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TRANSCRIPT
Title:
The Missing Puzzle: Birth of a Format
By Ivo Burum
BA (Deakin University); BA (AFTRS); Dip Ed (La Trobe University)
A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree
of Master of Arts (Research)
Film and Television Production: Creative Industries (FTV)
Queensland University of Technology
2008
Supervisors:
Ass Prof Geoff Portmann, Helen Yeates
ii
Abstract
The art of storytelling is one of the oldest forms of creative
discourse. Apart from finding stories, the most important job in
television is the construction of stories to have a broad audience
appeal.
This first-hand review of Missing Persons Unit, hereafter referred to
as MPU, a prime time program on the Nine Network in Australia with
immense audience appeal, is an original work by the executive
producer (development and series producer Series One, executive
producer Series Two and Three) based on an overview of two-and-
a-half years of production on three series.
Through a case study approach, this Masters project explores how
story is constructed into a television format. The thesis comprises
two parts: the creative component (weighted 50%) is demonstrated
through two programs of MPU (one program for evaluation) and the
academic component through a written exegesis (50%).
This case study aims to demonstrate how observational hybrid
series such as MPU can be managed to quick turn-around
schedules with precise skill sets that cut across a number of
traditional genre styles.
iii
With the advent of radio and then television, storytelling found a
home and a series of labels called genres to help place them in a
schedule for listeners and viewers to choose. Over recent years,
with the advent of digital technology and the rush to collect the
masses of content required to feed the growing television slate,
storytelling has often been replaced by story gathering.
Today even in factual series where a clear story construct is
important, third party ‘quick fix’ specialists are hired to shape raw
content shot by a field team, who never put their own work together
and may never come into the edit suite during a project.
This thesis explores the art of storytelling in fast turn-around
television. In particular it explores the layer cake approach used in
the production process of MPU, that enables producers of fast turn-
around television to shepherd their own stories from field through to
post-production.
While each new hybrid series will require its own particular sets of
skills, the exploration of the genesis of MPU will demonstrate the
building blocks required to successfully produce this type of factual
series. This study is also intended as a ‘road map’ for producers
who wish to develop similar series.
iv
Acknowledgments:
I’d like to thank Helen Yeates who played a pivotal role in helping
shape this thesis. Her torch-like notes provided a clear focus that
helped wade the dark shoreline between turbulent academic waters
and the more manageable and familiar practical world, which I
understand.
I’d like to thank Associate Professor Geoffrey Portmann for his
support throughout my research and writing process. As a television
practitioner himself, Geoff was a welcome sounding board
throughout this cathartic process.
Interviews and conversations conducted for this thesis represent a
cross section of people in a variety of production roles involved with
the development and production of the series. Their support and
knowledge was crucial to the thesis and I thank them for their time. I
would like to thank the following people for allowing me to use their
contributions: Justine Ford, Meni Caroutas, Marcos Moro, John
Gregory, Peter Abbott, Chris O’Mara, John McAvoy, Art Phillips, Jeff
Lowrey, Inspector Amanda Calder, Snr Sgt Amanda Gayle and Snr
Sgt Garry Bailey.
In particular I’d like to thank Freehand TV for giving me the
opportunity to make MPU and the support to build it into the type of
program it was.
v
Statement of Original Authorship:
“The work contained in this thesis has not been previously submitted
to meet requirements for an award at this or any other higher
education institution. To the best of my knowledge and belief, the
thesis contains no material previously published or written by
another person except where due reference is made.”
Name: Ivo Burum
Signature:
Date: 19 January 2009
vi
Contents:
Front Page i
Abstract ii
Acknowledgement iv
Statement of Authorship v
Contents vi
Chapter 1: Introduction 1
1.1 Methodology 8
Chapter 2: Historical Review of Literature 18
2.1 Interpreting the real – from Documentary to reality 19
2.2 Defining Genre, Style and story 33
2.3 Television: The new style guru 38
2.4 Television Business: Defining truth and documentary 41
2.5 The birth of the modern format 46
2.6 Reality in the lounge room 51
Chapter 3: Missing Persons Unit Production 60
3.1 The Concept: Development and early change 62
3.2 Operational Orders: The first police grid of control 73
3.3 Giving birth to a format: A working Model beyond NSWPOL 79
3.4 Production style and story overview 92
3.5 Skills Overview: Building a team that works 97
3.6 Story type and filming overview 107
3.7 Filming specifics 111
Chapter 4: Missing Persons Unit Post Production 117
4.1 Offline Edit 120
4.2 Compile Edit 124
vii
4.3 Narration 128
4.4 Music 135
Chapter 5. Practical Evidence 141
Chapter 6: Summary and recommendations 164
Bibliography 174
Interviews 179
Television Programs 180
Websites 180
1
Chapter 1: Introduction
There is no denying that television production in the digital age has
changed and new technologies have delivered a paradigm shift in
the way we think about program development, production and
delivery platforms. For people in the industry, the choice of content,
style and how we finance projects is redefined in new hybrid forms
almost every time someone picks up a camera. Missing Persons
Unit, the highest premiering and continual rating documentary series
in Australia television history1
MPU is indirectly the result of new digital technology. From as far
back as the early 90’s, access to low cost digital technology and the
experimentation that followed, resulted in vibrant millennium
schedules featuring new hybrid program forms. This ‘new wave’ of
program development, essentially and sometimes a rush of raw,
untrained enthusiasm driven by an access to technology, often
marginalised the craft of storytelling in favour of experimentation.
McKee in his seminal book Story tells us that, ‘the art of story is in
decay, and as Aristotle observed twenty three hundred years ago,
, is an example of one of these new
hybrid forms. This thesis, exploring the birth and subsequent
development of the MPU format, is a case study based on an
original work (production) by the author over a two and a half year
production cycle.
1 Film Finance Corp statistics (2006) MPU was part funded by FFC
2
when storytelling goes bad, the result is decadence’. 2
Many practitioners agree with McKee who believes that ‘today’s
would-be writers rush to the typewriter without first learning the
craft’.
3 Like McKee, I see the demise of storytelling as a decadent
bludgeoning of the craft, not only as far as writing goes but also with
respect to producing and directing. I see an ill-considered tendency
in some of today’s producers and directors who pick up small DV
(digital) cameras and begin shooting immediately. Some senior
television executives view this shift as a redefining moment in a new
era of television production, which is delivering a diversification of
content and style resulting in a proliferation of programs like Big
Brother, Biggest Loser, Survivor, The Bachelor, Australian Princess.
Such largely voyeuristic reality shows, watched by people possibly
seeking enjoyment and entertainment, play on the audience’s
longing for a reaffirmation of their own status in life. 4
MPU is born of this growing public appetite for a certain kind of
voyeurism, which encompasses the notion of looking at a mirror on
personal possibilities. A modern day hybrid ‘child’, conceived from
the coupling of reality and observational styles, MPU is the more
manageable format-driven, fast turn-around offspring, which I call
‘obserality’. MPU plays out in an environment where unscripted
2 McKee, Robert (1999:13) 3 Ibid (1999:15) 4 Steven Reiss, James Wiltz, (2004)
3
actions are observed as police and families react to real inputs.
