Reporting techniques
Although electronic and digital news-gathering has long superseded film as the main means of originating news material, most of the reporting techniques have remained unchanged.
Of all the skills needed for television news reporting, the piece to camera is among the most frequently used and as such is probably the most susceptible to changes in fashion. For reasons it is hard to fathom some programmes would rather have the viewer looking at a succession of building exteriors than a reporter’s face, and experienced journalists are known to consider they have failed if they have to resort to one, but there is no doubt that the ‘standupper’ – to give its alternative name – remains a sure and straightforward means of giving the news on location.
It has three advantages. It immediately establishes the reporter’s presence on the spot; it is extremely simple to execute, and it is fast enough to be considered a kind of contingency sample, rather like the dust scooped up by the first men on the moon in case they had to return to Earth rather hurriedly.
Chiefly because of its speed and the fact that there may be no other pictures to supplement it, the piece to camera can be designed as a complete report by itself, yet it probably has greater value as one ingredient within a comprehensive news report, being versatile enough to be slotted in at almost any point, not necessarily at the opening or closing stages.
The term ‘piece to camera’ is self-descriptive, being, those words which the reporter speaks aloud while looking directly into the camera lens and, through it, to the viewer. The technique depends on an ability to write spoken language and to remember it word for word when delivering it to the camera. But in some respects what matters more is the choice of location for the operation. For example, there seems little point to be gained in travelling thousands of miles and then pointing the camera at the reporter standing in front of some anonymous brick wall. Unless the brick wall is germane, or there are legal problems such as exist over filming within court precincts, the aim should always be to show reporters actually where they say they are. To say proudly that our reporter is there is one thing: to prove it to the viewer is something else.
That does not mean going to ridiculous lengths to find a background which is visually exciting but irrelevant to the story. It should be enough to place the reporter in a spot which is appropriate, interesting, but not too distracting. If the welcome which greets the news team is not overwhelming, the piece to camera is capable of being completed within a very few minutes, provided the camera equipment has been tested and is known to be working properly, and the reporter is ready with the words.
Figure 9.1 All news services have their own ideas about how reporters should be framed on the screen. Central positioning may have the effect of masking some of the picture (a). Putting the reporter to one side improves composition, making her part of the action and not just a superimposition on it (b).
Most pieces to camera are recorded as the reporter stands full-face to the lens. But putting the reporter to one side of the frame rather than in the centre ensures that any action in the background is not completely blotted out, and the figure seems to become part of the picture and not a superimposition on it.
Sensible variations are to be welcomed as long as they do not seem to be too contrived. On occasions these may be forced upon the reporter by the situation: sitting in aircraft, cars or trains, crouching under fire or walking along a road. So much depends on the styles programmes establish for their reporters to follow.
Much of the apprehension felt by novices about their first pieces to camera is caused by doubts about their ability to remember their words. Admittedly this can pose a real problem, for it is a knack achieved more easily by some than others.
Newcomers to television news reporting are haunted by the possibility that even a short, apparently simple piece will require several attempts, resulting in a waste of time, temper and a humiliating starring role on the private tape of bloomers television technicians love to compile for showing at office Christmas parties. They can take comfort from the admission by some experienced practitioners that, even under the least demanding circumstances, they are unable to remember more than a few words at a time. Others get them right at the first attempt or never. The majority have occasional off-days but generally survive the ordeal without too much trouble. Relatively few have memories which allow them to recall prodigious numbers of words with barely a moment’s hesitation.
For everyone else there is no infallible formula, certainly not ad-libbing, which is inclined to come across as uncertainty rather than spontaneity. Perhaps the only answer for the beginner is to keep the length of narrative down to the maximum capable of being remembered without difficulty. Anyone able to memorize a five-line limerick should certainly be able to recall 45 words (15 seconds). Trying to force more can be counter-productive, for little is worse than watching someone totter to within the final few sentences of a piece clearly too long to memorize.
Figure 9.2 One way out for the forgetful is to read a piece to camera direct from notes if you cannot remember the words or have no time to learn them. Have the memory-aid in shot, otherwise the audience may wonder why you keep looking away, and do not forget to look into camera as often as possible.
While there is no way of avoiding the problem posed by the limits of memory, three possible escape routes suggest themselves. Using two takes framed in different ways (Figures 9.3(a) and (b)) is relatively ugly to look at and strictly second best, but, in a tight corner is preferable to a halting performance which threatens to grind to a full stop at any moment: Escapes 1 and 3 are suitable for use in recorded or ‘live’ conditions.
Figure 9.3 Another possibility for the forgetful. Anyone should be able to remember 45 words, so learn the two halves of a 30-second piece to camera separately. Get the camera operator to frame you in medium shot (a) for the first half and change to close-up (b) for the second. The pictures can then be edited together to produce one continuous take. Unsightly but effective. Note that the reporter in both shots is framed more centrally than in Figure 9.2 to avoid exaggerating the jump between edits.
For Escape No. 1 the reporter needs to ensure the opening paragraph at least is word-perfect. The rest may be read from a notebook or clipboard which is clearly in shot so the viewer is not left wondering about the inevitable head movements away from the lens. Subsequent raising of the head from the page towards the camera for a sentence or two at a time may add just enough refinement to make the performance tolerable.
Escape No. 2 requires even more than usual cooperation from the camera-operator. Here the reporter does not attempt to speak the lines in a continuous take. Instead, the script is learned and recorded in two separate chunks of (again) say, 45 words. For the sections then to fit neatly together the two shots of the reporter must be framed in a sufficiently different way to avoid an awkward ‘jump-cut’ in the middle. The use of this technique should give the reporter some confidence early on. Later, attempts should be made to train the memory to accept longer and longer pieces, eventually overcoming the need for any split.
