Subs vs. Dubs: What’s your bias?

In this era where global content is just a click away, the debate between subtitles and dubbing has never been more relevant—whether you’re a binge-watching millennial, a TikTok-obsessed Gen Zer, or a Gen Xer who’s seen it all. So the question goes: Are you Team Sub, or Team Dub?

Let’s start with the iconic Studio Ghibli. If you’ve ever been enchanted by the whimsical worlds of Spirited Away or My Neighbor Totoro, you know that these films are more than just stories—they’re insights to Japanese society. For many, watching a Miyazaki masterpiece in its original Japanese is as non-negotiable as the Ramon Magsaysay Award he recently received. The dialogue in his films is almost lyrical, filled with a cadence and sentiment that dubbing struggles to replicate. Watching Howl’s Moving Castle dubbed in English is like hearing a song in a cover band version—it might hit the notes, but it doesn’t capture the soul. The original voices offer an authenticity that dubbing, however well-executed, can’t fully convey.

This brings us to a more recent phenomenon: Run On, a Korean drama that, somewhat ironically, centers on the art of translation. The show isn’t just about its storyline, but a subtle exploration of what’s at stake during translation. The lead character, played by Shin Se-kyung, is a subtitle translator navigating the complexities of capturing the proper emotions, idioms, and nuances that give dialogue the power to move. The series not only reveals that old shows, to appeal to a later generation of viewers, are sometimes given new life by refreshing the dialogue to reflect current buzzwords and expressions; it also raises ethical questions on the growing use of AI, which is much faster and most probably cheaper than manual translation. However, if done right, subtitles can offer a window into the creator’s intent, preserving the sentiment and context that might otherwise be missed or misconstrued in the process of dubbing.

There was a time before Netflix redefined how we consume media when subtitles were often the only way to enjoy non-English foreign films marketed in the Philippines. In the pre-streaming era, you had to brave and navigate the seedy alleys of Quiapo or the maze-like corridors of Virra Mall to find bargain-basement DVDs. These pirated discs were a treasure trove of international cinema, albeit often with hilariously atrocious closed captioned translations that turned serious films into unintentional comedies. Watching films with poorly translated subtitles was both frustrating and endearing, and emphasized the relevance of accurate interpretation.

Take Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon as an example. This Ang Lee epic, with its sweeping visuals and poetic storytelling, is a masterpiece in any language. The voices of Michelle Yeoh, Zhang Ziyi, and Chow Yun-fat in original Mandarin transported the viewer to that magical period of kung-fu romance. The English subtitles, despite some imperfection, brought the viewer closer to the film’s heart, allowing for a deeper appreciation of the story as it was meant to be told. By contrast, the English-dubbed version, while adequate, was like a soulless narrative.

Even Oscar-winning films aren’t immune to the limitations of translation. Parasite, the critically acclaimed pre-pandemic social commentary, captivated audiences worldwide with its dark humor and shocking twists. But as anyone fluent in Korean will tell you, even the best translation can miss the mark. Parasite’s plot has layers of meaning and cultural references that the English subtitles couldn’t fully capture. Juan de la Cruz might have found the translation satisfactory, but Mr. Kim surely appreciated the richness and subtlety that director Bong Joon-ho infused into every character’s lines.

This brings us to anime, a genre that has exploded in global popularity, thanks to its exceptional storytelling and emotional complexity. Whether you’re watching the intense battles in Naruto or the heartwarming adventures in One Piece, there’s something uniquely compelling about these stories that transcends language. The original Japanese voices, with their specific intonations and emotive delivery, are an integral part of what makes anime so captivating. Dubbing in another language, while necessary for making these stories accessible to a wider audience, often strips away this essence, reducing the characters to mere caricatures of themselves. It’s like watching a foreign film with the sound turned off —you might understand the plot, but you lose the soul of the story.

Interestingly, for some gamers and anime fans, standard English dubs make the playing or viewing more memorable. For instance, Xenoblade Chronicles, a JRPG series published by Nintendo, harnesses the British accent for editions outside of Japan. It apparently feels different when played in the original Nihongo format.

Older generations might remember the golden age of Filipino AM-radio drama, where voice actors often played multiple roles, sometimes in the same afternoon fare. This wasn’t due to bad writing but more out of practicality. Still, these seemingly monotone shows offered free entertainment at a time when choices were greatly limited.

So, what’s the takeaway here? Language is more than just a series of words strung together. It’s about context, tone, and affective depth, elements that could be lost in translation. Evidently, subtitles, when done well, offer a glimpse into the creator’s world. Dubbing, while convenient and often necessary, is more like an approximation, a way to make the story accessible to those who might not have the time or patience to read subtitles.