Even though there is no prize for the winner and the ‘reality’ is not a
Big Brother construct, MPU is a form of observational reality, with a
degree of the cinematic truth of observational documentary,
packaged around the evolving structure of an existing and
developing reality. McKee adds that ‘story isn’t a flight from reality
but a vehicle that carries us on our search for reality, our best effort
to make sense out of anarchy of existence’. 5
MPU blends an array of advanced storytelling techniques to cover
actuality and edit content in a dramatic fashion. The style has
become an acknowledged winner both with viewers, who love the
‘hanging drama’ (the unresolved cliffhanger stories), and with
network executives who love the viewers. John McAvoy, Head of
Factual Television at Nine believes that ‘one of the main advantages
of having a returning show for the schedule is that you know where it
sits and you know that it’s popular’.
Essentially, this was
the philosophy driving the development of MPU: a complex hybrid
form of storytelling involving real events that explore tragedy in
everyday life, using story and strong narrative to construct gritty
actuality into a format.
6
5 McKee, Robert, (1999:12)
Like all the popular reality
programs, the format of MPU enabled Nine to pre-sell time against
proven results designed to hold audience share during and after a
break. This study explores how that format was developed and how
6 McAvoy, John (2008) Interview
4
it worked.
Case studies such as this are often seen as prime examples of
qualitative research, a mode of investigation that adopts an
interpretive approach to data (information): studies ‘things’ within
their context and considers the subjective meanings that people
bring to their situation. 7
My research is work-based, and while it is not immediately about
supposed ‘good’ or ‘bad’ practice, the success of a show is so often
about eliminating what could be termed bad, ineffectual practice.
Moreover, because television development and production is inexact
and subjective at best, this thesis does not identify a real
organisational problem or issue. However, it does address a
management or team building aspect integral to work-based
research, which is as critical as any creative consideration in
television. Like work-based research, the aim of this thesis is to
arrive at useable observations and recommendations, which are at
least capable of being implemented
I contend that the key aspect of any
methodology is its relevance to the investigation. Therefore I
decided on the mixed method research approach.
8
7 Clough, Peter & Nutbrown, Cathy (2006:17).
in the further development of
the format and/or style.
8 Hart, Chris (2006:128)
5
This thesis is also part of the action research ‘family’, a form of
enquiry that enables practitioners to investigate and evaluate their
work: what am I doing…what do I need to improve and how do I
improve it? 9 Much of the work of the production team (myself
included) follows an action research model at some point in the
production cycle. It is, technically, research done on the job by
practitioners (people from the inside) and can be part of the ongoing
creative and managerial project assessment, that provides an
update on and new methods for moving forward. ‘Is my/our work
going as we wish? How do we improve it where necessary?’ 10
As the executive producer, I work on all elements from the outside;
overseeing all work. What are those people doing? How can their
practice be described, explained or improved? The impetus to
resolve these questions puts me back on the inside with the creative
team, where I determine what the collective is doing and how best
we can describe these actions.
In the participatory and collaborative environment of a production
team, where on-the-job training is common practice, action-based
research is an essential background element continuing at various
levels, without ever being defined or articulated fully. Action
research is the crucial trial and error ‘basket’ of television
9 McNiff, Jean & Whitehead, Jack (2006:7) 10 (ibid) (2006:8)
6
development and production.
While much of my research stems from on-the-job learned
experience, I have also critically referenced here, relevant
comparative thinking in the field. My review of literature is not
immediately designed to identify previous strategies, because, as
with any new form of television, MPU requires its own distinctive set
of strategies. This is not to say that the MPU style is unique today,
as I began interlacing stories in the 90’s in Australian observational
programs like Home Truths (ABC 1994) 11 and again with Nurses
(ABC 1999).12
The MPU production process is discussed in this study around a
structure that tracks the process from development to delivery, and
includes interviews with key players: CEO Freehand; Director
Production Freehand, Head Factual Nine Network; New South
Wales Police (NSWPOL), key production and post- production
personnel.
Hence my review of literature sets an historical
context, explaining how, over the last half-century, developments in
technology resulted in a global proliferation of hybrid styles,
influenced my work and led to the creation of MPU.
This thesis will demonstrate how traditional storytelling skills marry
different program genres and directing styles within formats, to
11 Home Truths (1994) Television Series; Australian Broadcast Corporation 12 Nurses (1999) Television Series; Australian Broadcast Corporation
7
create strong narrative that travels across traditionally restrictive
genre-defined slates. Driven by the production milestones of MPU,
the study is framed by the exploration of the following interlinked
research questions:
• How and why are certain content ideas developed into
program formats?
• What are the program-making skills needed to meet
production imperatives?
• Is content compromised during development, collection
and transformation across grids of control?
• What is the impact of a third party narrative and music
and does it transform record into representation?
• What is a developmental way forward for future
program makers?
Alfred North Whitehead sums up the key issue confronting
producers with his provocative statement: ‘It is the business of the
future to be dangerous’. 13
13 Angel, Jerome (2001:160)
As the business of television itself
appears to be confronting even more ‘choppy waters’, my aim is that
this study will provide a user-friendly framework for designing
production methodologies, as well as a theoretical underpinning for
formulating an aesthetic and a personal view about this style of
production, especially when, to extend the metaphor, the tides
become creatively dangerous.
8
1.1 Methodology
More specifically, this thesis explores the craft of storytelling in
factual television and in particular its application in a fast turn-
around, hybrid observational-type program, such as MPU. Labeled
as a form of reality at pre-production, MPU’s narrative story structure
saw its being reviewed under the traditional factual observational
documentary banner. This is the element I consider is mostly
missing in modern hybrid formats and, arguably, is the key to solving
the dramatic structure puzzle.
I have chosen my research topic linked with my creative practice,
because I rarely have the opportunity to reflect on ‘how and why I do
what I do’ in the television business. While I have taught many
young directors and producers how to find and construct story in
different styles of production, this thesis gives me the opportunity to
articulate and question the ‘practical’.
As the executive producer of MPU and other projects, I have often
wondered whether, as a participator, I was too personally involved to
investigate objectively, that which is essentially my work. However,
McNiff and Whitehead in All you want to know about Action
Research, make the salient point that ‘you are not a spectator
democrat…but an activist democrat who is prepared to make
statements about what your work is about and how it can best serve
9
the interests of others.’ 14
An increasing shift toward arts-based research has raised complex
questions, such as how to evaluate its quality and even whether
distinctions exist between ‘what is art’ and ‘what is research’. As the
physical sciences begin to recognise that the natural world works
not so much through cause and effect, as through relationships and
connections
This comment is made in an educational
context, and while there is little that is ‘democratic’ in the upward
referral system of fast turn-around television, McNiff and
Whitehead’s statement applies equally to the role of the TV
executive producer, who is always creative and educational. As an
active democrat in my professional practice, I present this study as a
critical analysis and clarification of how the construct of MPU was
designed to serve many different masters, this amounting to an
ironic juggling act of practice and control.
