发布时间：2016-10-24 09:27浏览数：1398评论数：0 收藏
 冯佳、王克非、刘霞. 2014. 近二十年国际翻译学研究动态的科学知识图谱分析. 外语电化教学（1）.
麻争旗 教授 专家简介
Cultural Theme Reconstruction
The translation of movies and TV dramas can make a study of rhetoric reconstruction, that is, the reconstruction of texts loyal to the life-style of dialogues, faithful to the uniqueness of speaking for each character and true to the cultural theme of the story.
Experience often reminds us that the translation of a certain dialogue may sound completely loyal to the original but it might have gone far off the keynote of the whole story. This is because dialogues in a movie are usually broken pieces rather than continuous texts as written in a novel. Of course the meaning of a dialogue is certain, but it is only true as long as it stands alone as an independent unit. In fact, movie dialogues are not as broken up as they might seem. They are broken in terms of structure but re-assembled by the central theme of the movie.
By “central theme”, here is meant the central idea, or what the story is all about. People often use cultural terms to describe a central theme, for example, “love” may be the word for “Titanic (1997)”, “sportsmanship” for “Million Dollar Baby (2004)”,“patriotism” for “An American Carol (2008)”，“individual heroism”for “Argo 2012”, and these terms may be just the central themes in our discussion.
Now what a movie translator should do before starting the job is to identify the central cultural theme in order to make up a cultural strategy for good translation while keeping it in mind as a guideline for later work. But sometimes translators (especially beginners) may miss the point because they are usually dealing with specific words or sentences or at most taking each “independent” dialogue (an act, as I call it in classroom teaching) as a unit of meaning. According to my teaching experience, students may understand each act perfectly but fail to maintain the tone of the keynote of the story.
A solution to this problem is to take separate dialogues as one full text while regarding each individual text (act or dialogue) as a “sub-text”, and to integrate the tone of each “sub-text” with that of the full-text. Functional equivalence in translation here means not only equivalence in the sense of words and sentences, but also in the sense of sub-texts and the full text as a whole. That might well explain what Eugene Nida means by “dynamic equivalence”.
According to text linguistics, the meaning of a text is produced by text-structural relations. The word “cohere” means “hold together” and coherence in writing implies logic, sequence, consistence, uniformity, etc. Richard’s Longman Dictionary of Applied Linguistics defines coherence as “the relationships which link the meaning of utterances in a discourse or of the sentence in a text”. So we see that coherence is a key factor that enables a movie translator to grasp either the meaning of a specific dialogue as a sub-text or the central theme of the whole story of the movie as a big-text.
Thus the translation process is often one of reconstructing textual relations or, in a sense, one of reconstructing coherence. Here the term “coherence” may apply to the specific cohesive devices used in a sub-text, and it may also mean the central idea that “holds together” all the sub-texts, which is often the same as the cultural theme of the movie (for example, political culture, business culture, sports culture, etc.).
（节选自Cultural Issues in the Translation of English Films and TV Drama, China Intercultural Communication Annual Volume I (中国跨文化传播研究年刊.第一辑), 主编姜飞. 北京：中国社会科学出版社，2015年11月.）
金海娜 副教授 专家简介
早在1927年出版的《中华影业年鉴》（China Cinema Year Book 1927）记载了经过我国电影公司主动进行英文翻译的国产电影就多达97部。（程树仁，1927）早期电影公司大规模翻译国产电影的活动一直持续到20世纪30年代初期，可谓是早期中国电影发展的一个显著特征。早期中国电影的译者主要是生活在上海的外籍人士和精通英语的本国人士，使得我国早期电影外译可以达到较高的翻译水平。
Linda Jaivin 专家简介
Subtitling is the least glamorous job in one of the world’s most glamorous professions. The subtitler is never the star – there are no Oscars (or for that matter, Golden Roosters) for best subtitling, no moment on the red carpet for the subtitler. Yes, there is a credit. But in the history of the world, the only person who has ever stayed in the cinema long enough to see it come up on the screen is the subtitler’s mother. And yet this is a job I have done, working with Chinese language films, on and off for almost thirty years. It is a job I love. It combines my interest in Chinese popular culture with my fascination for language, my own as well as Chinese. Every new film presents a new challenge, and each subtitling job is a fresh exercise in creative thinking.
All literary translation is a form of creative writing, which is why so many writers are drawn to the practice. The list of writer-translators is long and includes the 19th century poet Baudelaire, who translated Edgar Allan Poe into French; the Argentinian novelist and essayist Jorge Luis Borges, who translated works from English, German, French, Old English and Old Norse into Spanish; and the Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami, who has translated works by Raymond Carver, J.D. Salinger and F. Scott Fitzgerald (such as The Great Gatsby) into Japanese.
Few writers, sadly, do film subtitles, for the best subtitles of any film I’ve seen were those done by the English writer Anthony Burgess for the 1990 French film Cyrano de Bergerac, the original language rendered masterfully into an organic mix of rhyming couplets and free verse. Most subtitles, fortunately, don’t have to be translated into verse. But they do draw on the same skills, ear for spoken language and linguistic intuition that inform the novelist, particularly in the writing of dialogue.
Not every writer could be a subtitler: Faulkner and Joyce would not do well at all; Hemingway, on the other hand, would have been a natural. If brevity is the soul of wit, it is the soul and body of subtitling. Concise, precise expression is a challenge in any language, but especially, I suspect, when translating from Chinese, which at its best is supremely economical in expression: try rendering a seven-syllable line from the Peking Opera, full of cultural nuance and allusion, poetry and rhythm, into a reasonably similar short form in English. It’s a bit like sailing a hot air balloon: you have to throw away enough ballast so that it can fly, but not so much that the balloon is never seen again.
I treat it like a game. The French/English/Italian subtitler Henri Behar once wrote that subtitling is akin to ‘playing 3-D Scrabble in two languages’. It’s also a bit like a Rubik’s Cube: one twist and you’ve got the meaning and cultural references in line, but the particular voice and emotion have disappeared, another twist and you’ve got the meaning and emotion, but the cultural references have disappeared. You just have to keep twisting and twisting until everything is in one line – and then you see the line is way too long… and you start twisting again.
There’s no point in presenting the viewer with a lines of over 42 or 43 格 (letters, spaces and punctuation = one 格), because in most cases they simply won’t have enough time to take it all in. I try to keep my subtitles at 30-odd 格max, and often less, if the dialogue is spoken quickly and must fly past on the screen. Sometimes, that means the subtitle can do little more than convey essential meaning. It’s a pity, but it would be far worse were the viewer never to have the chance to look up, or worse, fall behind and give up in frustration. The best subtitle is often the simplest; a subtitle that calls attention to its own virtuosity is rarely a good subtitle.
What is lost in the translation, after all, is found on screen, on the characters’ faces, in the emotional pitch of their voices, in the multitude of other aural and visual cues. If an audience can