Escape No. 3 has been devised by reporters themselves. It involves pre-recording the words onto an audio cassette machine small enough to conceal in a pocket, and then listening to the replayed tape through a tiny earpiece while repeating the commentary to camera at the same time. It is an ingenious technique which seems to require more effort than that merely to learn the words, but practitioners say the recorders give them a confidence they would not otherwise feel, and if it improves their performance for the camera, then it is thoroughly worthwhile.
The method is not foolproof, though, for there is enough evidence on tape to prove that the all-important earpiece has a habit of popping out into sight at the wrong moment, and that cassette players have been known to malfunction and leave the performer speechless.
Finally, there is no point in any piece-to-camera script which fails to refer, even obliquely, to what is going on in the rest of the picture behind the reporter. When the background is general rather than specific, it is essential for script and location, however fragile the real connection between the two, to be tied together as firmly as possible, preferably by the opening words.
If the piece to camera is a vision story delivered on location, the studio spot is a vision story delivered in the studio by someone other than the main newscaster or presenter. Usually it is a specialist correspondent or reporter who is called upon to draw together the elements of a news story and tell it to the camera in the studio, often standing and with the aid of graphics on a massive ‘video-wall’ behind the journalist or to one side. Sometimes the correspondent also links in and out of clips of videotape.
For many reporters, these appearances aggravate the underlying nervousness already discussed, largely because of an awareness that such performances are invariably live ones made in the context of a programme as it is being aired, and that the smallest mistakes are therefore incapable of being corrected. That said, there are considerable advantages for those making studio appearances. First, the script can be prepared up to the time of transmission, making it possible to include the latest information about a running news story. Second, the performance is made in the reasonable comfort of the studio rather than on location where other people and the elements make the situation harder to control. Third, and probably most important, the reporter may not need to rely on memory, for as well as the written script available out of shot, there will be a device displaying the words so that the speaker appears to be looking directly at the viewer while reading.
Figure 9.4 One of the most popular modern techniques for delivering pieces to camera. Read the written script into a miniature audio cassette machine and then replay the recording to prompt you as you speak the words aloud. It is, however, dangerous to try this for a live contribution, in case the audio cassette jams.
These devices, used by news presenters in particular, are often referred to by the general term ‘prompter’. Various systems are used in television but they all simply take the words written into the computer and display them for the journalist as he or she looks directly at the camera lens. The main benefit here is that very late changes made on the master script are carried out simultaneously on the prompter. Where computer systems are in use, hard copy scripts are also likely to be printed out for readers who do not wish to rely entirely on electronic viewing aids, and who like to mark emphasis, punctuation, and so on.
Figure 9.5 The ultimate memory-jogger for reporters on location – a portable electronic ‘prompting’ device fitted to a hand-held camera. It is now just a matter of correct positioning to enable the words to be read. This is rarely used for daily news programmes but is more common for longer current affairs programmes or big live OB events. (Photo courtesy of EDS Portaprompt.)
The rest of the prompter consists of a display unit mounted on the front of one or more studio cameras with the words superimposed on the lens photographing the performer, who looks straight ahead and reads at the same time. The scrolling movement of the script is regulated by an operator, who keeps pace as the words are spoken. Other computerized refinements allow the order of scripts to be changed at the press of a key.
Prompter devices are also used by politicians and other speakers who need to appear as fluent and at ease as are television performers in the studio.
All these machines, if used with care, are capable of producing fluently professional performances from almost anyone able to read with some expression. It is true that some reporters and programme presenters consider themselves above using any mechanical aids, but they are few enough to be regarded as unnecessarily eccentric. For most, the use of any sort of prompting device is infinitely preferable to the alternative: the sight of the top of the head during a performance because constant downward movement has to be made towards the script on the desk.
Prompters are as capable of being misused as any other tool, and many nervous television performers tend to depend on them as lifelines from which they dare not be parted. The frequent result is a near-hypnotic gaze which seems to bore into the viewer. The really skilful and experienced user of the machine treats it as a valued friend and ally, yet is sensible enough not to depend on it entirely. Occasional references to the written script, particularly for figures or statistics, reassure the viewer that details are not just being conjured out of thin air, although by now most members of the public must realize that no reader could possibly have learnt it all.
Prompting devices in general have proved a real boon to news performers, and have helped programme presentation to the extent where it is difficult to know how any modern television news service can afford to be without them.
Probably more indignation is aroused by interviews than almost any other aspect of factual television, although the objections may arise less frequently over news interviews than those which come under the loose heading of ‘current affairs’.
Complaints tend to fall into three main categories. There is, first of all, the matter of intrusion where, instead of respecting the privacy of, say, the newly bereaved, interviewers are seen and heard callously asking questions apparently without a qualm. Any questioning in these circumstances would seem to be extremely difficult to justify in a civilized society, yet a surprising number of people are willing, anxious even, to talk about their tragic experiences, either as a form of mental release or as a genuine attempt to prevent similar misfortunes befalling others.
The ethical considerations implicit in such interviews have become the subject of serious study by academics and bodies such as Victim Support, who make eloquent pleas for treating with respect the people who (without wishing to) provide their subject matter.1 Codes of conduct and other professional guidelines set out to govern the way journalists behave on a voluntary basis, but a number of notorious examples – including the publication of newspaper photographs showing well-known people in compromising or very personal situations – have led to the threat of some statutory restrictions on all the media. The defence of public interest is not always accepted by those outside the media industry.
Certainly some reporters are guilty of overstepping the mark by asking penetrating questions of those still too dazed to comprehend quite what they are saying. But such interviews have long been considered legitimate journalistic practice, and will no doubt remain so. The most that can be asked of television reporters is that they respect the privacy of those who wish it, put their questions with tact and sympathy, and do not demand answers as of right.
The second category of complaint concerns the attitude taken towards the subject being interviewed. A substantial body of opinion exists which takes exception to any form of questioning probing beyond the simple elicitation of facts. This objection is usually framed as a demand to know ‘How dare they ask …’ this or that, or what qualifies the questioner to appear to doubt what he or she is being told (especially when the interviewee is a respected or well-known figure).
