Oversættelse

Jeg er løbet ind i denne oversættelse, som jeg synes er en anelse svær.
Jeg har gjort mit bedste, men synes ikke det er blevet for godt.

Dansk:
Vi har vel vænnet os til, at de myrder løs, brænder huse, smider bomber i Mellemøsten, de er jo gale dernede og det er så langt væk
Men at man gør det samme i religionens navn på vore egne, kølige breddegrader falder tungere for tanken, selv om vi så har hørt om den nordirske borgerkrig i årevis.
Filmen Cal bringer dette problem tæt ind på livet af os. Den gør det ikke ved at diskutere – dens replikker er tværtimod få og lavmælte – men ved at vise, i billeder, i menneskeskæbner.
Gud er kærlighed, siger et vejskilt, og så kører nogle katolikker fra IRA af sted for at myrde en politimand. Han er nemlig protestant.
Unge Cal er med som chauffør, er altså medskyldig i mord, skønt han er et skikkeligt, frygtsomt menneske, der helst vil ud af det. Og så vil tilfældet eller skæbnen, at han møder politimandens katolske enke Marcella og forelsker sig i hende.
Det kunne lyde som optakten til et fælt melodrama, men filmen er alt andet.
Den har sine voldsomme optrin og en god understrøm af spænding, men er ellers dæmpet, indtrængende og overbevisende.
Cal bor med sin far i det protestantiske kvarter, og de må stadig frygte at blive ”brændt ud”. Deres hengivenhed over for hinanden er skildret uendeligt fint og nænsomt, en stribe lys i mørket.
Ikke at handle er også at handle får Cal at vide. Den onde er cirkel er uendelig.
Man myrder for kammeraters, fædres, sønners, Guds og landets skyld. Man vil have Cal med i nye aktioner, men han har gemt sig på landet, hos enken og hendes svigerforældre, der ser nogenlunde neutralt på borgerkrigen: der er skiderikker på begge sider.


Engelsk:
Extract from Bent Mohns review of the movie “Cal” in Politiken, 9th of September 1985:
We have probably got used to the fact that they kill without limits, burn houses, throw bombs in the Middle East, they are mad down there, you see and it’s so far away. But that you do the same in name of religion on our own, in our cool part of the world comes harder for the thought, even though we had heard about the North Irish civil war for years. The movie Cal affects us more closely, It don’t do it by discussing – it’s lines is on the contrary few and low-voiced – but by showing in pictures, in human faiths.
God is love, a road sign said, and then some Catholics from IRA are driving along to kill a policeman. He is a protestant, you see.
Young Cal is present as driver, therefore accomplice in murder, although he is a good-natured, timid human being, who rather wants to get out. And then the incident or the destiny wants him to meet the Catholic widow Marcella of the policeman and falls in love with her.
It could sound as the prelude to a foul melodrama, but the movie is everything else.
It has its violently incident and a good undercurrent of excitement, but is otherwise muted, urgent, and persuasive.
Cal lives with his father in the protestant estate, and they may still fear to be “burned out”. Their devotion towards each other is described indefinitely fine and gentle, a streak of light in the darkness. Not to act is also to act Cal is being told. The viscous circle is endless; you kill for the sake of your friends’, fathers’, sons’, gods and the country. They want Cal to take part in new actions, but he had hidden himself in the country, with the widow and her parents-in-law, who look fairly neutral on the civil war: There are bastards on both sides.