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On the preservation of subtitles in talking documentaries By Jean Painlevé |
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We might wonder why, when we have the capacity for talking pictures at our disposition, and indeed in use, subtitles should be preserved…
As the only director to continue to use them in documentaries, I should like to justify my decision. Note first of all that two of the greatest dramatic talking films, “L’Age d’Or” and “All Quiet on the Western Front”, have subtitles. Although in the latter this is by arrangement, in the former, it’s by the director’s own design. The result, in any case, is very important, and it seems to me even clearer (perhaps because I am an opponent of current talking film and all the anti-cinematographic horrors it leads to) that the preservation of subtitles is essential, both intellectually and for publicity.
This is especially true given that, for me, speech is only justified when it is essential to the film, and not when it provides a commentary on the film: when it is used, it should pertain to the image in the most natural way possible, such that it is not noticed – or indeed give a contrasting effect and create the unexpected. At any rate, it should be integrated into the film to such a point that it is indispensable to the dramatic component of the action, but not to its understanding. We thus come back to the only established fact in cinema “a good film follows from itself”. All those who have kept harping on with their argument - “Talking pictures will kill subtitles, just as subtitles killed silent films” - have been outrageous.
But let’s come back to the documentary; first, I lay down a principle on which there can no longer be any argument: speech helps us to understand, reading helps us to learn – or retain for a short while. (Do we not repeat often enough, in all teaching situations, that students should read the subject before hearing an oral exposition of it by the teacher? And do we see students preparing for their exams by “listening” alone?) Naturally, I am leaving to one side the role of writing, which is excellent for assimilation.
So the spoken word is there solely to explain and emphasise what reading will have fixed in the brain; as for assimilation, this is facilitated by hearing, but only really and properly resides in reading and writing.
In documentaries, subtitles are a pause, a break – because whatever one might say, nothing is more incompatible to my senses than a picture to be interpreted and speech to be heard, both at once; this can resolved by retaining the pictures on screen after the words, but the element of surprise in drawing on two senses at the same time is slow to fade. Subtitles enable the brain to sort things out, and allow us to use only a few words instead of a whole speech, words which can simply support the poetic element which any documentary must have.
On the other hand, subtitles eliminate abrupt jump cuts, not only between shots (which can be avoided by fade-in-fade-outs, a technique which is far from elegant and quickly becomes irritating), but also between topics.
I have thus tried to avoid the flaws which I criticise in other talking documentaries – for example, in the following two excellent ones: the one on the egg (by the UFA), whose perfect plot construction made a potentially off-putting subject generally accessible, and which showed jump cuts between shots through the absence of subtitles; the other on the pea, (Victoria-Films) which is so replete with fine shots than we can no longer analyse anything, the background music and the voice-over, both perfect in themselves, lead us to feel that we are watching three films in one.
Subtitles: a necessary oasis. Jean Painlevé
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