At its worst, this technique has been termed ‘trial by television’, and has been most graphically illustrated by programmes, probably not quite so prevalent any more, in which interviewees have been browbeaten into making sometimes damaging personal admissions by relentless questioning bordering on interrogation. A secondary complaint about this kind of television is that the interviewers seem as much concerned with projecting their own egos as in producing serious answers to serious issues.
Perhaps it was only to be expected that the pendulum would swing so far the other way after the bland, deferential questioning general in the early 1950s, when interviewers seemed entirely content with any platitudes uttered by public figures, and shrank from querying the answers, however unenlightening they may have been.2
Figure 9.6 News in action. Reporters and crews form a ‘scrum’ around a subject, in this case the politician John Prescott. Scope for the carefully prepared question barely matters in these circumstances. Crews and reporters, who one moment before had been sharing friendly gossip, suddenly become competitors to get the best shots and the best sound. Questions are shouted out, usually short and simple to get a response. (Photo courtesy of and © Sky Television.)
The precise moment at which a recognizable change of attitude took place is impossible to identify, although many television professionals are convinced it all happened almost half a century ago. This was an interview between Robin Day and President Nasser of Egypt in Cairo for ITN in June 1957. Here was a head of state answering with apparent frankness and sincerity questions which diplomats would probably have hesitated to ask. Read today, the full transcript3 makes the interview seem innocuous enough but at the time it created a real impact on the viewing audience and, unknown to the participants, set a standard for future generations of reporters.
Figure 9.7 A watershed in British television news interviewing. Robin Day was one of the first journalists to treat interviewees more naturally, as equals and with no more deference than they deserve. In this incident in 1957 Robin Day challenged the Japanese Foreign Minister about Japanese engineering, producing some ball-bearings and asking why they resembled an identical British-made product. The interpreter, instead of just translating the question, complained that no advance notice of the question had been received and accused Robin Day of being disrespectful. (Photo courtesy of ITN.)
In all the years since then, attempts have been made to strike a reasonable balance between a persistent, unshakeable seeking after truth and the asking of legitimate questions in a non-truculent manner. However, it is interesting to note that even in some Western democracies hard-edged political interviewing scarcely exists, and it is not unknown for government ministers to seek to influence not only the questions but who the interviewer will be. In Britain, the ‘blackballing’ of a television journalist’s application for membership of a private club was thought to be not entirely unconnected with his famously combative interviewing technique.
At the same time many present-day interviewees are as conversant as the interviewers with the rules of the game. Some are even better at it, because the questions they are being asked are connected with the subjects on which they are experts, and a reporter who is unsure of his or her ground for lack of briefing or any other reason can be made to look very foolish. Really experienced interviewees have the knack of being able to answer any awkward question in a way which suits them, and they can use their knowledge of studio routines and the programmes they are appearing on to make sure that there is no time for dangerous supplementaries. It can be an uncomfortable education to watch an experienced journalist being given the runaround by a wily interviewee who has been through it all before. One of the mistakes inexperienced interviewers can make is to ask two questions rolled into one – the clever interviewee will choose whichever point is easiest to cope with.
It was during the 1980s when interviewees decided they wanted to have their say and refuse to be intimidated by the cameras, studios and the bright lights of the television interview confessional. An early exponent of the art of hijacking an interview for his own aims was Sir James Goldsmith, the millionaire businessman. Goldsmith, who believed that journalists who specialized in business were excessively cynical about people who made money, agreed to a live interview on a BBC current affairs business programme. He totally ignored the questions and instead zipped into a detailed point-by-point criticism of a film they had made about his company. He eventually turned in his chair, produced a typed transcript of the film and threatened to read it out, live on air. Then there was Arthur Scargill, President of the National Union of Mineworkers. As leader of the long-drawn-out coal miners’ strike of 1984–5 he became a pathfinder for other difficult-to-pin-down personalities, laying down the conditions under which he was prepared to do interviews and then, no matter what the question was, sticking doggedly to his prepared line. It was probably the first time since modern television interviewing techniques began that an interviewee exercised such domination over his questioners.
Some in public life go for coaching at television schools created by enterprising business-people, often ex-television professionals themselves. Would-be spokespersons of all types submit themselves to grillings intended to simulate as closely as possible the battleground of the television studio. What to wear, how to behave, whether to accept alcohol before an interview and similarly practical tips often come as part of the training. Other prospective interviewees equip themselves with audio tape recorders, which they place in prominent positions during interviews of all types for use as an insurance against being quoted out of context.
Some interviewers have raised objections to these methods on the grounds that they are designed only to provide the interviewee with enough skill to evade the difficult questions. But ‘media training’ is big business and here to stay and it seems unreasonable for the professional to quibble because the odds (which are nearly always stacked heavily against the inexperienced interviewee) should have become slightly more even. And since the whole object of the exercise is supposed to be to give the viewer a wider knowledge of what is going on in the world, anything which helps an interviewee to achieve that end ought to be welcomed.
The able, intelligent, well-briefed interviewer should always be capable of extracting something worthwhile in the course of reasoned argument. Where there is evidence of evasion, the reporter should not hesitate to pursue, although without bullying. That is ill-mannered, unnecessary, and always counter-productive, since viewers are much more likely to be sympathetic towards anyone they regard as the underdog. Besides, an evasion or point-blank refusal to answer speaks eloquently enough for itself.
