Via Boing Boing ben ik uitgekomen bij kunstenaar Kevin Pease, die tenminste een deel van zijn inkomen verdient met het produceren van ambigrams. Hij heeft twee delen van Quinten Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction subtiel hertaald in Iambische pentameters en in het Queens (m/v) English uit de tijd van William Shakespeare.
Allereerst de klassieke dialoog in de auto tussen Samuel L. Jackson (Jules) en John Travolta (Vincent) over de kwaliteit van hamburgers in Europa. Een dialoog die net als andere dialogen van Pulp Fiction de pulp-cultuur van hamburgers, coca cola, Marlene Monroe en Elvis Presley verheft tot hoge cultuur.
V And you know what they call a… a… a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
J They don’t call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?
V No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn’t know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
J Then what do they call it?
V They call it a Royale with cheese.
J A Royale with cheese. What do they call a Big Mac?
V Well, a Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.
J Le Big-Mac. Ha ha ha ha. What do they call a Whopper?
V I dunno, I didn’t go into Burger King.
ACT I SCENE 2. A road, morning. Enter a carriage, with JULES and VINCENT, murderers.
J: And know’st thou what the French name cottage pie?
V: Say they not cottage pie, in their own tongue?
J: But nay, their tongues, for speech and taste alike Are strange to ours, with their own history: Gaul knoweth not a cottage from a house.
V: What say they then, pray?
J: Hachis Parmentier.
V: Hachis Parmentier! What name they cream?
J: Cream is but cream, only they say le crème.
V: What do they name black pudding?
J: I know not; I visited no inn it could be bought.
Kevin Pease meldt overigens terecht dat in de tijd van William Shakespeare aardappels nog niet op het menu stonden.
Als tweede scene, die waarin Samuel L. Jackson en John Travolta in de flat van de jongens zijn binnengedrongen en Samuel L. Jackson de dodelijke vraag stelt naar de identiteit van zijn eigen baas, Marcellus Wallace, die door de jongens is beroofd.
Allereerst de originele dialoog:
[Jules shoots the guy on the couch during Bretts interrogation]
J Oh, I’m sorry, did I break your concentration?
J What does Marcellus Wallace look like?
B What?
J What country you from?
B What?
J What ain’t no country I ever heard of! They speak English in What?
B What?
J ENGLISH, MOTHERFUCKER! DO-YOU-SPEAK-IT?
B Yes!
J Then you know what I’m saying!
B Yes!
J Describe what Marcellus Wallace looks like!
B What, I-?
J [pointing his gun] Say what again. SAY WHAT AGAIN. I dare you, I double dare you, motherfucker. Say what one more goddamn time.
B He’s b-b-black…
J Go on.
B He’s bald…
J Does he look like a bitch?
B What?
[J shoots Brett in shoulder]
J DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?
B No!
J Then why you try to fuck him like a bitch, Brett?
B I didn’t.
J Yes you did. Yes you did, Brett. You tried to fuck him. And Marcellus Wallace don’t like to be fucked by anybody, except Mrs. Wallace.
Deze dialoog is overigens ook hier op Youtube te zien, niet met originele beelden, maar als een hele mooie typografische oefening met het originele geluid.
En dan de versie van William Shakespeare (afbeelding uit Wikipedia):
J: My pardon; did I break thy concentration?
Continue! Ah, but now thy tongue is still.
Allow me then to offer a response.
Describe Marsellus Wallace to me, pray.
B: What?
J: What country dost thou hail from?
B: What?
J: How passing strange, for I have traveled far,
And never have I heard tell of this What.
What language speak they in the land of What?
B: What?
J: The Queen’s own English, base knave, dost thou speak it?
B: Aye!
J: Then hearken to my words and answer them!
Describe to me Marsellus Wallace!
B: What?
JULES presses his knife to BRETT’s throat
J: Speak ‘What’ again! Thou cur, cry ‘What’ again!
I dare thee utter ‘What’ again but once!
I dare thee twice and spit upon thy name!
Now, paint for me a portraiture in words,
If thou hast any in thy head but ‘What’,
Of Marsellus Wallace!
B: He is dark.
J: Aye, and what more?
B: His head is shaven bald.
J: Has he the semblance of a harlot?
B: What?
JULES strikes and BRETT cries out
J: Has he the semblance of a harlot?
B: Nay!
J: Then why didst thou attempt to bed him thus?
B: I did not!
J: Aye, thou didst! O, aye, thou didst!
Thou hoped to rape him like a chattel whore,
And sooth, Lord Wallace is displeased to bed
With anyone but she to whom he wed.
Briljant, van pulp cultuur via hoge cultuur naar klassieke cultuur.
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