15
In a television environment, evaluation occurs daily; and it does, as
expected, bring about a quick implementation of the changes that
this kind of evaluation might suggest. Evaluation in the television
context, as in other creative disciplines, is rarely neutral: ‘different
people prioritise different values…Evaluation processes are always
, which is also the essence of the workings of any
television series, we are better able to understand and evaluate arts-
based research.
14 McNiff, Jean, Whitehead, Jack (2006:65) 15 (ibid 2006: 69)
10
politically constituted and involve the exercise of power’. 16
As this thesis is based on original research - a case study, work
practice, interviews and unstructured observation - a methodology
had to be devised that would not deliver a statistical statement, but
rather a clearly articulated ‘diagram’ of the controls and skills
required to find a balance between what the Network initially
commissioned, what the production company believe they can
deliver, and what police will allow the team to film. In an attempt to
achieve this, and in keeping with usual qualitative research practice,
as mentioned earlier, I have chosen a multi-method approach, with
an aim to discover a more complete, yet more subtle understanding,
Network
priorities shift according to internal politics and audience research.
The evaluation of quality and effectiveness by network management
is ultimately a measure of daily ratings. The production company
has its own budgetary and delivery imperatives, and company
managers make evaluations and decisions accordingly. The
executive producer has his/ her own vested interests to meet
deadlines and agreed creative standards. Each of these key creative
areas of the production cycle may evaluate the same project
completely differently. Thus, in any arts-based research project,
evaluation will largely be subjective and specifically relevant to the
particular player in the cycle.
16 (ibid 2006:69)
11
enabling more varied and appropriate methods in specific situations.
For the past thirty years, my work has been, in effect, a continual
research process into how to improve my practice. Therefore, in
developing my approach when commencing this particular study, I
spent the production period of Series One, Two and Three (please
refer to attached DVDs) documenting production milestones, and
these findings form the major part of this exegesis. To contexualise
my development as a television program maker during this period, I
have placed my work in an historical context, to show how a shift in
technology led both to hybrid programs and to my distinctly
personal/professional style of production. This historical context
section is dealt with by reviewing literature on factual production,
specifically the transference of factual programming from cinema to
television, and the move from documentary to the hybrid forms we
now call reality.
I have chosen to include in the study a number of interviews with
key players on MPU. Atkinson and Silverman believe we live in an
interview society 17 and because the interview has become ‘as much
a product of social dynamic as it is a product of accurate accounts
and replies (it) has become a routine, almost unnoticed, part of
everyday life’. 18
17 Atkinson, P., & Silverman, D (1997)
Interviewing in a structured or unstructured way, for
18 Fontana, Andrea & Frey James, (2000:647}
12
varied purposes, in order to describe, to interrogate, to assist, to
test, to evaluate, is a part of every day life in the 21st century.
However it is still surprising how difficult it can be to encourage an
interviewee to speak candidly, or to speak at all. To achieve this
requires deft skill, familiarity with subject and an array of interview
styles appropriate to the situation.
Hence I have chosen to vary my interview style to reflect my
understanding of the person being interviewed. Like Schwandt, I see
the interview ‘more as a discourse between two or more speakers or
as a linguistic event in which the meanings of questions and
responses are contextually grounded and jointly constructed by
interviewer and respondent’. 19
Researchers are not invisible, neutral entities, rather, they are
part of the interactions they seek to study and influence those
interactions…There is a growing realisation that interviewers
are not the mythical, neutral tools envisioned by survey
research. Interviewers are increasingly seen as interactive
participants in interactions with respondents, and interviews
are seen as negotiated accomplishments of both interviewers
and respondents that are shaped by the contexts and
situations in which they take place.
Interviews are gathered in a context
and therefore cannot be deemed to be totally objective with ‘no
strings attached’:
20
19 Schwandt, T.A. (1997) 20 Fontana, Andrea & Frey James, (2000:663)
13
This statement by Fontana and Frey implies that certain types of
interviews are better suited to particular kinds of situations. This
reality shapes the interview choices I have made in both my
professional work and in this thesis.
Ethical clearance was gained from the University, and in accordance
with standard ethical protocols, I requested that all interviewees sign
an informed consent document to confirm that they completely
understood the parameters of the project, and the terms and
conditions of participation. They also could withdraw their consent
at any time. Such practice follows a critical research framework 'of
informing research subjects of their rights, and obtaining their
consent to research'. 21
In the review of literature, I reference a number of people who were
instrumental in the development of MPU: John Gregory the CEO of
FTV, Chris O’Mara the former Programmer at ATN 7, and Peter
Abbott the former Executive Producer of Big Brother. These three
executives are also the partners in Freehand TV, henceforth known
as FTV, and because they have been my colleagues on MPU for the
past three years, my interviews with them were less formal.
Questions were not always closed; instead they revolved around
interpretations of specific, shared experiences during the production
period. In this informal discursive style, a space opened and the
21 Bertrand, Ina and Hughes, Peter (2005:17)
14
interviews moved from expected questions to a more spontaneous
and honest discussion. As Schostak points out, each interview can
be seen as a project having as its aim the exploration of the project.
At the same time, the discussion strategy has the potential to create
‘a sense of interchange where ideas by co-equals (can) be tested’.22
The benefit of discussion-based interviews with colleagues who
have experienced the same project is that facts or assumptions are
‘checkable’ against each other’s experiences.
During this ongoing process, John Gregory spoke about the early
development of MPU, Chris O’Mara spoke on formats and their
benefit to Networks and Peter Abbott spoke on reality TV and the
skill sets required in delivering new hybrid formats. Due to time
restrictions, some interviews had to include more structured
questions, together with participant observations about the skill sets
required to make the program. Mixing traditional on-camera
interview styles - participant observation and more structured
questions - often go hand in hand, one supplementing the other 23
to
deliver the required result.
The constant in all the interviews is the use of common television
language terms and an operational police language. This was
important to provide the study and the participants with a
22 Schostak, John (2006:50) 23 Fontana, Andrea & Frey James, (2000:651} .
15
sharedness of meaning, 24
and this was only possible after police
and production staff became familiar with each other’s terminology.
However not even a common language was sufficient in some
instances. Therefore, I used a group interview style when
interviewing NSWPOL Senior Constables Amanda Gale and Garry
Bailey, primarily to assist them to recall certain events that were
their shared experiences. 25 Even after nearly three years of working
with me, they felt more comfortable discussing the program as a
team ( the way they work). Hence the interview took the form of a
brainstorming session wrapped around a number of formal
questions 26
about the difficulty of moving from being a police
person, to becoming a TV police person, and their subsequent
perceptions of the effectiveness of MPU in assisting police in their
investigations.
Furthermore, two senior MPU producers were interviewed about
their experiences in the field and edit suite. In particular, I was
interested in their views on the skill sets required and the political
hurdles they encountered - with both families and police – to deliver
MPU stories to a quicker than usual turn-around.
24 (ibid 2000:660) 25 (ibid 2000:652) 26 (ibid 2000:651)
16
As with all similar series, MPU is made to a price, the Network
wanting to extract ‘more for less’ without jeopardising quality, a
factor which is always the ongoing commercial production
conundrum. John McAvoy, Head of Factual at Nine, discussed the
genesis of MPU, the benefit to the network of returning formats and
the impact of the series on their schedule and ratings. John was also
asked to comment on the skill sets required to produce MPU.
