sábado, 24 de febrero de 2007

El proceso de domesticación: Parte 1 (Full Metal Jacket)



El objeto de este artículo es tan vasto que es necesario presentarlo en partes, donde en cada una se busca un objetivo específico muy distinto.

En esta primera entrega solo intentaré lo mejor posible compilar y traducir el discurso inicial de Sargento Hartman en la películo Nacido para Matar (Full Metal Jacket) de Stanley Kubrik.

Primero intentaré compilar el texto original en inglés.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your senior drill instructor. From now on you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be sir. Do you maggots understand that?

Recruits: Sir, yes sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit I can’t hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.

Recruits: SIR, YES SIR!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human, fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit. Because I am hard you will not like me. But the more you hate me the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps. Do you maggots understand that?

Recruits: Sir, yes sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit I can’t hear you.

Recruits: SIR, YES SIR!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What’s your name, scumbag?
Private Snowball: Sir, Private Brown, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! From now on your name is Private Snowball. Do you like your new name?
Private Snowball: Sir, yes, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well I’ll tell you one thing you won’t like, Private Snowball: they don’t serve fried chicken and watermelon on a daily basis in my mess hall.

Private Joker: Is that you John Wayne? Is this me?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit, twinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh? The fairy fucking godmother said it. Out-fucking-standing. I will PT you all until you fucking die. I'll PT you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk.
[Gunnery Sgt. Hartman grabs Pvt. Cowboy by the shirt]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Was it you, you scroungy little fuck, huh?
Private Cowboy: Sir, no Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You little piece of shit you look like a fucking worm, I bet it was you.
Private Cowboy: Sir, no Sir!
Private Joker: Sir, I said it, Sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well, no shit. What do we have here, a fucking comedian! Private, Joker! I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you, you can come over to my house and fuck my sister!
[Gunnery Sgt. Hartman punches Pvt. Joker in the stomach]
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You little scumbag! I got your name, I got your ass! You will not laugh, you will not cry, you will learn by the numbers, I will teach you! Now get up off your face! Pvt. Joker you better unfuck yourself before I unscrew your head and shit down your neck!
Private Joker: Sir, Yes sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Corps!
Private Joker: Sir, to kill, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: So you’re a killer!
Private Joker: Sir, yes sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Then let me see your war face!
Private Joker: [nervously] Sir?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You got a war face! ARRRRRRRRRGH! That’s a war face, let me see your war face!
Private Joker: Ahhhh!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit, you didn’t convince me, let me see your REAL war face!
Private Joker: Ahhhhhh!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: You still don’t scare me! Work on it!
Private Joker: Sir, yes sir!

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What’s your excuse?
Private Cowboy: Sir, excuse for what, sir?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I’m asking the fucking questions here private. Do you understand?
Private Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well thank you very much, can I be in charge for a while?
Private Cowboy: Sir, yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Are you shook up? Are you nervous?
Private Cowboy: Sir, I am, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do I make you nervous?
Private Cowboy: Sir?
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: “Sir” what? Were you about to call me an asshole?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: How tall are you, private?
Private Cowboy: Sir, five-foot-nine, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Five-foot-nine, I didn’t know they stacked shit that high.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Where are you from, private?

Private Cowboy: Sir, I’m from Texas Sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Holy dog shit. Texas? Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy. And you don’t look much like a steer to me so that kinda narrows it down. Do you suck dicks?

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Did your parents have any children that lived?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I’ll bet they regret that. You’re so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: What’s your name fat-body?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Lawrence? Lawrence what of Arabia?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, No, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: That name sounds like royalty are you royalty?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, No, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do you suck dicks?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, No, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit. I bet you could suck a golfball through a garden hose.
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, No, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: I don’t like the name Lawrence, only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence. From now on you’re Gomer Pyle.
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, Yes, sir.

Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Do you think I’m cute Private Pyle; do you think I’m funny?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, no, sir!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face.
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Well any fucking time sweetheart!
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I’m trying, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Private Pyle I’m gonna give you three seconds; exactly three-fucking-seconds to wipe that stupid looking grin off your face or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: ONE! TWO! THREE!
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, I can’t help it, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit! Get on your knees scumbag.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Now choke yourself.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Goddamn it, with my hand numb nuts.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Don’t pull my fucking hand over there. I said choke yourself; now lean forward and choke yourself.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: [choking Pyle] Are you through grinning?
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit, I can’t hear you.
Private Gomer Pyle: [Louder] Sir, yes, sir.
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: Bullshit, I still can’t hear you. Sound off like you’ve got a pair.
Private Gomer Pyle: SIR, YES, SIR!
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman: That’s enough; get on your feet. Private Pyle you had best square your ass away and start shitting me Tiffany cufflinks or I will definitely fuck you up.
Private Gomer Pyle: Sir, yes, sir.

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