Cinenews Archives

Is It Worth Dubbing Films into Ukrainian?

By Yuri Shevchuk for Telekrytyka

February 1, 2006.

Translated from the Ukrainian by Marta D. Olynyk

The January 2006 decision of the Ukrainian Government to affect a gradual transition to dubbing foreign-made films into the Ukrainian language touched off a stormy debate in the media. The loudest to protest it were the vested interests, subsidiaries of the Russian film distribution monopoly, who like to call themselves Ukrainian or national distributors. Up until today they have run their own show in Ukraine with acquiescence of the government, making sure that no Ukrainian-made film was screened in Ukraine, and the entire film distribution was a tool of continuing Russification, uncontrolled, unchecked, and typically brazen. As a result of this hard-to-believe anomaly, millions of Ukrainians have been deprived of the opportuity to see Ukrainian films in their nation’s theaters. A New Yorker  could see Ukrainian films at the Ukrainian Film Club of Columbia University, a citizen of Kyiv had nowhere to go. Yuri Shevchuk, the founder and director of the Ukrainian Film Club of Columbia University wrote his analysis of the situation with the foreign film dubiing  for the leading Ukrainian media web publication Telekrytyka. Below is the English translation of his article done by Ms. Marta Olynyk.

There is a new scandal brewing in Ukraine: they’re destroying Ukrainian films. In the fifteenth year of independence Yekhanurov’s government has approved a plan to convert the dubbing of films produced overseas from Russian to Ukrainian. Twenty percent of the total number of films will be dubbed into Ukrainian by September 2006, 50 percent by January 2007, and 70 percent by July 2007. Why 70 percent and not 100 percent? Because, according to the statistics, this is the proportion of Ukraine’s population, which has declared itself Ukrainian. Thus, in addition to satisfying the cultural needs of Ukrainian-speaking citizens in their own state—which until now have been stubbornly ignored—this decision is supposed to ignite healthy market competition between Ukrainian-language and Russian-language films and, finally, to put an end to the linguistic violence being inflicted on most of the citizens of Ukraine. But all this depends on whether the decision remains on paper, which is often the case.

However, it appears that all these potentially optimistic developments are not to the liking of those who are loudly protesting against the government’s “arbitrariness.” It turns out that there are more critics of the plan than supporters. This is no surprise, as Ukrainian film distributors obviously have a lot to lose:  for starters, the government may actually begin implementing its own decision, and then the Ministry of Culture will stop issuing licenses to distribute Russian-language films.

Before I begin examining the objections of critics who oppose the plan to dub films into Ukrainian, I must make one thing perfectly clear: at present Ukraine does not have its own film distribution system. No matter what film distribution offices may call themselves, all of them are, according to the logic of their business activity, branches of the Russian film distribution monopoly. Until now the logic of their activity was such that Ukrainian films were not permitted on the screens of Ukraine and are not permitted to this very day. If I am wrong about this, maybe someone will write and tell me: where and when a widely distributed Ukrainian film was screened for at least two or three weeks, instead of the usual one-time special screening? Just subject James Cameron’s film Titanic to these conditions and I guarantee you that it would not make more at the box office than the unfortunate Prayer for Hetman Mazepa, which the implacable friends of Ukrainian films always trot out with great satisfaction to bolster their thesis that Ukrainian films are not profitable.

The so-called “Ukrainian,” or rather “national,” film distributors (but from which nation? Nobody knows) have nothing whatsoever to do with Ukrainian cinematography, culture, and the Ukrainian state project. To them all this is just empty words and annoying chatter, which is preventing them from making money. These “national” film distributors use Russian-made copies of foreign films that are dubbed into the Russian language, thereby saving themselves a lot of money. They pay Russian companies for the right to screen these films, and the rest, as they say, is just demand and supply — the harsh logic of capitalism in the age of primary accumulation of capital. Too bad, they also say, that the other corollary of this situation is continuing Russification—of language, culture, and mentality — our one and only priority is to make money. This kind of film distribution scheme is “cinematographic gas”: films for nothing. Only a fool would refuse such a gift, or a cunning nationalist. In Moscow they pay for dubbing with money, and in Kyiv — with crippled human souls. And since souls do not have a monetary equivalent, the film distributors/protestants and their sympathizers don’t even talk about them.

