On Subtitles

The weird thing is, normally I’m a subtitle kind of gal. I don’t like listening to TV at high volumes. And some shows, like The Wire, just make a whole lot more sense when I can see names spelled out or hear what mumblers are saying in the background.

In fact, I’ve never understood those who say subtitles ruin a movie for them, because I love to read. Which means I can read fast. Which means I can process subtitles faster than I can process the spoken dialogue. And text is a direct line to my memory and my thoughts: write things down, and I’ll notice and remember them. About the only way I figured subtitles could be distracting was if they were incorrectly transcribed or translated.

But I’m finding that subtitles can be done poorly without either of these faults.

Sadly, this discovery comes from watching something I really love: The Good Wife season 3.*  Although I actually prefer having subtitles onscreen for the reasons above, I was disappointed to notice that the way this DVD set did it lessened the overall viewing experience.

Specifically, I noticed three problems: timing, connotation, and placement.

The last is probably the most obvious. The opening credits of The Good Wife appear at the bottom of the screen. Subtitles normally appear at the bottom of the screen. But during the credits, the subtitles appeared at the top of the screen, over the performers’ faces, obscuring their expressions. I realize it probably couldn’t have been helped — that there may be some regulation that prevents producers from hiding the credits. But it was still annoying.

On the other hand, it’s hard to believe that nothing could have been done about the problem of timing. To be fair, the fact that this problem existed is testament to the superb writing and acting on The Good Wife. All the artists involved are brilliant at taking a line that starts to mean one thing and making it shine by twisting it into something else. But sometimes the subtitles include the “spoiler” end of the line on the same screen with the beginning, ruining the surprise.

What do I mean? Well, consider the made-up line “I guess we’ll have to tell him ‘no.'” The Good Wife might play that line as “I guess we’ll have to…” (delivery and pause conveying that the speaker is deliberating on the topic and considering “having to” do what “he” asks) “… tell him ‘no.'” The line as delivered is effective because the change in tone suggests the character’s mental journey. A subtitle of “I guess we’ll have to tell him no.” not only telegraphs the change at the end of the line for viewers who use subtitles to supplement their hearing but hides the character’s emotional journey for viewers who use subtitles to solve or mitigate hearing difficulties. Which is totally not fair or accessible.

Again, maybe this is a more difficult problem than I’m allowing: maybe the conventional wisdom of subtitling is not to split up sentences because viewers don’t like that. Even so, better punctuation could at least help with this problem. Apart from indicating which phrases go with which other phrases, punctuation also sets the tempo for readers to consume a sentence. A comma can mean a short breath; a full stop or colon means a longer one. Ellipses can convey a pause for effect, humorous or otherwise.

But the subtitles faux pas that distracted me the most was the choice of words with curious connotations: the dreaded “heh.”

Okay, let me back up. Most subtitles need a way to translate the non-verbal noises people make. When they’re common noises that we give a name, it’s relatively easy: [laughter] [giggles] [sobs] Sometimes these words give an impression that contrasts with the sound the performer makes onscreen, but more often then not, the viewer can at least agree that he or she “gets the idea.”

And then there are the vocalizations that are harder to define: Um. Er. Huh. Eh? Ha. Phew! Anyone who’s studied another language in depth knows that onomatopeic sounds are often defined differently depending on the background of the listener. Just take a look at the different sounds animals make depending on your mother tongue. As Agent Scully would say, sure. Fine. Whatever.

But those interjections have connotations too. And, well… “heh”? For everything?

“Heh” makes Diane’s classy laughter sound like Peter Griffin. It makes Alicia’s disbelieving “…huh” sound like… OK, also like Peter Griffin. It makes everyone sound like Peter Griffin. Will’s frustrated exhalation. Grace’s shy chuckle. The only character who sometimes does make the “heh” sound is Cary, and that’s because in some ways, he actually is supposed to be as sleazy as Peter Griffin.

I guess, more than anything, these three problems are an eye-opener about writing dialogue. Many writers are good about catching the connotations of real English words and shaping them to suit their needs — you do that with prose, too. But punctuation and onomatopeic sounds can play a big part in how dialogue “reads.” You can use them to imply timing, tone of voice, and emotional state. (Or state of being or not-being Peter Griffin.) And you’ve got to pay attention to these things if you want dialogue to look on the page the way it sounds in your head.

* Yes, that means another gushing blog entry soon. Ha ha ha! Suckers! You can thank my awesome Good Wife buddies JB and Natalie for helping out by mainlining the show with me :)