Parameters imposed by police – privacy, commercial in confidence
considerations, and internal protocols - impacted on my interview
with Inspector Amanda Calder the Manager of NSWP Public Affairs,
regarding the Standard Operating Procedures (SOPS). The SOPS
became the NSWPOL ‘bible’ for the production of MPU. This police
rulebook contained very complicated operational guidelines and
formed a set of review protocols that had to be addressed before
any stories went to air. The SOPS gave police a degree of
operational security and became the ‘safety net’ I used to entice
other state commands to eventually become involved in the show.
Most importantly, the interviews for this study are used throughout to
demonstrate and interlace with the observations I have documented
over the course of production and in this research.
As this thesis is a microcosmic case study of the production process
of MPU, the major focus is on the practical work, the development
and production. A detailed description of the methods of production
17
and an investigation into how and why we made the decisions we
did, are examined in Chapter Three.
Two programs are supplied as the creative component in this thesis,
as evidence of the style and the package. Even though Episode One
of Series One was produced just as I was commencing the
research, it is included as a preliminary episode that clearly
documents the genesis of the production style leading to the change
in format length. Episode One of Series Two, produced during the
research phase, is provided for evaluation and further documents
the development of MPU from a half-hour format to a one-hour
format.
As proposed, it is hoped that the intended outcomes of the
exegetical component form the basis of a useful tool for producers,
directors and writers planning to develop similar programs.
18
Chapter 2: Historical Review of Literature
Through tens of thousands of years of tales told at fireside,
four millennia of the written word, twenty five hundred years
of theatre, a century of film, and eight decades of
broadcasting, countless generations of storytellers have spun
story into an astonishing diversity of patterns. To make sense
of this outpouring, various systems have been devised to sort
stories into shared elements, classifying them by genre. No
two systems, however, have ever agreed on which story
elements to use in the sorting, and, therefore, no two agree
on the number and kind of genres.
Robert McKee, Story
Before exploring the specifics of Missing Persons Unit, I consider it
important to locate my background and production style in an
historical, television industry context. Much has been written on
documentary production in its various forms and also about reality
television. Nonetheless, apart from the in-depth case study research
available on Big Brother, which appears extensive, I have found little
that is specifically relevant to my particular style of production: that
is, the interlacing of real-time actuality using cross-genre skills, into
a soap-like dramatic structure. This is probably because all hybrid
formats such as MPU are unique and require specific developmental
and production approaches.
This section of my research will also look at how the changes in
technology over the past three decades have led to new forms of
television that are in many cases – for example, Big Brother,
19
Nurses, Home Truths – heavily reliant on technology. Peter Abbott,
the former Executive Producer of Big Brother, is convinced that Big
Brother would not have been possible without the advent of the
small invisible cameras that spy on the Big Brother housemates.27
I
contend in this study that MPU would not have been commissioned,
if new technologies had not brought about a reduction in production
costs, and more specifically, a streamlining of post-production, to a
level where MPU became commercially viable.
2.1: Interpreting the Real: From documentary to reality
My history as a program maker, at least in part, mirrors the stylistic
and technological development of factual television over the past
thirty years. I have attempted to adapt my production methods to
utilise new digital technologies, at the same time, varying my style
and increasing my output without compromising narrative. The latter
I hold sacrosanct in every form of television.
Professor Stuart Cunningham observes the great influence
television has on our society:
Television provides a prime platform for public life and has
largely displaced the newspaper as the prime and most
trusted source of news for the majority of the population.
Another indicator is the extent to which television has
influenced political and other public processes in our
society…Although this kind of role carries with it significant 27 Abbott, Peter (2007) Interview
20
problems, it remains the case that television (albeit supported
by radio and the press) is the ‘glue’ that holds together much
of our sense of ourselves as a society; it is the main platform
on which whatever passes as public debate and collective
sense-making in today’s society takes place. 28
Along with this degree of influence there is also a possibility of a
highly negative impact, involving:
The degree to which television contributes to declining levels
of social cohesion, increasing perceptions of the so-called
‘mean world syndrome’ and loss of faith on public
institutions.29
Such a view underlines my reasons for developing ‘cross genre’
series such as Home Truths (ABC 1994), Nurses (ABC 1999) and
Missing Persons Unit (Nine 2005): to promote an awareness of
family (Home Truths); to foster a greater understanding of
marginalised institutions (Nurses), and to debunk the loss of faith in
public institutions (MPU).
For much of my career as an independent producer and with the
Networks, I have waged what could be termed as a slow ‘war’ on
restrictive, genre-defined production and its dangerous habit of
suffocating development. At the ABC, where I began to develop the
MPU style of production, and where access to internal production
dollars was indirectly tied to an ability to penetrate its centralised
28 Cunningham, Stuart (2000:29) 29 Ibid (2000:30)
21
genre-based system, I found a contradiction between what we did
and what we purported to do. The 1993 Annual Report of the Board
of Directors stated that ‘the Charter requires the ABC to offer a
range of programs that make a contribution to Australian culture and
society. We are obliged to make provision for all Australians and, at
the same time, not compromise quality…’30
This rings forth as a
telling mandate.
Professor Elizabeth Jacka notes the series of ‘principles’ of Public
Service broadcasting (PSB) from the findings of the Broadcasting
Review Unit in London, which were picked up in the Australian
government review of the ABC and the Special Broadcasting
Service (SBS) in 1988 (DOTAC 1988). A number of these principles,
applicable here, involve the following: universality of availability;
universality of appeal; provision for minorities; that broadcasting be
structured to encourage competition in programming standards, not
for audiences; and freedom for the program maker. 31
These principles are highly significant, in particular universality of
availability, meaning that ‘PSB ought to be available to all members
of society and to all “citizens”’; or universality of appeal, meaning
that ‘the PSB should not confine itself to only a few genres or
categories of programs; rather it should embrace as wide spectrum
of the possibilities as the commercial sector’. Provision for minorities
30 Australian Broadcasting Corporation Act 1983 – Sect 6, 1, (a) ( i) 31 Jacka Elizabeth (2000: 53)
22
is another key aspect envisaging ‘that at the same time it will provide
for minority audiences in a way that commercial broadcasters –
those obliged by commercial imperatives to maximize audiences in
every possible timeslot - can not’; and, last but not least, freedom of
the program maker, which lay in the PSB program maker whose
‘ethical and aesthetic ideals should represent the highest values of
the society’. 32
However, the reality at the ABC in the early 90’s was quite different
from what is contained in this idealistic rhetoric. If the review of the
ABC (DOTAC 1988) provided the mandate and if department heads
were making a provision for all Australians, it seemed to me that
they were not doing the same for all producers, especially those who
were not in their immediate purview, working away from the Sydney
production base.