The third main area of controversy surrounds the editing of interviews. Politicians and other public figures who appear frequently are well aware that in countries where editorial freedom exists, not all they have to say is going to find its way onto the screen, however important they consider it to be. Even where live contributions are concerned they know there is never likely to be enough time available to go through all the arguments, and are therefore content to try to restrict themselves to making those few main points they consider essential to their platform, in the belief that even minimal exposure to the public is far better than none. They have learned how to construct speeches in a way which directs the journalists to the juiciest sound bites they hope will be most likely to influence the audience. In pre-recorded interviews in the 1990s politicians and people regularly interviewed knew that only a 20 to 25 second clip of what they said would be used, and they responded with that clip in mind. But when 24-hour news services expanded they had to be reminded by their aides that an interview they thought was designed for a small, neat clip (or sound bite) could well end up being broadcast in its entirety on a news channel with plenty of airtime to fill.
It is usually from the interviewee inexperienced in the ways of television that the loudest cries of ‘misrepresentation’ are heard, and there can be only sympathy for those whose parenthetical comments are construed as the real substance and are extracted for use from a recorded interview. In all cases, reporters should make it clear that they are under no obligation to use the whole of an interview, or indeed any of it, and give the subject an opportunity to make out a case in a cogent fashion or withdraw altogether.
Neither should any doubts be left about intended usage. An interviewee has the right to be told of the context in which the contribution is being made, and whether contrary opinions are being sought on the same subject. For although it would be intolerable for journalists to lose the freedom to edit as they think fit, they should be equally jealous in guarding the rights of their interviewees to fair and honest treatment.
Although it is right for those who ask the questions sometimes to be taken to task by their subjects and other critics, it could also be argued that the editorial imperative for conducting interviews is not always thought through in anything like enough detail.
For many programme executives in television news – and radio, with much more airtime to fill, is probably an even greater culprit – the knee-jerk response to a news issue is ‘let’s talk’ to someone. It is often easy to understand why. For instance, a ‘live’ interview has the benefit of being shortened or lengthened during the course of a newscast (a godsend to a hard-pressed editor sweating over the likely appearance or non-appearance of items still being edited for transmission). Yet when the interview has been transmitted, perhaps after considerable effort and expense has been spent on ensuring that the ‘someone’ is brought within range of the reporter/presenter and camera, a certain vague dissatisfaction with the product may linger. Chances are that in that case three fundamental points were overlooked by the editorial team when the interview was being commissioned:
1. Is an interview the best way of proceeding?
2. If so, are we talking to the right person?
3. In that case what do we hope will come out of it?
Quite often, ‘talking to someone’ is simply not appropriate for the story, which can be told more succinctly by the reporter on the spot or the presenter in the studio.
Then comes the question of whether the right person is being approached. Critics of television news grumble about favouritism on the part of editors, and hint at a conspiracy to exclude all but a small band of ‘resident experts’ they have found to speak on various subjects, and whose views are sought regularly and at length. There is no conspiracy. Broadcasting demands its contributors to be articulate, fluent and concise, so it is not surprising that editors prefer the security of performers whose reliability is proven rather than gamble with the untried and step into the unknown. Journalists themselves may rail against ‘rent-a-quote’ politicians and officials, but the onus is on journalists themselves to widen the net. It is fair to say that considerable efforts have been made in some quarters to draw in a more representative sample of ‘expert’ interviewees, women and members of the ethnic communities in particular, but although this approach is to be applauded, going to interview the wrong person for the right reason is counter-productive.
For many interviews, however, the weakest element of the formula is the last. Having decided that an interview is required and the most appropriate person found, reporters are too often unsure what they want from them. ‘What shall I ask you?’ is a question I have heard put anxiously by interviewers, meeting their subject for the first time a few minutes before transmission. It is not a practice likely to inspire confidence. Most interviewees are fully aware that they know more about the topic than the person asking them about it – after all, that is why they are there – but intelligent questions are based on background knowledge, however limited.
The idea is therefore not to begin an interview unless or until some inkling of what will come out of it is clear. Opinion, interpretation or explanation, certainly, but based on proper preparation and not through ‘research’ gathered on screen during the course of the interview.
It may seem a ridiculously obvious thing to say, but reporters must know whom they are questioning. Professional journalists are not immune to nervousness or momentary lapses of memory, so confirm the details in advance and write them clearly on a pad or notebook for immediate reference. In this way it will be possible to avoid the acute embarrassment of having an interviewee preface his or her first answer with a correction of name, rank or title.
Four main forms of news interview
Watch any conventional television news programme and it will quickly become apparent that a great deal of the speech coming from the mouths of contributors is in the form of answers to questions: in other words, interviews. Of course, these may be of such minuscule duration that they barely deserve to qualify for the term, but the point is that for a soundbite answer to be selected, someone has to pose a question in the first place.
Interviews also probably represent the highest proportion of contributions reporters make to news programmes, even though the credits may be given collectively (‘We asked the Foreign Secretary …’) rather than individually (‘Jane Smith asked the Foreign Secretary …’).
Of all the different types seen on the screen, possibly the one in most frequent use currently is the set piece, conducted on the interviewee’s own territory, in some other appropriate setting, or ‘down the line’ from the news studio, for live or recorded transmission. The important thing about the set piece is the presumption it makes of the interviewee’s willingness to participate, allowing for arrangements to be made far enough in advance for the reporter to do some proper homework, including the preparation of questions.
Figure 9.8 Forms of interview. Top: Doorstepping, informal attempts by journalists to extract something worthwhile from newsworthy events. Middle: eyewitness interviews with those able to provide immediate information about events. Bottom: news conferences are a way of dealing with large numbers of questions.
Such luxuries are not normally afforded reporters assigned to eyewitness or spot interviews, where the most important journalistic quality in demand is the speedy rooting out of those who are willing and able to talk about the experience of events which may just have occurred. The questions here are more likely to concern facts rather than opinions.