There is nothing strange about this type of behavior. It fits in wonderfully with the theory of rational choice, which every self-taught political scientist knows. It states that every social actor maximizes his own convenience to the degree that circumstances allow it. Russian film distribution has long reigned supreme in Ukraine, as brazenly as though it were in its own backyard. Now circumstances are showing a tendency to change in favor of limiting these entrepreneurs’ freedom of activity. The backyard is rebelling. I don’t know about anyone else, but it is difficult for me to sympathize or even support the activity of such a “Ukrainian” film distribution system. When you read the wails and protests, you ask yourself: to whom are these people appealing for support and sympathy? Surely not to those whom they have been robbing for decades in broad daylight, putting on a nice face while playing a very dirty game? Or maybe to simpletons, who are supposed to swallow their inane fabrications about the government’s forced Ukrainization, violence, and undemocratic behavior? The “national” film distributors themselves are aware of the moral flimsiness of their situation in Ukraine; that is why there is such nervousness bordering on hysteria.

In the world’s markets films are adapted to the needs of a concrete consumer: they are translated from the language of the original into the language of the consumer. This translation, depending on the particular features of the market, viewing habits, and other factors, is done in the form of dubbing, subtitling, or a voice-over that retains the original voices. Until now Ukraine and the other former colonies of Moscow were exceptions to the rule, a cultural and intellectual anomaly. To this day Ukraine does not have its own independent film market. Thus, the government’s decision on dubbing is designed to put an end to this anomaly inherited from the colonial past and to create a film market in Ukraine.

Let us pause a moment to examine the concrete objections of the government’s opponents to this question. Their argument is an economic one. It turns out that film distributors are financially very weak and in no position to lay out money for dubbing. Thus, these film distributors, particularly small- and medium-sized companies, would immediately go bankrupt, leaving our viewers at the mercy of powerful American competitors, who obviously can afford to spend money. As a result, Ukrainians will be deprived of access to everything that does not fit the category of Hollywood blockbuster, meaning independent, arthouse, and experimental films, and generally non-American films.

I don’t care who pays for Ukrainian-language copies of films—Kyiv, Moscow, Hollywood, or Bombay. The main thing is that they should exist. Powerful Russian film distribution companies would also be financially capable of spending the necessary funds for dubbing if they are so interested in the Ukrainian market. But I have doubts about the nature of their interest. If there is less revenue from all the cinemas in Ukraine than from movie theaters in Moscow alone, then preserving cultural and hence political hegemony over the territory that they consider their sphere of influence is more important than the pitiful amount of several million hryvnias.

The new rules of the game, which foresee the implementation of the Ukrainian cabinet’s resolution, would foster the emergence of a real market as a factor of progress complete with free competition and richness of supply. They would destroy the current monopoly, which is primitive, aggressive, and lethal to all sorts of innovations. In this scenario, the selection of films for distribution would reckon with the true commercial potential of films, its ability to attract the widest possible number of viewers, and not just with the fact that a film, no matter how dubious its quality, is ready for distribution just because it is in Russian. Then more British, Spanish, Polish, French, and Czech films would appear on the market, and viewers would have the chance to watch international films not reflected through the distorted lens of the Russian film distribution industry. How is this not an argument in favor of those who worry so touchingly about the high artistic quality of the film repertoire and support the principles of free competition and market?

There is another interesting economic argument. It turns out that the lion’s share of revenues from films distributed in Ukraine comes from the predominantly Russian-speaking eastern and southern regions. Thanks to them the “Ukrainian” film distribution industry is keeping its head above water. I assume that many film lovers don’t go to the movies simply because they do not want to watch American, French, and Italian films in Russian. (It’s hard to keep from laughing when you hear Robert de Niro, Dustin Hoffman, Alain Delon, Catherine Deneuve, or Carmen Maura speaking Russian without blinking an eye. This is as funny as Alla Demidova, Renata Litvinova, or Nikita Mikhalkov speaking English, French, or Italian.)

The advent of Ukrainian-language dubbing may give a huge impetus to movie theater-going in Ukraine’s western, central, and even eastern regions. Proponents of the argument about the unprofitability of films in western Ukraine are not relying on some sort of sociological research on the consumer potential of the Ukrainian-speaking parts of Ukraine. Meanwhile, this potential may turn out to be a large one.

Particularly significant is the psychological argument that says that viewers themselves do not like films in the Ukrainian language. They find them unnatural, risible, ridiculous, or something along those lines. The people that say this are transferring their own Ukrainophobia and antipathy to the Ukrainian language to all moviegoers in Ukraine. Thank you for your frankness, ladies and gentlemen, I get it. But I have news for you. In democratic societies people who advance the superiority of one culture over another are simply subjected to social ostracism and are isolated like an infectious disease. In this sense Ukraine is still far from being a democratic society. And as for the supposed rejection of the Ukrainian language by film audiences, one should not rush to any conclusions. Instead, we first need to see how audiences will respond in the next two or three years to high-quality Ukrainian dubbing.