Of course, many of the production decisions that were made were
largely a product of the ABC’s Total Project Costing (TPC) (1987)
that was first mooted in 1974, and largely designed to determine
once and for all the real cost of ABC programming. The ABC
needed this information in order to report to Canberra at Senate
Estimates on their overall spend. It was also critical to know actual
costs and rates of charge, if the PSB’s like the ABC were to sell their
skills and resources to outside productions to increase revenue. This
32 Ibid (2000:53-54)
23
became particularly relevant during the late 80’s and 90’s when, ‘in
countries like Germany, France, Australia, Canada and New
Zealand, PSB has been in apparent decline, suffering from shrinking
audiences and a rapidly diminishing revenue base’. 33
At the ABC, the TPC system determined that projects would only be
commissioned, if costs could be allocated to one of the finite genre
funding ‘buckets’. In areas like comedy and drama, where long lead
times and finite costs were the norm, it was business as usual,
resulting in seminal shows like Geoff Portmann’s Mother and Son
(1984-94),34 and drama’s Phoenix (1992) and Janus (1994). 35
However in the factual department, genre heads became a little
nervous, and the new more rigid development models meant that
almost all development was referred back to Sydney, to be
referenced against their national slate and ‘holistic’ budget.
Partly because of the lack of revenue at this time, the ABC had
blanket agreements in place to purchase vast amounts of content
from international broadcasters ‘that enjoyed large scale in country
production and export dominance’. 36
33 Ibid (2000:52)
This, as O’Regan observes,
led to a view that Australian television services were ‘not at the
center of definitions of television, in that these nations import
34 Mother and Son (1984-94) Australian Broadcasting Corporation – Comedy Series 35 Phoenix & Janus (1992-94) Australian Broadcasting Corporation – Drama Series’ 36 Cunningham, Stuart (2000:22)
24
program concepts and programs’ and this led to local product being
referenced ‘often negatively – to imports’. 37
In a sense, Australian
networks were foregoing an Australian identity in favor of Anglo and
US style and content. While some peers saw this and the ABC’s
‘one stop shop’ Documentary and Features department (1994) that
was established in this climate, as a disadvantage, I would argue
that it was an opportunity to create an identity.
This new ‘super’ factual department, with the overall responsibility
for all factual genres, had, arguably, both a positive and negative
impact on development of local content. The positive aspect was
that there was one place where all factual producers could pitch,
with one cohesive factual slate. The negative side was that if ‘factual
heads’ were not in favour of the idea, internal ABC producers had
nowhere else to pitch their creative ideas.
In the first instance, I determined the only way forward in this
environment was to make myself more versatile and more
employable. To this end, and by the time I left the ABC in 2005, my
experience included a range of factual and non-factual program
forms: documentary, current affairs, drama, docu-drama and
magazine production. While I did not recognise it then, subsequently
I would use the diverse skill sets gained from these different styles
of production to build my own generically hybrid productions.
37 O’Regan T (1993:11) Australian Television Culture
25
Further, in my capacity as an executive producer at the ABC, I found
that producer/directors with multiple, varied skill sets, fared much
better on specialist factual productions, gaining more work than their
counterparts with a single craft skill (for instance, either producing,
or directing or writing).
Moreover, during this time, from the late Eighties onwards, there
was a technological revolution on its way that was to change the
production canvas, both at the ABC and at every other network and
independent production house: ‘PSB’s decline began in the late
80’s and was caused by the twin forces of technological change,
providing for a vast multiplication of TV channels, and the wave of
deregulation which swept the Western world’. 38
Deregulation was a political aspect that was beyond the control of
producers such as myself. However the technological imperatives of
the digital age provided a milieu within which astute producers could
work. The proliferation of channels and the cheaper technology of
the digital age resulted in a paradigm shift in the way producers
could think about development and production, predominantly
because the industry became starved for content. Programs became
referred to as ‘content’, and cheaper, more streamlined technology
led to experimentation in new forms of storytelling that delivered
different ‘content’. Smaller, cheaper cameras could now deliver
38 Jacka Elizabeth (2000: 52)
26
broadcast-quality pictures; affordable desktop digital edit suites with
onboard DVE’s (image manipulation technology) and inbuilt audio
mixing systems, completed the production chain. Producers could
now have turnkey production and post production equipment on
their desks. This greater accessibility to the tools of production
resulted in more adventurous forms of programs. Reduced cost of
production meant ‘sizzle reels’, that is, short video promotional tapes
that clearly demonstrated the strength of an idea, could now be
made ‘on the cheap’ and used more convincingly to sell innovative
concepts to genre department heads. As more networks came on
line and more program slots became available, requiring even more
content, Heads of genre departments began engaging with almost
any new concept, even those that technically sat outside their
scope.
Looking more broadly and contextually at this issue, it can be noted
here that even experienced documentary makers such as D A
Pennebaker recognised the role this new revolution would play in
changing production styles:
For people who are looking to get closer or maybe even go
beyond the edge of what they’ve always seen as a kind of a
wall as far a they could go, I think digital gives you a leg
up...and it’s not just the size (or the cost)…it’s the difference
between the pistol and the rifle.39
39 Pennebaker, D A (2002:51)
27
After shooting with a digital DV camera, Pennebaker, arguably the
‘father’ of un-tethered, location-based factual films and a pioneer of
the documentary industry, said: ‘I would be surprised if I did any
(shooting on) film for a while or ever again’.40 Moreover, his
documentary partner Chris Hegedus summed up the importance of
the digital revolution, when she observed that DV transferred film
making into the hands of the masses. 41
At the extreme end of experimentation, this new wave of storytelling
redefined documentary: for example, the emergence in 2000 of
online sites like The Nanking Atrocities, 42 which documented the
story of the Japanese massacre of Chinese in 1937. This site, that is
predominantly textual with a few pictures, adds fuel to the debate
about what is ‘documentary’. According to Nichols, ‘in documentary
film, four modes of representation stand out as the dominant
organisational patterns around which texts are structured:
expository, observational, interactive, and reflexive’. 43 The Nanking
Atrocities, resembling an online essay, contains conventions similar
to those present in an expository documentary: ‘(expository) is the
mode closest to the classic expository essay or report and it has
continued to be the primary means of relaying information and
persuasively making a case since at least the 1920’s’. 44
40 Ibid (2002: 51) 41 Hegedus, Chris (2002:50) 42 The Nanking Atrocities, (2000) Online site http://www.nankingatrocities.net 43 Nichols, Bill (1991:32) 44 Ibid (1991:34)
28
The Nanking Atrocities, while similar to a book, contains aspects of
an expository documentary. Furthermore, as with many
documentaries, the author of The Nanking Atrocities uses the ‘voice
of god’ authority, not in the conventional spoken form, but in a
written form to establish both his and the site’s authority. However,
unlike traditional documentaries, the online documentary is non
linear, enabling the viewer or reader to jump from one area to the
next to create his or her own story flow, thereby altering the author’s
meticulously crafted story to suit particular information or creative
needs.