Much the same can be said of the ‘doorstepper’ interview. This is the form of questioning most loathed by critics of the press and broadcasters who regard it as akin to a journalist burgling someone’s home. They might be interested to know that the reporters hate it too. The reporter waits, perhaps literally on the doorstep of a building (hence the name), in order to snatch a few words, any words, with participants in some newsworthy event. These hit-or-miss affairs have become familiar sights on many a nation’s television screen. In the general scrum all too often associated with these matters, the television reporter may get no further than thrusting the microphone forward to ask such elementary questions as ‘What’s been happening?’ or ‘What’s next?’ in the hope that what may start out as non-committal, even grudging answers may, with perseverance, become proper interviews in which some real information is forthcoming.
Even the refusal to say anything other than ‘no comment’ is often considered worth screening if only to show the manner of rebuff. Some seasoned interviewees are not above turning the doorstep or shouted question to their own advantage. There were recent American presidents who managed to reply to some questions shouted above the noise of that helicopter landing on the White House lawn, but strangely, found themselves unable to hear the more awkward ones. Bill Clinton, and George Bush before him, frequently developed this hearing problem.
This method of interviewing is one stage removed from the vox pop (vox populi), an entertaining if often inconsequential sounding out of opinion among people, members of the public, stopped in the street. The aim is to achieve a cross-section of views or reactions to a specific topic, with each contribution usually boiled down to a few words. The technique calls for the same questions to be put in the same way each time so that the answers may be edited together without the interviewer popping up in between to spoil the flow. They are often in the ‘Do you prefer cats to dogs?’ category, although local news programmes often reflect reasonable public views about more serious subjects, such as a local road scheme or the closure of a factory.
All interviews may be said to be variations on these four broad categories, including the news conferences so beloved of politicians and others. These occasions are usually held to avoid the need for separate interviews, and so take place somewhere large enough to accommodate all the television, radio and print journalists who wish to attend. The numbers are likely to run into hundreds, presenting enormous difficulties for the television news reporter, who may not get the opportunity to put a single question.
At other times, paths may be smoothed by the organizers’ imposition of an advance order of questioning, although this can be taken to extremes, with clever stage-management to ensure that there is time for only ‘friendly’ questions to be taken.
Settings for news conferences, as for many other newsworthy happenings, take the choice of location entirely out of the hands of the reporter and camera-operator. Then it is a matter of making do with whatever site is available, relying on good picture composition and sound quality to make the result as satisfactory as possible.
Far more desirable from the reporter’s point of view is the selection of a background appropriate to the story being told. For example, it makes sense to interview the scientist in the laboratory rather than in front of a plain office wall, to talk to the newspaper editor against a background of newsroom activity, to the shop floor worker on the shop floor, and so on. Relevance should always be the aim.
One word of caution. There is a very fine line between a background of interest and one so absorbing it distracts the viewer from what is being said. Being too clever can also create unexpected problems at the cutting stage. I once chose to locate an interview with the managing director of a motor company on the brow of a hill overlooking the firm’s test track. It was certainly relevant, the cars making a very pleasant sight as they whizzed across from one side of the picture to the other behind the interviewee’s back. Unfortunately, it dawned on us only when reviewing the pictures afterwards that one particularly important editing point coincided with the moment when a car was in motion halfway across the screen, and that a straight edit into a later section of the interview had the effect of making it vanish into thin air. Also, never do an interview with a clock in the background – for the very same reason of continuity.
Although composition of the picture is the responsibility of the camera-operator, it is a poor reporter who allows the subject to be so badly framed that trees or other obstacles appear to be growing out of the interviewee’s head. On one occasion a serious interview was reduced to near farce when it was discovered, too late, that what was an apparently ideal background of ornamental swords hung horizontally on the wall behind the interviewee had wholly unexpected results when seen on the two-dimensional television screen. A long, heavy blade appeared to protrude from the side of the subject’s neck, and what made it all the more fascinating was that he did not seem to notice.
Most journalists have had considerable experience as interviewers before they move to television, but there is a vast difference between the casual questioning which takes place in the quiet corner of a pub or over the telephone, and the paraphernalia of camera, lights and technicians.
The newspaper journalist is able to phrase the questions in a conversational, informal manner, interjecting now and again to clarify a point, jotting down answers with pen and notebook, or simply sitting back to let a portable audio recorder take the strain. Questions and answers need not be grammatical or follow a logical pattern. The same ground may be gone over and over again. If either participant has a cleft palate, stutter or some other speech impediment, no matter. The printed page on which the interview appears does not communicate that fact to the reader without the writer deliberately choosing to do so.
The passage of time and the advances in technology have done nothing to change the belief that in television journalistic judgement and writing ability alone are not enough. Another piece of advice from the past that has not changed came from Sir Geoffrey Cox, editor of ITN back in the 1950s. He identified the significant differences between the two forms of interview. It remains as true now as it was then:
The best newspaperman will often take plenty of time stalking around his subject, taking up minor points before he comes to his main question, noting a fact here, or an emphasis there, and then sifting out his material later when he sits down at the typewriter. But the television journalist is forced to get to the point at once, as bluntly and curtly as is practicable. His questions must also be designed to produce compact answers, for although film can be cut, it cannot be compressed.4
Another, still relevant, piece of advice came from Michael Parkinson, an experienced practitioner in both newspaper and television interviewing. He put it rather more forcefully, describing the newspaper or magazine interview as ‘child’s play’, compared with that for television. The modern generation of journalist-interviewers, called upon increasingly to display their talents live into newscasts, would no doubt agree with his broad sentiments:
A three-hour chat over lunch, a carefully written, honed and edited piece and the journalist has created something beyond the reach of any interviewer on television who tries to do his job without the luxury of being able to shape his material after the event. One is instant journalism, the other retrospective. It is the difference between riding bareback and sitting astride a rocking horse.’5
Not every television interviewer would put it as baldly as that, but it is undoubtedly true that the screen interview of any type makes considerably more demands on the person conducting it. The essential qualities include an ability to think quickly to follow up topics outside any originally planned structure of the interview, and a capacity to marshal the thoughts in a way which builds up logical, step-by-step answers.
