ê.ô.í. Øèíãàðåâà Ì.Þ., ìàãèñòðàíò Ñàðàáåêîâà Æ.Ì.
Ðåãèîíàëüíûé
ñîöèàëüíî-èííîâàöèîííûé óíèâåðñèòåò
Play with figures of speech
If compared to the types of language-play based primarily on the
repetition of formally defined elements (such as rhyme or alliteration — to be
taken up later), the category to be discussed here is much more pun-like
because of the fact that meaning and pragmatics are strongly involved. In my
opinion, it serves well as a kind of transition from the previous chapter on
puns to more distinct types of non-punning language-play.
What the examples included have in common is that well-established
expressions or ways of expressing something, or expressions normally connected
to a particular type of situation or context, are used or interpreted in such a
way that the implications and connotations that they carry are brought to the
fore by being unexpectedly overthrown. In the process, the expression itself is
left unchanged (cf. the next section or e.g. some of the paronymic puns for
examples where an expression is
changed), and it is another character’s interpretation of it, or the context in
a broad sense, that turns its occurrence into language-play.
I found it impossible to come up with a concise label for the present
category, even though it partly overlaps with what e.g. Grassegger treats under
“the literal interpretation of idiomatic expressions” (1985:58ff). In fact,
play with idioms is given some attention in studies on wordplay (cf. e.g.
Veisbergs 1997), and this is also true of other types of relatively fixed
expressions (e.g. Leppihalme 1996), especially when the original wording has
been altered. I, too, have treated several such cases as e.g. paronymic puns.
However, the expressions taken up here have not undergone any formal changes
(such as additions or certain elements being substituted for others), and only
some of the examples involve what would generally be counted as true idioms.
Where that is the case, the idioms in question have retained so much of their
metaphorical nature that the original imagery would have been evoked even in
non-playful language use.
Now, consider the sequence from Antz that
first prompted my suspicion that establishing a separate category for this kind
of playful language use might be called for:
In Insectopia, some insects
enjoy a mild summer evening, sitting together and talking. A beetle nibbles on
a bit of ‘food’.
Beetle: This stuff tastes
like crap.
Fly: Really ? Let me try
some.
(tastes) Hey, it is crap. Not bad.
I think the humour of this sequence is primarily derived from the extra-
linguistic circumstance that a creature which otherwise behaves very much like
a human being should like to consume ‘crap’. The important point here, however,
is the fact that an often used, if informal, way of describing an unpleasant
culinary experience (tastes
like crap) turns
out to be much truer than is normally the case. To exploit this standard
expression in the way shown must be counted as language-play. In my opinion, it
does not represent a pun, though, because we are really only dealing with just
one meaning here, namely that of something tasting like crap.
Of course, it might be argued that a person claiming that something
tastes like crap, say a meal served in prison or a culinary experiment gone
awry, really wants to convey nothing more than that the foodstuff in question
tastes bad. Many comparisons such as tastes like crap
are not literally true. Frequently, as in the present case, exaggeration is
involved, and both the speaker and the addressee know that the other one knows
this, which is exactly why it is so striking when, for once, the picture evoked
by the choice of words is actually accurate.
Some analysts might consider the literal interpretation of a figure of
speech as a kind of pun. I would argue that there is a difference, however,
because we are not really dealing with separate meanings here, or polysemy of
the kind exploited in puns, but with implications or implicatures. What is
implied by tastes
like crap is that
it ‘tastes as bad as crap’, which may or may not be true (who would dare to
claim expertise in this matter?), and the language- play is thus not based on a clash of incongruous
meanings, but on the fact that what every competent language user must perceive
to be a figure of speech represents an accurate description on every level.
Consider another example, which perhaps illustrates the difference more
clearly between puns on the one hand and plays with certain established ways of
expressing something on the other. I particularly enjoyed it due to the way it
transcends the boundaries of the fictional narrative in The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and becomes a meta-comment on the
realities of film-making:
A
police officer, played by the actor John Goodman, arrests Karen, among other
reasons for “impersonating FBI agent Karen Sympathy”. When it is pointed out to
him that Karen actually is
the agent in question, he dismisses
this with the words:
Yeah, and I’m really
John Goodman.
We are dealing not so much with a metaphor or a simile in this case, and
not really with exaggeration either, but rather with irony or sarcasm.
Declaring oneself to be a well-known or powerful person is a common way of
demonstrating that another speaker’s claims about him- or herself have not been
believed. Now, even though the point may be driven home more effectively by
choosing for this purpose an imaginary figure such as Santa Claus or a
historical one such as the Emperor of China, a well-known living actor,
including John Goodman, will generally also do the trick. Consequently,
whenever a person claims to be John Goodman, it can be assumed that this is
meant to imply that the claim is as untrue as anything the addressee may have
said immediately before. The more striking the effect, therefore, when it actually
is John Goodman who answers in this way, negating the implications that anybody
familiar with this kind of expression must have taken for granted. While the
police officer implies that both Karen’s claims and his own are nonsense, both
are actually correct, if on different levels of reality.
I think it would be stretching the concept of polysemy too far if it
were claimed that John
Goodman carries
the meaning of both ‘the actor by that name’, and, as if in contrast to this
first meaning, ‘a celebrity of the kind the speaker is not’. For this reason, I
reject the otherwise not entirely inconceivable alternative of including this
example among the polysemic puns, just as I reject it with the example based on
tastes like crap.
As an illustration of a different way of playing with standard
expressions without necessarily creating puns, consider the following excerpt
from Inspector Gadget, where the expressions have been
transferred from their habitual semantic field of sports to a quite unrelated
one:
The
villain Scolex has been forced to abandon his helicopter and is coming down on
a parachute. The Gadgetmobile pulls under him, all the time commenting on its
own actions as if the whole event were part of a baseball game, and eventually
catches Scolex in a cage on the back seat.
Gadgetmobile: Ladies and gentlemen,
Scolex is out and that is the game!
Final score: Gadgetmobile one, Scolex zippo. And the
fans rush the field. (police cars surround the Gadgetmobile) No autographs,please. [...]
Apparently, catching criminals is more of a sport than a regular job to
the Gadgetmobile, and it shows this by employing lexemes and expressions that
are normally only used in connection with large spectator sports such as
baseball. In this case, too, it would be misleading to speak of multiple
meanings that are simultaneously evoked in expressions such as that is the game, final score and the fans rush the field. The speaker simply engages in a game of make-believe that involves a
reinterpretation of the actual events with the help of playful language use.
As a curiosity, I can also briefly mention that a play with an
established expression need not depend on any actually audible or visible words
at all. In Chicken
Run, which is part of my
corpus, there is a scene where a spanner (a wrench) gets caught among the
cogwheels of a large machine and causes it to stop and break down. It is of
course no coincidence that the item responsible for this event should be that
particular kind of tool: it offers a literal interpretation of the idiomatic
expression a spanner
(a wrench) in the works. The result is a rather clear polysemic pun.
Literature:
1.
Grassegger, Hans. 1985. Sprachspiel und Ubersetyung: eine Studie anhand der
Comic- Serie Asterix. Tubingen: Stauffenburg.