A long time ago the fine translation of American television series into Ukrainian persuasively corrected the fabrication about the alleged linguistic Ukrainophobia of the domestic film audience. The Ukrainophobes are not moviegoers but those who represent them in this manner.

Aesthetic concerns are also expressed. You see, right now in Ukraine there are no good actors, and the few that exist rarely speak good Ukrainian. So dubbing that would be done with their own resources would make a horse laugh. This is undeniable. The general culture of language among actors is catastrophically low, and mastery of the language is not considered the first obvious requirement of an actor’s professionalism, as it is in other cultures. If you don’t believe me, then just go to the Molodizhnyi Theater on Prorizna Street, or the Academic (sic!) Ukrainian Drama, where you will certainly hear so many Russian phonetic features littering the language spoken on stage there that you could easily imagine you are anywhere but in a Ukrainian theater.

This problem also exists in films. The Ministry of Culture and Tourism requires that the film projects it finances are in Ukrainian, but our film people are unable to speak good Ukrainian, so they use either bad Ukrainian or they make increasingly more “silent” films in which you won’t hear any sort of language at all.

The requirement to dub films into Ukrainian, under the conditions of its consistent and inexorable implementation, will create overnight a serious demand for talent—Ukrainian-speaking talent—and dozens if not hundreds of jobs. The fact that today it is difficult to find professional actors in Ukraine does not mean that we don’t have talented people who could quickly master the necessary profession. Overnight demand will create supply. The vacuum that is being artificially maintained by the situation that has existed since 1991—in fact, since 1896—and not because of the “elemental market force” but because of the brutal and continuous policy of Russification, will be very quickly filled up with new talent. This will happen not through the government’s administration but a change in those very market conditions and the liquidation of the grotesque anomaly whereby the cultural needs of 70 percent of the population are insolently ignored.

There is nothing comparable in other European film markets. Dubbing films into Ukrainian is a step toward European democratic values. This is a sign of respect for the cultural needs of millions of Ukrainians. In the Spanish province of Catalonia, whose population is less than seven million, no one questions the advisability of releasing films in the Catalan language and subtitling foreign films in Catalan. But that is a province of Spain, and we’re talking about independent Ukraine. How can you compare the two!

Ukrainian-language dubbing will quickly create not just demand but supply. Finally, in universities where specialists in cinematography—directors, screenwriters, actors, etc.—are being trained, they will seriously begin teaching the Ukrainian language, and students will realize that mastering this language opens up career opportunities in Ukraine. Isn’t this what is scaring those who, contrary to all the demands of political correctness, cannot stop themselves from making faces whenever they demonstrate their idea of what Ukrainian-language dubbing should sound like?

It is strange that in discussions of the government’s decision almost no mention is made of another, significantly cheaper, alternative for resolving this question: foreign films, with the exception of Russian ones, can be subtitled. Everyone knows that this is done in the US, Canada, Great Britain, Spain, and Poland, and even more often in France whose film policies Moscow liked to copy at one time. One could hardly expect cinemaphiles to watch films by Fellini, Almodovar, Godard, or Woody Allen in a dubbed version. Even the highest-quality dubbing is not capable of conveying the luxuriant cultural flavor of these artists. Ukrainians read no worse than other nations. However, I am not proposing to substitute subtitles everywhere for dubbing. Dubbing is a wonderful way of affirming the Ukrainian language, and under no circumstances should this method be rejected, all the more so as our viewers are very much accustomed to it. But for arthouse productions, experimental, low-budget, and non-Hollywood films subtitles are the optimal method not only from the economic but aesthetic-creative standpoint.

It is difficult not to agree with those who are calling on the government to go beyond administrative measures and materially demonstrate the seriousness of its intentions. The government should allocate funds to create Ukraine’s own powerful resources for dubbing and subtitling films—foreign films into Ukrainian and Ukrainian films into English, French, Spanish, and other world languages—and, of course into Russian for the Russian market. It would be ideal if these steps were taken not by the government but Ukrainian industrialists or, let’s say, the newly created Association of Film Producers of Ukraine, which has a vision, a sense of obligation to its own people, and a mission that will benefit future generations. The transition to Ukrainian dubbing will become a paradigmatic change for cinematography and generally for Ukrainian culture. This will create favorable market conditions for the emergence and development of the Ukrainian film market, and a bountiful spiritual milieu for creativity on the screen and in literature.