Of course, with the ‘upside’ of experimentation, there can often be a
‘downside’. The flexibility digital technology provides can also have
an apparently negative impact on the craft of storytelling:
We love the new technology and the accessibility to
everybody, that democratization of the process. But at the
same time, we see, particularly with regard to the Internet and
video, the way in which the technological tail is now beginning
to wag the dog. I think we’ve lost touch with story, with
narrative…our ability to follow the story.45
The inbuilt danger, which eminent filmmaker Ken Burns has
articulated here, is what I am witnessing more and more in the
digital and DV age: a phenomenon I have termed the technological
drowning of craft, brought about by new, cheaper digital technology
enabling almost anyone to pick up a camera and make a film. This
45 Burns, Ken (2002:89)
29
trend may have an experimental benefit, as McKee believes: ‘While
the ever-expanding reach of the media now gives us the opportunity
to send stories beyond borders and languages to hundreds of
millions, the overall quality of storytelling is eroding’.46
It doesn’t seem to me that it’s my responsibility to figure out
names for these things (styles), because they (names) don’t
help me much in my work. I want to be able to do a scripted
film or a fiction film if somebody brings me something that
intrigues me. I don’t want to feel that it’s not my business
somehow.
I would argue
that McKee’s comment is very insightful. In my experience as a
participant observer in the production field, if I mention ‘story’ to
many of today’s producers, I often receive a blank response,
followed by a kind of off-putting shrug that could be summed up
thus: ‘What? You’re living in the dark ages’.
On the other hand, however, the new technology has given program
makers such as myself, who did not want to be labeled ‘genre
specific’, a liberating breakthrough. We could do more for less, and
much more quickly. If needed, we could now shoot and edit a ‘sizzle
reel’ to sell a concept, which may have been impossible to sell
verbally, because the idea was outside prescribed genre definitions,
and therefore potentially un-fundable. Pennebaker elaborates on a
further insight here:
47
46 McKee, Robert (1999:13) 47 (ibid 2002.: 54)
30
This telling statement sums up how I also thought in the early
Nineties at the ABC, and slowly my department heads also began to
think in this manner: ‘No one will buy without seeing a sizzle these
days’. 48
Interviewee Chris O’Mara refers here to the growing
practice of presenting sizzle reels as part of the selling pitch. When
a producer puts a sizzle reel into a programmer’s video player and
presses ‘play’, the genre is not as important as whether or not the
‘sizzle’ has ‘heat’, and if it does, it might hopefully have traction, and
therefore be approved for further development. Whether the form is
magazine or documentary seems almost irrelevant. Individual
factual department heads do not want to be the one who rejects the
next ‘big project’, simply because it may not be their particular
genre; whether they would admit this openly, is another issue
altogether.
During that period of change, the question for me as a producer
became, what stories to tell? The 1993 ABC Annual Report provided
another bullet for the adventurous producer, when it determined that
‘the ABC’s role in developing Australia’s national identity, fostering
cultural diversity and encouraging cultural expression will be more
important than at any time in the history of broadcasting…’ 49
48 O’Mara, Chris (2007) Freehand Television, Head Development - Interview
Armed
with this mandate, I decided I would attempt to increase cultural
expression by offering ABC viewers an opportunity to participate in a
49 ABC Annual Report Statement by Board of Directors 1993-94
31
semi-controlled production process.
In the first instance, my plan involved giving DV cameras to ordinary
Australians to use in a series called Home Truths.50 Seen by critics,
participants and program makers alike, as one of Australia’s first
forays into reality television, Home Truths was also an opportunity
for a more immediate, and far more collective form of factual
storytelling. Jeff Lowrey, a participant in Home Truths, says, ‘It gave
a working class bloke like me without any experience in TV an
opportunity to tell my own story from a very different cultural
perspective, my own’. 51
Stylistically, this social observational-
documentary series (obs-doc), filmed by the participants themselves
about the lives of twenty different Australian families, was a hybrid
form of television, relying on a combination of skill sets not
immediately found in traditional documentary forms. Home Truths
was observational in the way the material was captured, yet not
totally so. The program utilised current affairs skills and devices to
link thoughts into coherent story and strong sequences; however,
this was not current affairs.
Similarly, the series that is presented here as my creative practice,
Missing Persons Unit is a recent evolution of this type of multi-skilled
set, hybrid form, using an amalgam of skills to weave strong story
structure around unscripted actuality. Colleagues at other networks
50 Home Truths ABC TV (1994) 51 Lowrey, Jeff (1994) Home Truths Participant - Interview
32
have said that the series revolutionised the way Australian networks
now make police factual television. The Seven Network’s The Force
Series (2006) also captures ‘real time’ unsolved actuality, and has
begun lacing it in the MPU unreconstructed, soap style. Forensic
Investigators (2007), which reconstructed and dramatised solved
cases, was taken off air, even though there exist thousands of
interesting solved cases that could have made great television. I
consider that this happened because the audience would not invest
their viewing time into this kind of series any more, other than for the
drama. The Forensic Investigator cases were already solved so they
might as well be watching Without a Trace or a similar police drama,
with higher production values. When MPU came along, audiences
finally had a choice and they chose the program laced with actuality,
which, at the same time, was seeking their help to solve dramatically
charged cases.
It should be noted here, however, that the nature of commercial
audience ratings is a strongly contested area in academic debates,
as ratings can be viewed as an inherently limited measure of the
‘success’ of any television series, even with new, more refined
measuring technologies being introduced in the past decade.52
52 Balnaves, Mark & O'Regan, Tom (2002).
Ang
argues also that media corporations implicitly define 'watching
television' as a 'simple, one-dimensional and purely objective and
isolatable act'. She points critically to the issues surrounding the
33
ratings systems used, which, in her view, do not give an indication
of the richness and diversity of audience responses, nor do they
communicate the ‘ “lived reality” behind the ratings’.53 While such
qualitative audience research is outside the scope of this exegesis, it
is significant to acknowledge that, from this critical perspective,
ratings can be viewed as a method of packaging and delivering
audiences to advertisers, and, as Balnaves and O’Regan point out,
‘ratings systems only know the audience in certain capacities’. 54
On the other hand, given that MPU is being sold globally, and that at
the time of writing, discussions are underway to produce a replica
series in the USA, the home of multiple fictional and factual police
shows, it is worth finding out in some detail, the reasons for MPU’s
ratings success, at least from an industry insider’s point of view.
Series One averages reached 1.59 million viewers; Series Two and
Three, screening in the strongly contested Thursday night 8:30pm
time slot, became the number one program across all networks.
These strong results were a major impetus driving this research.
2.2 Defining genre, style and story
Over nearly three decades of attempting to document ‘the real’, I
have worked in many different forms of story delivery: documentary,
current affairs, magazine, docu-drama and ‘reality’. In the early
53 Ang, Ien (1996:56, 57) 54 Balnaves and O’Regan (2002:61)
34
days, like many young filmmakers, I believed that each of these
genres or what I call forms of story delivery, was distinctly different.
Four issues soon became apparent: the major difference between
the forms is the ‘skill set’ used to tell the story; the skill set gives the
finished piece a specific resonance or tone; the generic labels
attached to these forms are, in certain cases, designed to facilitate
scheduling, departmental and/or budgetary imperatives; and finally,
all genres are vessels for story delivery.
While some filmmakers persist with labels designed to keep the
genre club discrete, others, such as verité documentary-maker
Bruce Sinofsky, also see their work as a form or style rather than a
genre of film making: ‘Every film is an exploration. I don’t even use
the “documentary” moniker. I’ve always said non fiction and I’ve
always said that all film making is storytelling’.55 Popular filmmaker
Nick Broomfield agrees: ‘It’s all about storytelling – in the way you
order it in connections that you make and your ability to bring people
out’. 56
55 Sinofsky, Bruce (2002:168)
If these are valid comments, then a news reporter is as much
a storyteller as a documentary maker, albeit one using a different set
of skills and pitching at a different audience. Moreover, it may also
follow that the only real ‘genre’ - what the skill sets are designed to
deliver – is story.