Each interview, however brief, is capable of taking on a recognizable shape. Questions which are sprayed in all directions as topics are chosen at random make the live interview difficult to follow and the recorded one doubly difficult to edit intelligently. In any case ‘the office’ would much prefer to select a chunk of two or three questions and answers which follow a rational pattern. Apart from that there is the waste of time involved in asking questions which have no real relevance to the occasion. The same goes for any attempt to produce a relaxed atmosphere by lobbing one or two innocuous ‘warm up’ questions at the beginning. Tape may be cheap and reusable, but no useful journalistic purpose is served.
The phrasing of questions also needs to be considered carefully. Too many inexperienced reporters, rather fond of the sound of their own voices early on in their careers, have a tendency to make long, rambling statements barely recognizable as questions at all. Aping the established ‘names’ whose deliberately long-winded approach is their trade-mark is not to be encouraged. Nor is the ‘portmanteau’, in which two or three questions are wrapped up in one. Inexperienced interviewees will be unsure which to answer, while seasoned campaigners will seize on the ones which suit them best and ignore the rest.
Much the same principle applies to broad questions of the ‘meaning of life’ variety. General questions tend to produce lengthy, wide-ranging answers, so it is better to focus on and follow through a narrowish line of questioning.
At the other extreme are the brusque, two- or three-word interjections which, apart from anything else, do not register on the screen long enough if faithfully repeated as cut-aways.
Next come the cliché questions. My favourite remains
‘How/what do you feel about …?’
a question which almost cries out for a rude answer. Others which crop up all too frequently include:
‘Just what/how serious …?’
‘What of the future …?’
Then there is the tendency to preface virtually every question with some deferential phrase or other which is presumably meant to soften up the interviewee:
‘May I ask …?’
‘Do you mind my asking …?’
‘What do you say to …?’
‘Could you tell me …?’
‘Might I put it like this …?’
each of which invites curt rejection. Shooting straight from the hip has its drawbacks, of course. Without proper care, questions which are too direct are quite likely to produce a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ without further elaboration:
‘Is it true you’ve resigned because of a personal disagreement with the Prime Minister?’
‘Is there any chance you might return to the government in the future?’
‘Have you decided what you are going to do now?’
If the television news interview is to be of any value at all, the questions must be constructed more skilfully, in ways designed to draw out positive replies:
‘What do you say to reports you’ve resigned because of a personal disagreement with the Prime Minister?’
‘How would things have to change before you would consider returning to the government?’
‘What are you planning to do now?’
Be sure, though, you are on safe ground when using such phrases as ‘… reports you’ve resigned because …’. Too many interviewers treat people-are-saying media speculation as fact and incorporate it into questions which are easily brushed aside. What they really mean is ‘I think …’ but lack the knowledge, or the ‘bottle’, to say so.
As for general demeanour when asking the questions, interviewers should not allow themselves to be overawed in the presence of the important or powerful, or overbearing when the subject of the interview is unused to television. As (Sir) Robin Day put it in a ten-point code of conduct for interviewers he first suggested in 1961 and found just as relevant nearly 40 years later:
a television interviewer is not employed as a debater, prosecutor, inquisitor, psychiatrist or third-degree expert, but as a journalist seeking information on behalf of the viewer.6
Sometimes, in seeking that information from an agreeable and fluent interviewee, it is tempting to try out the questions in a ‘dry run’ without the camera. That is a mistake. No journalist should compromise him or herself by submitting questions in advance, unless that is a condition of agreement to an appearance. Second, an interview based on known questions is almost certain to lack any feeling of spontaneity. Third, even the most apparently loquacious people are inclined to ‘talk themselves out’ during a formal try-out, becoming tongue-tied when the real thing begins. So while a brief discussion about the general scope of an interview is a sensible preliminary, any full-scale rehearsal should be eschewed.
It is all very well for the reporter to ask the questions the average member of the public would dearly love the opportunity to put. Actually coping with the answers poses a problem by itself.
The experienced politician is quite capable of turning aside the most difficult question with a disarming smile and a reference to the interviewer by first name. The others who are adept at ignoring questions and going on with their prepared answers can be ‘chased’ with repetition until they are caught or their evasions become obvious. But the reporter’s real troubles begin when he or she does not listen to the answers.
This is by no means as uncommon as it may seem. The pressure on a questioner conducting an interview can be almost as great if not greater than on the interviewee, and it is all too easy to concentrate on mentally ticking off a list of prepared questions instead of listening, poised to follow up with an occasional supplementary. If the reporter’s concentration wavers, any number of obvious loose ends may remain untied. Ideally, it should be possible to forget the camera and the rest of it, relying on sound journalistic instinct to take over.
Jumping in too soon with a new question before the interviewee has finished could seem rude to the subject as well as producing an ugly overlap of voices which may also be uneditable if the interview is being recorded. When an interruption is necessary, it is better to wait until the subject pauses for breath or the inflection of the voice is downwards. If the question is genuinely misunderstood, the reply halting, gobbledygook or off course in some other way, the reporter is well advised to call out ‘cut’ to stop the camera, so the problem can be discussed before restarting the interview. This is far more sensible than stumbling through to the bitter end and hoping there will be enough time left to try all over again.
The set-piece interview, step by step
As an example of the way a typical set-piece interview might be conducted, consider the sequence of actions taken in this imaginary question and answer session in the third-floor office of a government economics adviser. Assume that both participants have been adequately briefed. Time is important, as the reporter has an early-evening programme deadline to meet, and the adviser has to leave for the airport within half an hour.
