With global streaming platforms bringing short dramas from diverse cultures to international audiences, the role of translation extends far beyond mere words. Subtitles and dubbing must navigate the intricate web of cultural nuances, particularly when it comes to food and dining practices, which are often accepted as windows into the values, traditions and social dynamics of a society. Consider a Chinese short drama depicting a family gathering for the Lunar New Year: a simple mention of "jiaozi" isn't just about a small piece of dough wrapped around meat and vegetables; it evokes themes of familial love and harmony. Similarly, a scene involving toasts at a banquet carries layers of hierarchy and respect. Translators face a delicate task: how to convey these elements without diluting their essence or alienating viewers. Now we are going to explore the strategies for handling culturally loaded food terms, like the "tuanyuanfan" (reunion dinner) and dining etiquette, such as toasting rituals, weighing the merits of retaining original terms with annotations versus adapting them to cultural equivalents. Drawing on translation theories and real-world examples, we'll see how these choices shape cross-cultural understanding.
At the heart of translating food in media lies the challenge of cultural symbols that carry meanings beyond their literal definitions. In Chinese contexts, food often symbolizes deeper concepts. Though the direct translation from "jiaozi" to "dumplings" captures the physical description, it misses the cultural metaphor: during the Spring Festival, making and eating jiaozi represents family bonding and good fortune, as the shape resembles ancient gold ingots. Translators must decide whether to stick with a straightforward equivalent or more explanations. One effective approach is explication, where additional context is added to clarify cultural significance. For instance, in a subtitle, "jiaozi" could become "jiaozi: dumplings, symbolizing wealth and family reunion," preserving the foreign term while making it understood more easily.
A more complex example is "tuanyuanfan," the reunion dinner held on Chinese New Year's Eve. This isn't just a meal; it's a ritual emphasizing familial harmony, where dishes like fish (In Chinese, fish is pronounced the same as "surplus". Ancient Chinese people wished that through eating fish at the beginning of the year, there could be a food abundance by the end of the year) is laden with symbolism. Direct retention of "tuanyuanfan" with a footnote —such as "tuanyuanfan (family reunion dinner)"—employs a foreignization strategy, introducing the audience to the source culture's uniqueness. Alternatively, it might be translated as "Chinese Thanksgiving dinner." However, this substitution risks oversimplification, as tuanyuanfan emphasize on circular tables and shared dishes, unlike the more individualistic Western feasts. Studies on subtitle strategies highlight that retention is often preferred for non-existent equivalents, as seen in analyses of Netflix cooking shows where terms like "bubble and squeak" (a British dish) are kept intact to maintain authenticity. On the grounds that short dramas has tight pacing, explicitation via concise annotations strikes a balance, allowing viewers to grasp the cultural depth without halting the narrative.
Beyond food terms, dining etiquette presents its own subtleties in translation. Chinese meal customs are steeped in hierarchy and respect, elements that can puzzle or intrigue foreign audiences. Consider the toasting culture, known as "jingjiu." In a banquet scene, participants raise glasses with phrases like "ganbei" (bottoms up), but the ritual involves nuanced gestures: holding your glass lower than an elder's to show deference, or tapping the table to express thanks when tea is poured. Translating this directly as "cheers" might suffice linguistically, but it strips away the cultural hierarchy. Instead, subtitles could use explicitation: "Ganbei! (Cheers, with respect—hold the glass lower)." This foreignizing tactic retains the original term while annotating the etiquette, helping viewers appreciate the social dynamics at play.
Other aspects of table manners, such as seating arrangements and chopstick rules, further illustrate translation dilemmas. In Chinese dining, the seat facing the door is for the host or honored guest - to protect them and show the respect. A short drama might show characters hesitating before sitting, but without context, this could seem awkward. Translators might opt for cultural substitution, likening it to "the head of the table" in relatable Western settings. Yet, this domestication can erode the allure that draws viewers to international content. Chopstick etiquette—avoiding sticking them upright in rice (looking like funeral incense)—demands careful handling; a subtitle note like "Don't do that—it's bad luck!" conveys the taboo without over-explaining. Research on audiovisual translation stresses that such cultural substitutions are useful when direct equivalents exist, but for unique rituals, generalization or addition ensures the scene's intent shines through.
The broader debate in translation theory pits domestication against foreignization. Domestication adapts the source material to fit the target culture, aiming for fluency and familiarity—think translating "tuanyuanfan" as a "family feast" to evoke universal warmth. Its advantage lies in accessibility: viewers engage without cultural barriers, which is crucial in fast-paced short dramas where confusion could lead to disinterest. However, critics argue it homogenizes content, potentially erasing the "otherness" that enriches global media. Foreignization, conversely, preserves source elements, like keeping "jingjiu" and explaining by subtitles, to maintain cultural differences. This approach fosters cultural awareness, as seen in films like "Parasite," where Korean dining scenes retain their authenticity to immerse audiences. The downside? It may confuse viewers unfamiliar with the culture, and increase cognitive load in subtitles.
In practice, a hybrid method often works best. For food terms in a Chinese short drama, foreignization with explicitation—retaining "jiaozi" but noting its symbolism. For etiquette like toasting, domestication via parallels (e.g., comparing to Western clinking glasses) can bridge gaps, but only if paired with annotations to avoid misrepresentation. Guidelines from platforms like Netflix encourage matching tone to the audience, yet translators must weigh context: in educational or niche dramas, foreignization shines; in mainstream ones, domestication ensures broader appeal.
Ultimately, translating food and dining culture in short dramas is an art of subtlety, requiring sensitivity to both source and target languages. By thoughtfully choosing between retention with notes and cultural approximations, translators not only convey plots but also build bridges across cultures. As global media consumption grows, these decisions will shape how we perceive one another's traditions and customs.
