Wales Shark 001

First episode of my vlog series Wales Shark.  It aims to teach a bit of Welsh amusingly.





Hope you enjoy.

Linguistic Musings

It has occurred to me recently that I am not really giving enough exercise to the super-duper specialist skills I developed during my time in University. This is particularly surprising due to my own pedantry on the subject, which is: words.

Clearly I am aware that I have used words in previous entries, and I believe that if I chose to communicate through a more pictographic medium my blog would become significantly less understandable. Of course, having a blog made completely of pictures would, at least, keep trifling ‘Anonymous’-types away, although, arguably, pretty colours may attract more of them.

I have, therefore, decided to outline some of my more recent explorations into lexical nit-picking.

I live in an area that is largely populated by a certain type of person, namely ‘fighters’, or to allot them a title which sounds less dignified ‘people who want a fight’. I don’t really have a problem with people involved in either boxing or ultimate fighting which, while I do think it is stupid, at least takes place between people who are both willing, nay eager, to do injury to one another. My problem lies with people who want a fight. In an environment not cordoned off specifically, even a ramshackle arrangement by two willing individuals is highly likely to encroach upon bystanders, either dragging in further participants, or causing annoyance to the disinterested. This is a pastime enjoyed by absolute bell-ends, and I am also aware of the needless provocation of labelling people in this way. Essentially if you are offended by the last sentence I imagine you’ll want a fight, which is not going to happen.

I will never ever be in a ‘fight’. Should such an occasion arise, I will almost certainly be ‘attacked’, and should I have need to ‘defend myself’, I would still protest vehemently at the resulting fracas being described as a ‘fight’. I am just finicky about distinctions that way, though that will be of little consequence to my bloodied face.

Having made myself a target for aggressive drunkards, I feel I should probably lighten the tone a bit, which I will attempt to do with a short anecdote set in a Bureau de change.

I was in one such establishment, changing British pounds into Canadian dollars, though that is extraneous information, when a woman standing nearby was asked to give her name in order to complete a transaction. Upon readying herself, she declared herself as: Mrs. B. Strange. I was caught short for a moment as I pondered whether this was a joke on her part. It wasn’t. I think if I had such a name, I would give it in full to avoid giggling. I am glad that she is not such a person however, as it caused me a small amount of glee in what was an otherwise glum and rainy day.

Alternatively, if I were the owner/operator of such a name, I would play heavily on the eccentricity, and introduce myself at parties with:

“Yes, I’m Strange, my husband’s Strange, his parents were Strange, and of course, our children are Strange. Apart from my daughter, she married into an Odd family. You should meet her husband, Jonathan Odd, he is very strange.”

I just wish she was an old fashioned news anchor and could finish all her news broadcasts with:

“And remember, be strange.”

I can only hope that her name is Beatrice or Beatrix so that her eventually tedious pun of a name is unavoidable. It is also possible that her husband purposefully only dated people called Beatrice in order to assure the pun would come to pass. If so, he is my hero.

I have recently been noting the practical naming of protective clothing. A fire retardant outfit will protect you from fire, a bulletproof vest protects you from bullets, and a space suit protects you from space. Similarly, fluorescent clothing can protect you from the flu, which is an important thing to bear in mind in the current climate (please note; bearing this in mind will not protect you from bears).

In more serious, yes similarly tedious, observations, I have been taking perverse pleasure in tut-tutting English-Welsh translations. Signs often fail to be accurate, even when they do avoid the mesmerising huff-ups found in Swansea. I find amusement in huge mistakes, immense interest in slightly differing translations.

A sign on a train going into Cardiff reads in English: “Smile! You’re on camera.” It’s Welsh counterpart declares: “Gwenwch! Mae camera yn eich gwylio”. Translated into English, the Welsh phrase literally reads: “Smile! A camera is watching you”. It would be impossible to translate the ‘on camera’ phrase into Welsh directly, as it is an idiom that is not present in the language, and would sound clunky and unnatural, however, the actual Welsh translation is incredibly sinister. The English phrase manages to extract all responsibility from the situation – it is no one’s responsibility that you are on camera, you just are. In the Welsh sign, the camera is personified, and given an eerie sentience, as though your actions on the train are being mechanically followed by a recording gargoyle on a dark purpose.

