224 Sex and the City 10
sexual allusions 59, 63, 161–2
quality 9, 67 Shameless 11
assessment 143–50 Shiota, E. 73, 75, 77, 78, 79
perception of 60, 65 sick jokes 13, 14
translational 134 Silverman, D. 109
The Simpsons 10, 186
Radio Days 155, 162, 164–5 The Simpsons Movie 109, 110, 114
wordplay in 165–6 simultaneous interpreters 13, 53, 55,
Raskin, V. 56, 57–8, 65, 66, 67
General Theory of Verbal Humor sitcom 121, 186, 239, 241, 243, 245, 247
(GTVH) 1, 36 see also ’Allo ’Allo!; small screen,
Semantic Script Theory of Humour humour on
(SSTH) 36 Six Feet Under 12, 222
re-creation and dubbing 110 story outline 225–6
Republic of Germany (Bundesrepublik swear word reduction 227–30
Deutschland, FRG) 125, 129, 130, 131 verbally expressed humour 232–5
rhymes 140, 142, 146, 167 weakening of potentially disturbing
and idioms 102–3 elements 230–2
role playing game (RPG) 89, 93, 94 skopos 2, 90, 92, 103
Rosas, M. 143 Slade, D. 238, 247
Rossato, L. 1, 9, 121, 124 slips of the tongue 140
Rowe, T. L. 190 Smith, A. N. 60
Ruch, W. 36, 39, 127 social function, of humour 91–2
Rugrats in Paris: The Movie 146 Song of the South 14
source language 37, 40, 57, 66, 94, 142,
Sakamoto, M. 73, 74, 86 143, 223, 235, 245
satire 196 adherence to 222
schemata 239, 246 ambiguity in 1
Schröter, T. 1, 8, 138, 150n. 1, 2, 151n. 6 bilingual crosstalk 3
Schultz, C. M. cartoons in 40
Peanuts 47 comic books and 46
Script Opposition 36, 37, 38 dubbed dialogue and 119, 228, 232
scripts 1, 36, 48, 182, 239, 244, 245, 246 game localization and 104
visual 38, 40 half-rhyme 146–7
Secret Army 195 invariable core 2

258 Index
source language (Cont’d) language-play 142, 147–8, 149, 150

language-play 147–8, 149, 150 preservation and intensification of
negative stereotypes and 247 source language VEH in 98, 100–1
preservation and intensification sex and stereotypes for humour
of VEH, in target language 98, in 244–6
100–1 source language VEH replaced by 6,
rhyme 146 98, 99
subtitles and 119, 226 subversive humour and 113, 119
VEH, replaced by target language 6, wordplay translation and 45, 123
98, 99 tease 238, 247
Spotts, H. E. 30 Television Opaque Projector
stereotypes 110, 133, 196, 240–1 equipment 73
blurred 248 telop
culture-specific 39 comparison with subtitles 73
and irony 243 meaning of 73
negative 247 open caption see open caption telop
sex and, for target-text Three Stooges 21
humour 244–6 Toncar, M. F. 30
traditional 116, 248 Tourism Australia campaign 29
Sternberg, M. 205 transcreators, translators as 104
Stewart-Hunter, D. 21 translation
strips cartoons 39–42
comic, and books 42–4, 46, 47–8, 49 compensatory 186
subtitles see individual entries explanatory translation 186
subtitles for the deaf and hard film title translation 183
of-hearing (SDH) 70, 77 functional 2, 14, 98, 101, 186
background, in Japan 71–2 interlingual translation 4
Suda, Y. 73 literal translation 186, 187, 189
superiority 123, 180–1, 207, 210, 235 quality 8–9
intellectual 28 strategies 6–8, 46, 60, 142, 168, 171,
intrinsic 121 184, 186
swearword 226, 229 video games translation of 92–3
reduction 227–30, 235 wordplay translation and 45, 123
suspension of disbelief 206, 208 translatability 90
Trudeaus, G.
taboo language 183 Doonesbury strips 44
Takekuro, M. 100, 104
Take the Money and Run 173 untranslatability
target language 2, 6, 37, 57 of cartoons 39
ambiguity in 1, 3 wordplay and 141
cartoons in 40 Upstairs, Downstairs 219n. 2
cultural knowledge and 112 US National Film Registry 190n. 2
dubbed and subtitled versions in 226
half-rhyme 146 V&S Vin & Spirit AB 24
idioms and rhymes in 103 Valdeón, R. A. 1, 12, 220n. 14, 238
irony in 102 Van Besien, F. 220n. 14