Step 1: setting up
The office is of medium size, the furniture consisting of a large desk with a swivel chair behind it, one easy chair and a coat stand. The only natural light comes from a single window overlooking a main road and heavy traffic. On this occasion the camera equipment, having been manhandled from the lift a few yards away, now litters the floor. The camera-operator unstraps the legs of the tripod and sets up opposite but slightly to the left and in front of the interviewee’s chair about three metres away. The camera is slid on to the base plate fitted to the tripod head and locked firmly into place, the camera-operator consulting the built-in spirit level to ensure that the camera is level. The reporter gets a chair from an outer office and places it about a metre to the left and in front of the camera. Having found the office power socket outlet, the camera-operator puts up two 800 watt lights. Both are on stands which are extended to their full height so the lamp heads can be angled towards the participants without blinding them. One becomes the ‘key’ light behind the reporter’s chair, the second, the back light, is positioned out of shot, over the interviewee’s shoulder, ‘barn-doored’ to keep the light off the camera lens.
Figure 9.9 Typical office setting for a one-plus-one set-piece interview for television news.
This, then, is the classic interview set-up, with the camera in position as the observer of a discussion between two people. But as it will concentrate entirely on the interviewee, compensation has to be made for any impression that no one else is in the room. For this reason, as the lens looks over the reporter’s shoulder, it frames the subject in three-quarter full face, slightly off-centre, making him look across the empty side of the screen towards the questioner. Moving the camera more to the left would have the interviewee looking directly into the lens, suggesting a party political broadcast or some sort of appeal. More to the right would produce a full profile, making him look out of the picture – television’s equivalent of allowing the subject of an end-column newspaper photograph to look out of the page. The height of the camera is set so that the camera-operator’s view is 50–80 mm above the subject’s line of sight (eyeline). Going below the eyeline and looking up has a distorting effect.
Figure 9.10 Positioning the camera correctly and unobtrusively will enhance the value of any interview. Poor placement will detract. The classic position (see Figure 9.9) has the camera looking towards the subject over the interviewer’s shoulder (a). The interviewee is framed in three-quarter full face, so both eyes can be seen, and looks towards the questioner, not the lens. The subject should be set slightly to one side (b) looking slightly across the empty side of the frame. Too square framing (c) suggests a ‘party political’ or other direct appeal to the audience. A profile shot (d) has the subject looking out of frame, making the audience feel excluded. The camera height (e) should be set to give the operator a view two or three inches above the subject’s eye-line.
The two main characters emerge from an outer office where they have had a brief talk about the area the interview is intended to cover, although the reporter has been careful not to go into detail about the questions. As they settle into their seats, the camera-operator attaches a tiny microphone to the clothing of each person. Now, with the recording cable plugged into its socket at the back of the camera, the camera-operator asks each participant in the interview for a burst of ‘level’ to ensure that both voices are heard at equal strength. Traffic noise from the street three floors below is minimal thanks to the window blind, but the sound of the telephone ringing intrudes through the thin office wall. It is probably the reporter who asks the secretary next door to ensure that any calls which would interrupt are diverted to another extension.
The reporter refers again to the questions scribbled on his notepad and switches on the tiny audio cassette recorder he has brought along. The camera-operator checks that a fresh video cassette has been inserted into the camera, switches on to the VTR stand-by position, gives the focus on the 14:1 zoom lens a final tweak, checks the automatic exposure, and takes one last look around the room to ensure that everything is properly in position.
Step 3: interview in progress
‘Quiet please’, calls the camera-operator. A second or so later he flicks the switch to start the recording, checking to ensure that the tape is beginning to roll from the cassette. For the first six or seven seconds he records what is known as an establishing two-shot, taking in the back of the reporter’s head, the interviewee and the top of the desk, to show the respective positions of the two people taking part. As long as the interviewee has been warned not to speak at this stage, the two-shot can be dropped in by the picture editor over any of the questions, or used as a means of joining separate chunks of interview neatly. This shot complete, the camera-operator now frames the interviewee on his own, calling out ‘action’, ‘running’, or simply ‘go ahead’ as a cue for the reporter to begin asking his questions.
As a typical news interview is rarely longer than six or seven questions, the camera-operator goes through his usual sequence of shots, using the zoom lens to give a pleasing visual variation and to aid swift editing later on. He does this without stopping the camera or the interview, but makes sure any movement is made only during the questions, otherwise editing would be more difficult. He holds the first two questions and answers in a steady medium shot, from the waist up. As the third question is being asked he tightens to a medium close-up of the head and shoulders.
At this point, with the digital time-code display on the camera showing that 6 minutes 45 seconds of tape have been used, the reporter calls out, ‘Cut!’ The camera-operator switches off, and turns off the lights which have made the room rather warm. The interviewee is disconnected from the microphone lead, shakes hands all round, excuses himself and prepares to depart for the airport roughly ten minutes earlier than he expected.
Step 4: cut-away questions
Now comes the time to complete the cut-aways or reverses. Because only one camera was being used, the shots during the interview were concentrated on the subject, so the reporter now has to repeat his questions for possible use by the picture editor. It is a method of bridging different sections and inserting the interviewer in a way which looks smooth on the screen, but it is a device which has fallen into disfavour with some news services, which prefer to ‘jump cut’ between portions to show that interviews are edited.
Figure 9.11 Varying the shot. A straightforward news interview is likely to be based on three pictorial elements: a two-shot of both subjects to set the scene and a medium close-up and close-up of the interviewee. ‘Reverse angles’ of the interviewer will be shot later (see Figure 9.12).
Cutaways are carried out in two ways: the reporter can play back the conversation as recorded on his or her own audio machine, or ask the camera-operator to rewind the tape and replay interview sound and picture through the camera viewfinder. The aim in either case is to ensure that the questions follow both the phrasing and tone of the original. On this occasion the reporter settles for his audio tape recorder, and jots down the information he needs alongside some of the original notes he made as a guideline before the interview.