This cross-language gap is also present in other phrases. In English, the term ‘scarecrow’ is completely functional, what does a scarecrow do? It scares crows. Dissimilarly, the Welsh term for the scarecrow is ‘bwgan brain’. ‘Bwgan’ is a childish term, probably comparable to the English, ‘ghoulie’ or ‘ghostie’, whilst ‘brain’ (which isn’t pronounced like that) means ‘crows’. So essentially it means ‘Crow Monster’. Crow monster, what does it do? Not really sure, I imagine it creeps around at night and kidnaps your children. Welsh is a sinister language.

Despite its flexibility, and vast incorporation of words from other languages, English can, at times, be incredibly unimaginative and uncreative in its implementation. One example of this becomes apparent in contrast to the Welsh term ‘cyfansoddair’. This term is made up on two words: ‘cyfansodd’ (compound) and ‘gair’ (word), which means that not only does the term stand for the creation of one word out of many, it is an example of it. In contrast, English takes the words ‘compound’ and ‘word’ and creates the phrase ‘compound word’. How very boring Mr English Language, I think I will be cancelling my subscription to your magazine.

Although that will render the years I spent studying English Language fair redundant.

Harrumph.

Ghibli with Excitement

The media often cocks up royally, other times it is merely my pedantry that fuels my frustration with it.

There is a piece in the Guardian today discussing how Hayao Miyazaki, and Studio Ghibli more generally, haven’t been able to achieve the same gargantuan successes they have had all over the world, in America. This comes with the impending American release of Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea, Ghibli’s newest offering. The statistics they provide suggest that the films of Ghibli still make millions of dollars in cinema revenue, but in the bloated and obscene industry of blockbuster films, making millions is laughable. A film has to break the hundreds of millions for anyone to be in the least interested, and Ghibli do this regularly, if the article is correct, in Japan and Europe, just not in America.

Now part of the reason that Japanese anime in general might not make so much money in America is because of the underground masses of fansubbers that exist, meaning that the vast millions upon millions of fans of anime in the English speaking world will have seen the film well before its release. The attractiveness of this setup is that you would get to experience the film, free (though illegally, remember) with the original Japanese cast, with subtitles provided lovingly, and therefore more reliably, by fans, rather than by paid subbers who, if history is any judge, either make hideous mistakes and / or just don’t give a shit. One such example is the All Your Base phenomenon which was one of the very first internet memes, ah, I remember you fondly. Similarly, though a number of commendable studios are making a stand against this, dubs have a habit of being phlegm-inducingly awful. I recently watched a series where, in the Japanese version, a character had a high, childish voice, and in the American version, the same character’s speech was throaty and grizzled. Overlooking the fact that the American acting was also awful, that is casting at its very worst, either incompetent or completely uncaring. Having said that, with the successes of Disney / Pixar and animated medium as a whole, “proper” actors are more likely to take on voice roles, though America has its share of good voice actors, my personal favourites being Joe DiMaggio (Bender, Marcus Fenix, Wakka) and Vic Mignogna (Edward Elric, Tamaki Suou, Madarame Ikkaku). This is probably where I reveal that I have met Vic Mignogna, who is a lovely man.

For some insane reason certain American studios feel it necessary to cut and re-edit entire films, and in so doing, turn them into so much arse water. One example of this is Casshan, edited by an American studio from a four part OVA into a feature length film, which necessitated an upheaval of 1) the order of scenes, 2) the pacing of the entire piece and 3) the fucking story. I was relieved to find that the original 4 episodes are on the DVD in their original form, as the American version, roughly 2 minutes in, after attempting to build up tension and intrigue as to the whereabouts of the titular Casshan, had him reveal himself with the intelligence insulting line “I AM CASSHAN!”

