"Whoever writes the Stranger Things subtitles is definitely a frustrated poet," tweeted novelist Jonathan Coe. Photo / Netflix
"Whoever writes the Stranger Things subtitles is definitely a frustrated poet," tweeted novelist Jonathan Coe. Photo / Netflix
If we had to pinpoint a word, it was probably "squelch" that gave it away. "Splosh" would have been perfectly adequate; "wet footsteps" could have sufficed. Even just "moisture sound" would have done. But squelch is perfect: so rich, so vivid, so onomatopoeic. "Squelching wetly" – well that was possibly overkill.
Series four of Netflix's Stranger Things has given its predominantly young viewers a lot of things, from a new Californian setting to a long-overdue Kate Bush primer, yet when it comes to lasting cultural impact, it's an often overlooked aspect of TV that might end up as the show's greatest legacy: turning subtitle-writing into a creative art form.
If you ever stray onto social media, it's likely you've seen the memes. Screenshots from Stranger Things, frozen with a wonderfully descriptive sound-effect caption at the bottom of the screen. "Eldritch humming", is one (eldritch being a synonym for "supernatural"). "Desiccated withering" is another, plus "wet writhing" and "sibilant trilling".
South Korean survival horror-drama Squid Game. Photo / Netflix
In the spirit of popular "no-context" Twitter accounts (accounts devoted to the posting of random screenshots from films or TV shows), the images are often funniest without explanation – or, in the case of Stranger Things, simply pointing out that each one would make a fine band name.
The novelist Jonathan Coe probably expressed it best. "Whoever writes the Stranger Things subtitles is definitely a frustrated poet," he tweeted. A frustrated poet, or at least somebody slowly working through the thesaurus entry for "moist" and thoroughly enjoying it.
Plenty is written about the death of reading among Generation Z, but those critics clearly aren't taking into account the millions of words they consume every year while watching TV and films. A 2021 survey by the captioning charity Stagetext found that in the 18-25 age group, four out of five use subtitles all or part of the time, despite having fewer hearing problems than older generations. By contrast, less than a quarter of those aged between 56 and 75 said they watch with captions on.
Explanations for this sudden surge in read-watching among young people are many and varied. Ranging from US audiences increasingly watching British shows with impenetrable-to-their-ears regional accents, such as Peaky Blinders or Derry Girls, to the frequent complaint that modern dramatic actors – who aim for realism over perfect diction but land squarely at "incoherent murmuring" – are just too mumbly for even perfect ears to follow without assistance.
Another reason is slightly more depressing, at least for filmmakers. "The main reason they do it," one Gen Z-er said, briefly looking up from his phone and computer when I accosted him about the matter, "is so they can flick their eyes up and read ahead, then take in the whole scene quickly, and look back down at their phone, or whatever second screen they have. It's kind of stupid, but everyone does it."
Cillian Murphy and Sam Neill in Peaky Blinders. Photo / Netflix
By that token, subtitles and closed captions – technically, the former is intended for people who cannot understand the language being spoken, the latter for people who cannot hear the audio – are treated by Gen Z as a kind of televisual Huel. In other words, why waste time enjoying the full meal as a chef intended, when you could just chug the key components in a fraction of the time and get back to whatever else you're doing? ("It's called efficiency, grandad – look it up.")
One result of this shift is a boom in foreign-language series. Netflix's most popular show to date, Squid Game, is South Korean, and many of its other most successful creations – from Spanish crime drama Money Heist and the Colombian series Narcos (which mixed Spanish and English), to French productions Call My Agent! and Lupin – are enjoyed by audiences who can't comprehend a word being said (thus dissolving what Bong Joon-Ho, the South Korean director of Parasite, once called "the one-inch-tall barrier of subtitles", which historically put off English-speaking audiences from foreign productions).
But Netflix, which does nothing if not constantly monitor its dwindling membership's whims, has also revolutionised its captioning on English-language shows with a so-called English Timed Text Style Guide for its in-house productions. According to its director of globalisation, Kathy Rokni, adverbs are encouraged "where appropriate". "Describe sounds, music, and even silence. It's important if it adds to the emotion," she explained recently.
The growth in demand means that a key but long-undervalued industry, language service providers (or LSPs), which provide subtitles, captions and dubbing, are now struggling to cope. Conversely, diplomatic translation services are finding their translators are being lured towards TV, creating a shortage of linguists where previously there had been an over-supply.
We are in a new era of captioning, an art form that began with silent film's intertitles, morphed into manual transcription by court stenographers and then embraced artificial intelligence, often with hilarious results (as satirised in a memorable scene in the series W1A when "President Tramp promises a big day on Notional Security saying he will build a well along the border with Max Sicko").
The new, improved captions offer more nuance, more creativity, and more chance you'll be able to scroll Instagram at the same time as watching something. On Netflix, 80 per cent of subscribers regularly watch with subtitles or closed captions.
On Stranger Things, in which "tentacles undulate moistly" and synthesisers are anthropomorphised more than a penguin in a Pixar film, the brain behind the adverbs is a man named "Jeff T". Now a hero of sorts to young fans of the show, he joined in its third season. He revealed: "My best friend is hard of hearing in one ear, and he came up to me and he was like, 'This is one of the first times, if [not] the only time, I've just felt fully immersed in a show without having to turn the volume all the way up.'"
T – who chooses not to give his second name – has been writing captions for 15 years, and says he is influenced by authors from the "New Weird" literary movement of the 1990s and early 2000s, such as China Miéville and Jeff VanderMeer. "I love authors who use evocative words and language to do their world-building, so I will freely admit that whenever I'm reading and see a word that's great, I steal it to put in my word bank," he told a journalist.
He is not unaware of his online fame. In the case of "tentacles undulating moistly", he conceded he was "trolling a little bit with that". But second-screening Gen Zers – or the hearing impaired, for whom the better captioning is really designed – won't mind at all, of course. It all adds to the viewing experience.
And, mercifully, T knows where the tender, oscillating, dewy line is. "People brought up the squelching, but that palpable pressing sound is meant to evoke disgust and horror," he explained. "If I was doing a Regency-era picture or a stoner comedy, I would change my language and shift accordingly."