I have always found defining genres an inexact science. For
56 Broomfield, Nick (2002:131)
35
example, the difficulty in reaching agreement over documentary’s
defining characteristics is mirrored in a similar argument over how to
classify documentary, using the available critical literature. The term
documentary was defined in 1926 by John Grierson as ‘the creative
treatment of actuality’.57
There are two counterpoised tendencies in documentary: with
one (the actuality component) the documentarist is claiming
our attention on the strength of his or her ability to represent
events that have occurred in the external world; with the other
(the creative component) a whole series of structuring and
narrativising ploys have been brought to bear in order to
heighten the impact of the film or program on an audience.
This is still a reasonable definition that
highlights a process by which documentary welds various
components – for instance, words, pictures, images and sound
effects - to elicit a response. However, whether Grierson realised it
or not, his definition also points to one of the more problematic
aspects of documentary:
58
And herein lies the conundrum: the storyteller’s first responsibility is
to create a strong story through a process that is largely subjective.
This process may involve manipulating the actuality component
creatively, thus altering the viewer’s perception in order to realise
the storyteller’s vision for the story.
While some filmmakers and critics still use the designation genre,
others see this term as potentially misleading. Among my industry
57 John Grierson, (1966) 58 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997: 12-13)
36
peers, there is no generally accepted view as to whether
documentary refers to genre or style, or just to a particular form of
story perception. Some practitioners believe it is all about the
subjective audience response which the filmmaker wants to elicit:
If it has proved notoriously difficult to define documentary by
reference to its shifting stylistic practices, it is because the
term ‘documentary’ describes not a style or a method or a
genre of film-making but a mode of response to film
material…The documentary response is one in which the
image is perceived as signifying what it appears to record; a
documentary film is one which seeks, by what ever means, to
elicit this response; and the documentary movement is the
history of strategies adopted to this end.59
This view by editor Dai Vaughan links closely with the way I see any
form of creative construction. Moreover, the strategies Dai mentions
possibly serve the same purpose as the skills sets I have been
referring to throughout this study; that is, using whatever means or
whatever skill set to elicit a specific response to a story.
Thus, while some documentarists purport to represent an objective
view about events in the external world, the reality may be quite
different. The very process of collection and transformation from raw
footage to structured story on the screen, is an interpretation of the
real. Where will I film, whom will I film, what lens will I use, will I use
a narrator, who will that be and how will the film be edited? These
are all key editorial considerations that suggest that documentary 59 Crawford, Peter and Turton, David (1993:101)
37
itself can never be more than the filmmaker’s representation or
interpretation of the real world; in other words, skill sets are used to
deliver a subjective view of the truth designed to achieve a specific
response to a story.
Even the least intrusive (by the filmmaker) ‘direct cinema’ style of
Albert Maysles impacts on the so-called truth or objectivity of the
film. Maysles says of his films: ‘The way I use my instrument, the
way I use my emotions, let’s say, is, I think, to get closer to the truth
rather than distant from it. And I think, perhaps the determining
factor is I empathise with the people I film’.60 While Maysles is
referring to his ‘style’, Nick Broomfield calls it his ‘art…(of) how you
shape it, the fun that you have with it…the way you manage to
encapsulate the film’.61 While Maysles’ style is to impact as little as
possible and only to gain access and trust, Sinofsky believes, and
Broomfield agrees, that this ‘line in the sand’ should be crossed
whenever necessary, and that there is nothing wrong with having a
relationship with the film’s subject. 62
60 Maysles, Albert (2002:5)
As a practitioner, I have found
it nearly impossible not to become involved. I also find that,
generally speaking, subjects respond to clear direction and input
which they see as an attempt by a professional to help them make
their story ‘right’ for the screen.
61 Broomfield, Nick (2002:131) 62 Sinofsky, Bruce (2002.:162)
38
Therefore, for all our claims as producers to present the world ‘as it
is’, and our attempts to engage the attention of the audience by the
force of argument, documentaries will probably never attain the level
of objective ‘truth’ to which they sometimes aspire. With a new breed
of digital filmmakers developing their own film languages and
working to their own sets of rules, the definition of what is truth and
the line between objectivity and subjectivity, will continue to blur.
As digital technology becomes more accessible, so did the
audience’s awareness of the process of collection and possibly even
construction. While today’s audiences are persuaded by the general
power of documentaries, that is, the search to find out more about
the issues, they understand their interpretive nature and the devices
used (by the filmmaker), and see documentary as a treatment of a
story. 63
That treatment will differ stylistically depending on the
filmmaker’s skill set, her/his interpretation, the intended audience
and the new electronic broadcast market imperatives impacting the
business of factual story production.
2.3 Television: The new style guru
Television altered the economics of filmmaking and almost overnight
there was little space for documentaries in cinema. In an instant, so
to speak, the ‘lords’ of the flat screen became the masters of the
63 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997: 4)
39
‘fact screen’. When television broadcasters began to offer
documentary a new home, they also began to dictate its form.
As a medium that delivers programs to the living room, television
fosters a desire for intimacy by focusing closely on people’s lives, a
style many established documentarists of the late 1950’s and 60’s
began experimenting with. This generation of filmmaker did not want
to corral their subjects, or put them through the charade of re-
enacting roles.64
The aspirations of this early wave of observational filmmakers have
been encapsulated by leading British documentarist Michael
Grigsby, when he expressed the following hope about his films:
They wanted direct location- based access and
began developing the technology (cameras, sound and fast film
stock) and reinventing the style (hand-held close ups and people
moving unencumbered in their own environment) in order to make a
new kind of observational style of documentary, feeding television’s
need for greater intimacy.
I feel that, particularly now, society and people are
fragmented, very isolated, and have in many cases no means
of being heard or of expressing themselves about their
everyday life or their emotional situation…I think it is
incumbent on us as broadcasters, filmmakers, whatever we
are, to be looking at our society and trying to find those
64 ibid (1997:65)
40
resonances, trying to hear those voices, to give people
space.65
In Australia, television Networks like the ABC became vehicles for
expressive change. While the Charter responsibility to encourage
cultural expression among all Australians provided the mandate,
technological advances made the department heads, who made
everything possible, much braver. In the early Nineties, as
mentioned before in this study, this attitude enabled me to develop
Home Truths – twenty Australian families with their own DV
cameras, filming their own extraordinary lives for three months.
Home Truths was one of Australia’s first reality-type series, a hybrid
form of observational documentary in a new era of filmmaking,
where technological developments encouraged experimentation in
capturing ‘the real’. This featured ordinary people reacting to life in
their own spaces, resulting in our own new, more subjective film
language.