Index 259
Vandaele, J. 90, 180, 182, 183 Wagg, S. 15n. 3

vehicular matching 205 Wai-Ping, Y. 1, 9, 108
verbally expressed humour war jokes 7, 25, 118, 162, 181, 195–6, 208
(VEH) 5, 12 Weinberger, M. G. 1, 13, 17, 21, 30
verbal puns 184 Whitman-Linsen, C. 180
see also visual puns Will and Grace 12, 238
Vermeer, H. 2 gayness in 239–42
Viaggio, S. 55 heterosexuality in 245–6
Victory Garden 162 homosexual affection in 238–41,
video games 12, 89 243, 245–6
Final Fantasy series see Final Fantasy irony in 243–4
series, humour in sexual orientation and negative
functions of humour in 91–2 attributes in 245
translation of 92–3 stereotypes in 240–1, 244–6
violence 118, 144 Worcester, K. 34
visual and verbal scripts, opposition wordplay 8, 28, 37, 141, 165–8, 211
between 40 bilingual 11–12, 206
visual pun 5, 7, 180, 184 comics and 45–6
visuals 29, 30, 35 Knowledge Resources and 36–8
codes 7, 114 in Six Feet Under 233–4
of culture specificity, responses translation of 11–12, 45, 62, 142
to 129–30 untranslatability and 141
effects 77 see also language-play; puns
pun 5, 7, 8, 113, 180, 184, 191n. 8
resources 8, 49 You Rang M’Lord? 219n. 2
script 38, 40
and verbal humour, link Zabalbeascoa, P. 1, 8, 49, 90, 153,
between 180 220n. 14
see also cartoons Zanettin, F. 1, 8, 34
Vonnegut, K. 224 Zillmann, D. 19

Translation, Humour and The Media Translation and Humour Volume 2 (Continuum Advances in Translation) (Chiaro, Delia Antonini, Rachele Bucaria Etc.) (Z-Library)

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Translation, Humour and the Media

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd i 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

Continuum Advances in Translation Studies publishes cutting-edge research

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd ii 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd iii 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

© Delia Chiaro and contributors 2010

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

ISBN: 978-1-4411-3788-3 (hardcover)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Typeset by Newgen Imaging Systems Pvt Ltd, Chennai, India

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd iv 8/17/2010 5:14:38 PM

List of Illustrations vii

Translating Humour in the Media 1

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10. On the (Mis/Over/Under)Translation of the Marx

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Figure 1.1 Absolut ad, Teran/TBWA, Mexico City 2008 25

Table 3.1 Most appreciated clips 61

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Table 4.1 Taxonomy of Open Caption Telop used to enhance

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd viii 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd ix 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

Delia Chiaro is Professor of English Language and Translation at the

Rachele Antonini is a lecturer in English Language and Translation at the

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd xi 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

Chiara Bucaria graduated in translation from the Advanced School of

Dirk Delabastita is professor of English literature and literary theory at

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Dirk Delabastita also co-authored a Dutch-language dictionary of literary

Adrián Fuentes Luque is Senior Lecturer at the Universidad Pablo Olavide

Charles S. Gulas is an associate professor of marketing at Wright State

Carmen Mangiron is a lecturer in Spanish, Japanese and Translation

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research interests include literary translation, game localization and media

Minako O’Hagan, Ph.D., is a Senior Lecturer at Dublin City University,

Linda Rossato was awarded a Master’s degree in Screen Translation from

Thorsten Schröter was born in Germany and moved to Sweden in his

Roberto A. Valdeón was awarded a Master’s degree in English Literature

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd xiv 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

Press. He has published around fifty articles on EFL and translation,

Yau Wai-Ping teaches translation at Hong Kong Baptist University. He

Marc G. Weinberger is professor of marketing at the University of Mas-

Patrick Zabalbeascoa is a Principal Lecturer in Translation Studies at the

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd xv 8/17/2010 5:14:39 PM

‘mapping’ translation solutions through a system of binary branching,

Federico Zanettin is Associate Professor of English Language and Translation

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I am greatly indebted to those scholars who reviewed the individual

DChiaro_Prelims_Final.indd xvii 8/17/2010 5:14:40 PM

While being quite independent from its preceding companion volume,

1. Translating Verbal Humour

In whatever form verbally expressed humour (Ritchie 2004) is couched, its

DChiaro_Intro_Final.indd 1 8/17/2010 5:18:49 PM

finding solutions to culture-specific references pertaining to the culture of

As discussed by Chiaro (see especially 2005, 2008a and Volume 1) the

(1a) Perché i francesi mangiano l’uovo a colazione?

By taking the source joke’s ‘invariable core’ (i.e. an essential element of

DChiaro_Intro_Final.indd 2 8/17/2010 5:18:50 PM

(1b) Un italiano e un francese stanno camminando per le strade di una città

This translation retains the bilingual crosstalk of the source joke by

(1c) Cosa mangiano i francesi a colazione?

In this case, the expression patema d’animo (anguish) is deconstructed

2. Translating Humour on Screen