Yesterday evening, I went to the Lido Theatre in the Orchard area to watch the latest Hong Kong movie Night King (夜王) starring Dayo Wong and Sammi Cheng. I was expecting to watch the original Cantonese version but it turned out to be the dubbed version in Mandarin. At first, I was a bit disappointed, but as I watched on I found myself enjoying the film, so it was worth my while after all.
It is often said that movies are best enjoyed in the original sound rather than dubbed. I myself subscribed to that idea for a long time, not only for films, but also for books. For this reason, I was reluctant to buy translated books if the original was written in a language I understood—either Japanese, English, Chinese, or French.
However, my view gradually began to change around 2008, when I encountered in a Singaporean bookstore a comic book titled Le Journal de mon père, the French translated version of the late Japanese manga artist Jiro Taniguchi’s masterpiece Chichi no Koyomi (父の暦). I bought it to study French, but as I progressed through the pages I became so engrossed in the story that I no longer cared what language it was in.
As I found out later, Japanese manga is quite popular in France, and numerous comic books have been translated into French. Jiro Taniguchi—whose drawing style was heavily influenced by French bande dessinée—is particularly well known among Francophone readers. There is a robust demand for Japanese-French translation, and the market mechanism based on competition all but assures the quality of the final product.
When I first read Le Journal de mon père, I was impressed by the smoothness and fluidity of its French translation. Inevitably, some of the original nuances in Japanese might have been lost, but the result was not necessarily inferior to the original version.
I believe that, as long as the translator is skillful enough, the content will not be watered down, although it will take on a slightly different flavor when presented in another language. Whether this new flavor is likable or not is all subjective—it’s up to each reader’s taste and preference. In some instances, translated versions might even be clearer and easier to digest, having gone through an extra layer of processing and refinement in the head of the translator.
Since I’m no longer obsessed with enjoying books, movies, or shows in their original versions, sometimes I opt for translated versions as the fancy takes me.
For example, over the years I’ve read the English and French translations of a few novels by Haruki Murakami, and the French and Chinese translations of Jiro Taniguchi’s comic books, savoring the distinct flavor of each of these languages. As for nonfiction books—including those originally written in English—I prefer to read most of them in Japanese for a better level of comprehension and a faster reading speed.
In addition, I occasionally watch Japanese movies and shows dubbed into English, for learning new words and expressions and enjoying the sound of this language, while still managing to catch up on the subtleties of the dialogue and understand the societal and cultural background behind the story line. Netflix has numerous Japanese productions that are dubbed into English, and I find their dubbing quality to be quite decent.
Returning to the topic of Hong Kong movies like the one I watched yesterday, it used to be that they were all dubbed into Mandarin when shown here in Singapore, due to the government’s linguistic policy promoting the use of Mandarin over dialects, such as Cantonese and Hokkien.
However, in recent years, the government has loosened this policy, resulting in some films being shown in Cantonese. I wouldn’t mind watching them in either language, since I like both Mandarin and Cantonese. That said, I’d prefer it if there were more options going forward, rather than having just one version forced onto the general public.
I’m looking forward to catching another Hong Kong movie soon—I’ll check the movie listings more carefully next time to make sure it’s shown in the language of my choice.