Figure 9.12 Where interviews are conducted with a single camera, as on most news stories, reverse angle shots are sometimes used to ‘insert’ the reporter at the editing stage as a way of bridging sections neatly. Correct repositioning of both camera and interviewer is essential, or the questioner may appear to be looking in the same direction as the interviewee and not towards them. The camera operator’s rule: the ear the camera sees during the interview (a) must be the same one the camera sees in the cut-away (b).
The camera-operator now has to concentrate on the face of the reporter, which he was unable to do during the course of the interview, and it means moving either the subject or the camera to a new position. The camera-operator concludes that in this case it is simpler to ask the reporter to move his chair and to adjust the lighting accordingly. Now he re-focuses, taking great care to ensure the eyeline is correct by keeping the camera at the same height as before. To help the picture editor put the interviewer accurately into the edited story, the camera-operator follows the simple rule he made for himself years earlier: the ear the camera saw during the interview proper must be the same ear the camera sees in the cut-away questions. Getting it wrong would create an impression of interviewer and subject looking in the same direction instead of at each other.
As an extra insurance, the interviewer is framed throughout in a medium shot, so wherever the cut-away appears the reporter will seem to complement and not dominate the subject. The questions themselves follow the original sequence. Although they are now being asked of no one the reporter tries hard to recreate the spontaneity of the interview which took place a few minutes earlier, taking the opportunity to tidy up one or two insignificant grammatical errors. After each of the cut-aways he looks down at his pad to refresh his memory, pausing deliberately for two or three seconds before asking the next question. He knows if he speaks while still looking down at his notes the picture editor will be unable to use the shot.
To finish, the reporter does several ‘noddies’, understated movements of the head to simulate reactions as they might have occurred at various points during the interview. These serve the same purpose as the questions, acting as bridges between edited sections, but reporters generally seem unable to carry them out with much conviction, and so the technique fell into disuse in the late 1990s. There is also a feeling among newspeople that in some interviews the inclusion of a ‘noddy’ might create the impression that the reporter was agreeing with what was being said. As an alternative, camera-operators sometimes record ‘steady listening shots’, of an attentive but otherwise immobile reporter and, when time allows, a close-up listening shot of the subject is also added to give the picture editor maximum choice of material.
Although it is possible to record or transmit live a typical studio interview between two people using two cameras, or at a pinch only one, most studio directors would prefer to use three, one concentrating on each participant and the third to provide the variety of a two-shot.
Figure 9.13 Live studio interviews in news programmes offer flexibility and the opportunity for more sophisticated production than can be achieved using a single camera on location. Many studio directors will have access to three cameras – one concentrating on a medium close-up/close-up of the interviewer, one concentrating on a medium close-up/close-up of the interviewee, and the third for a two-shot. With careful planning it would also be possible to move cameras one and two during the interview to provide pleasing ‘over the shoulder’ variations.
As parts of newscasts rather than as programmes in their own right, live interviews have the merit of being malleable. Those which are not getting anywhere can be savagely shortened. Good ones can be allowed to continue at the expense of other items dropped during transmission. Then there are some producers who, without much regard to quality, will happily tailor their interviews to fit whatever odd spaces remain in their programmes, and there are still more who have cause to be thankful for the interviews which are able to fill a void created by a sudden breakdown in another technical area.
The satisfaction of those conducting any one of these battles of wit is that the outcome depends on the judgement and ability of the interviewer alone, and has to stand without the benefit of editing after the event. The techniques required are generally no different from those used in other types of interview, except that the questioner probably needs to be more mentally alert than ever, and deeper briefing and preparation are necessary to ensure there is no drying up.
The one extra skill which has to be developed is a sense of timing. The interview must not be so hurried that there is nothing left to say and still some of the allocated time to spare. Neither must there be such dalliance over the first part that important ground remains to be covered and the interviewee has to be cut short in full flight.
Various timings are given by the studio gallery as the interview proceeds, the most crucial time being the final minute. The interviewer has an ear tube through which timings are provided by the director, the programme editor or the production assistant. The final ten seconds are counted down separately. On zero, it is time to say something like: ‘Well, we must end it there.’ The most experienced interviewers are really adept at this timing exercise, able to wring the very last ounce of value from their interviews right up to the dying seconds.
Modern studio techniques may also link the studio director (and through him or her the programme editor/producer) in the control room to the interviewer in the studio through the earpiece. In this way instructions about timing as well as editorial matters can be given direct. Some presenters and reporters like to use this system throughout live newscasts, preferring the babble in the control room to the isolation they would otherwise feel. They say they are not distracted by the general background noise and can easily pick out instructions meant for them.
Figure 9.14 ‘Down-the-line’ interviewing, linking the journalist in the studio with an interviewee elsewhere, has become a routine element in many television news services.
The growing popularity of ‘live’ news interviews has seen a corresponding increase in a production technique which keeps the interviewer in the studio while the subject is elsewhere. The main difficulty this ‘down-the-line’ interview style presents is that more often than not the journalist is unable to see the person being interviewed, even though their image may appear to the viewer to be in shot. This is done electronically, and means the interviewer has to turn to face wherever the subject seems to be.
Making any interview seem realistic while looking at a blank studio wall can be very awkward for the inexperienced to master, especially without any rehearsal. There are occasions when extra monitors can be placed on the desk to enable real visual contact to be established (although the interviewee is very unlikely to be able to see the questioner) but this calls for the setting up of additional shots on the studio cameras and at some stage during the newscast the equipment will probably have to be removed.
1. Victims Twice Over (1992). A report by Victim Support on treatment of victims of crime by the media.
2. Michael Cockerell (1989). Live from Number 10: The Inside Story of Prime Ministers and Television, Faber and Faber.
3. Sir Robin Day (1993). … But with Respect, Weidenfeld and Nicolson.
4. The Daily Telegraph, 7 July 1958.
5. The Sunday Times, 15 December 1974.
6. (Sir) Robin Day (1962). Television, A Personal Report, Hutchinson; (1993). … But with Respect, Weidenfeld and Nicolson.