Back in the stateside heyday of Hong Kong action flicks, folks I know used to quote this particularly tin-earred subtitle constantly. [It comes from the one about lesbian fighters--Holy Weapon maybe--and the scene itself takes place in a dark kitchen, I think.] The cinetrix shares this charming phrase and its backstory as a roundabout way of saying goddamn do I covet this new book: Cinema Babel: Translating Global Cinema. What a genius idea. Here's the synopsis on the publisher's page:
Uncovering the vital role of interpreters, dubbers, and subtitlers in the global traffic of film.
The original foreign film—its sights and sounds—is available to all, but the viewer is utterly dependent on a translator and an untold number of technicians who produce the graphic text or disconnected speech through which we must approach the foreign film. A bad translation can ruin a film’s beauty, muddy its plot, and turn any joke sour.
In this wide-ranging work, Abé Mark Nornes examines the relationships between moving-image media and translation and contends that film was a globalized medium from its beginning and that its transnational traffic has been greatly influenced by interpreters. He discusses the translation of film theory, interpretation at festivals and for coproductions, silent era practice, “talkies,” subtitling, and dubbing.