Miyazaki received the same treatment when he brought early titles to America, notably Nausicaa Valley of the Wind, which in its original form is a sci-fi masterpiece. It was felt that it was ruined when an American studio fucked around with it and released it to the American public, and further English speaking world, as See, Isn’t That Better Now We’ve Rubbed Our Dicks on the Work of a Genius? Luckily, the original Nausicaa was properly released years later, in 2005. People learnt to stop fucking with Ghibli films after an American editor / burke suggested editing Princess Mononoke to make it more marketable for an American audience. Miyazaki sent a katana to the studio with a written message on it saying “No cuts”. And that is why Hayao Miyazaki is a million times more hardcore than Quentin Tarantino. A proper katana. But that is to be expected from a man whose name sounds like something you would shout as you slashed someone. Hayao!

Now I am not an American, but as a British individual whose first language is English, I feel I am lumped in when editors feel they have to tone down something to make it more marketable. I am insulted by this, as though the editors are saying “Look, the Japanese right, they are fucking mad as a million Mad Hatters, and clever to boot. We’re going to tone down this film so you are able to understand it, because you are well stupid aren’t you? Yes you are! Yes you are!” In reality, the editors themselves simply don’t understand it. Which perhaps is understandable, they aren’t artists, they aren’t working closely to the individuals who originally imagined the piece, it would be difficult to tap into the same creative spring. However, this doesn’t give them the right to arse around with it and make it a billion times worse.

You shouldn’t get an editor saying “Hay, those cubes are cool as fuck, but look here Picasso, it just isn’t marketable”.

I don’t think you should dumb things down for an audience, it just breeds laziness and stupidity. As comedian Stewart Lee said: “The jokes are in there, some of you are just going to have to raise your game”. To give an inappropriately hubristic exemplum; I performed at an open mic night yesterday, and when I got off an old man congratulated me, but told me that my material was “almost too clever”. While it is lovely to have your ego stroked by an old man (and only my ego, please), I don’t want to feel as though the British public are unable to keep up with my jokes. They really aren’t that clever. And neither are my jokes! (hur hur hur).

The piece in the Guardian says that Ghibli have recruited big names to voice act in the English version of the film, in order to widen the appeal. It certainly is true, and a good thing, with people like Liam Neeson acting in it, though I imagine I will have to grit my teeth through the yelpings of a knock-off Jonas and Miley Cyrus’ brother. But the article makes it sound as though this is a new strategy, where, in reality, Ghibli have been able to attract top class acting for ages, with the re-release of Nausicaa starring Patrick Stewart, Uma Thurman, Shia LeBeouf and Luke Skywalker.

In the comment section of the Guardian piece there are a number of people who share my views, with some people suggesting also that they look forward to seeing it in cinema. I doubt it will make it to screens here in Wales, though if I am wrong, I will be there.

My main gripe with the entire importing process is the underlying belief that because it is from Japan it is kooky and mad and we won’t understand. This is highlighted by people who believe that Japan is a crazy place, and everyone there is a mental. It is short-sightedness on the part of individuals who believe this, the only part of Japanese culture the English speaking world are shown is the “panties-in-a-vending-machine” and “crazy gameshow” side of things, overlooking the fact that those things are likely viewed as mad over there. I am not arguing that there are not differences between English language cultures and the Japanese, just that the differences are played upon hugely and as such they are exaggerated. It is the same with any culture that we have limited knowledge, and therefore understanding, of. Everyone in Russia wears a big furry hat and does Cossack dances while chugging on vodka, everyone in France wanders around in a stripy black and white top and a beret smoking wistfully, and everyone in Africa is starving. This we know, because they are stereotypes, and it is easier to believe them than view people as human beings. You never know when you might have to go to war with them after all, and it is far easier to kill stereotypes than human beings, as any propaganda machine won’t tell you.

To refer back to the main topic of the Guardian piece, and provide a structural end point for what has been a messy and rambling entry: I look forward to seeing Ponyo by the Cliff by the Sea. Ghibli have been responsible for some amazing stories over the years, told beautifully. I am not an overly emotional viewer, but the ending of Only Yesterday had me struggling to breathe, as I had forgotten how my face and throat worked in my attempts to not cry.

Here’s an additional piece of blog trivia for you as an extra as well: it was the Ghibli film Whisper of the Heart that made me start taking writing far more seriously. Lucky you, eh?