Today the films of, for instance, Michael Moore, Nick Broomfield and
Alan Berliner, that further develop the early experiments in capturing
the real, display strategies of dealing with the subjective filmmakers’
vision, providing a voice for society and for the isolated. John Dovey,
a writer, producer and lecturer at University of West England, argues
that:
65 Grigsby, Michael & McLintock, Nicolas (1997: 7)
41
In (their) films we are witnessing the dominant tradition of
documentary filmmaking responding to the shifts in the
private and public domain of social space. There now exists a
significant strain of documentary filmmaking practice, which is
characterised entirely by its attention to and incorporation of,
issues around subjectivity.66
Peter Abbott the Executive Producer of the Australian series of Big
Brother believes:
This shift, largely the result of smaller cheaper equipment and
satellites enabling correspondents to beam live vision and
sound from their mobiles in war zones, also led to a shift in
market forces as society became more inward looking and
this led to the detriment of international documentaries and to
a more format driven situation. 67
This raw, immediate style of capturing actuality that centred on very
personal experiences, became a new television aesthetic on which
storytelling began to rely. Furthermore, documentary filmmakers had
to find the collection of skills to make it happen, in the world of fast
turn-around television.
2.4 Television Business: Defining truth and documentary
As the style of factual television evolved, so did definitions of
documentary. Critics often measure documentaries against a set of
values or examples, comprising a body of work produced over a
66 Dovey, Jon (2000:28) 67 Abbott, Peter (2007)
42
period of time. However, viewers have their own ideas on what
documentaries should deliver, measuring the defining qualities of
documentary against other types of programs in the factual
schedule. Even though many documentary makers may disagree,
producers will tend to take their cue from broadcasting institutions
that commission their work. 68 As documentary began to find a home
on television, Network chequebooks began to redefine documentary
style even more dramatically.
As this occurred, the relationship between context and the
production of truth, began to change irrevocably. Roger James, the
head of Carlton documentaries admits that when he pitched the
Guardian feature to the networks, ‘there was no research in place to
support the assertion that the Cali cartel were planning to upload
cheap high-grade heroin onto British streets. The idea was
formulated on the basis of what networks would find exciting, the
combination of heroin, Columbia, drug trafficking and a new
threat’.69
In today’s television environment driven by programmers and
commissioning editors, documentary truth is sometimes replaced by
created story; and the only probable difference between what Roger
James and many of us do, is that he admitted it. Far from being the
exception, in today’s buyers’ market, the ‘rule’ tends to be that
68 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997:13) 69 Dovey, Jon (2000.:10-11)
43
producers ‘second-guess’ what programmers know their audiences
want.
In the television age, documentary has become an umbrella term to
suggest certain styles of filmmaking that accord with particular
conventions on how information is gathered and incorporated into a
program. In addition, in order to secure television pre-sales,
producers have had to make their documentaries in styles that,
according to programmers, would render them more accessible to
television audiences. During the Eighties and Nineties, this led to
some of the most interesting developments in the form of
documentaries being directly attributable to television’s constant
generation of new types of programming in a relentless quest to
increase audience share. 70
Institutions act to interconnect funding, product, and use
because of the strategic play-off between their investment in
specific projects at the level of station, channel, and
programme and their need to gauge audiences responses
correctly in order to make these projects, and products, viable
at a given level of production cost. The insertion of
The more television began to own the
factual and, in particular, the documentary slot, the more a buyers’
market began to emerge and dominate. John Corner, Professor of
Television studies at University of Liverpool, explains the
phenomenon this way:
70 (ibid: 7-8)
44
advertising income into funding can only be maintained if
viewing levels and viewing profiles support it. 71
Corner refers here to the direct correlation between what is termed
‘content spend’ and television programming. The programming of
airtime is a Network equation that is adjusted daily. What the
programmers want, they get; and once they get it, they want it more
cheaply and newer in form. This means that traditional forms of
documentary have had to be reshaped, in particular verité and direct
documentary, in order to make these forms fit the cultural and
financial economic models of television.
Brow-beaten by tight deadlines, advertisers and shareholders driven
by coldhearted ratings, network programmers have come to realize
that, if documentary was going to survive on television in the late
twentieth century and beyond, it had to reach, entertain and hold an
audience week in, week out. One solution to these new economies
of scale was fly on the wall series like Roger Graef’s Police, or The
Family (BBC 1974), Sylvania Waters (BBC and ABC 1993) and
Home Truths (ABC 1994). These series, characterised by a lack of
staging (direct cinema of Police), high shooting ratios (of Family and
Sylvania Waters), a preoccupation with institutions or domestic lives
(Home Truths), all had the intimacy of privileged access and were all
controlled ‘fly on the wall’ series. That is, they used a degree of
producer input and narration and editing skills to corral the unwieldy
71 Corner, John (1999: 13)
45
nature of ‘fly on the wall’ immediacy. One of the main reasons Home
Truths was commissioned by the ABC hinged on the producers’
assurance that the injection of narration and stylistic similarities
across the episodes, would transform the ‘fly on the wall’ style into a
more manageable half-hour TV format, which could be delivered on
time and to a price.
Hence, the strategy for today’s TV producers is to ‘second-guess’
what programmers know their audiences want. The result is that the
notion of documentary truth on television is now subject to specific
political economies, in which ‘fact’ itself is a flexible commodity, used
to deliver audiences through complex treatments. Network format
imperatives, insisting on punchy, emotional, dramatic roller coaster
rides, are met by welding a comprehensive range of storytelling
skills during shooting (use of camera and questions) and in post-
production (editing, narration and use of music).
John Grierson, the so-called father of British documentary,
proclaimed the importance of documentary in the role of creating a
healthy public sphere, in which an educated and informed populace
was seen as key to social cohesion. Half a century later, factual TV
includes anything from Candid Camera, confessionals, surveillance
programs, docu-soaps and the various documentary forms including
video diaries. Mostly, documentary now exists in a televisual space,
neither wholly fictional nor wholly factual, where factual producers
are virtual slaves to the television schedule. Given the new
46
economic constraints, documentary makers are wondering: firstly, if
documentary can still play the role it allegedly once had in public
service broadcasting; and/or, secondly, if commercial imperatives
will make the survival of documentary even more dependent on its
becoming ‘more entertaining’ as with the newer television forms.
2.5 The birth of the modern format
Much of the mechanics of television relates to the division of airtime
and at commercial networks, specifically, the sale of airtime. Genre
labels group programs under, for example, the factual television
umbrella, and enable programmers to schedule daily (morning,
afternoon, evening) across a week
(drama, news and current affairs, documentary, comedy, reality) and
throughout a year (ratings and non ratings). The proliferation of
channels in the digital age has brought about an even greater need
for new and innovative programs to deliver to Networks the point of
difference that would maintain their audience share. This has
resulted in a proliferation of hybridised program forms, where
generic boundaries are blurred in an effort to create attractive new
formats. 72
72 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997:8)
As mentioned earlier in this study, MPU is one such
hybrid format, designed to cater to the growing thirst of the
audiences and networks for observational material packaged in
more structured format.
47
In an attempt to manage what audiences watched and what was
scheduled, film and then television pioneers categorised stories by
genre. One of the aspects they were managing was the
differentiation between styles of production, for example, the BBC
and the ABC use genre labels to differentiate general from specialist
(history) programs. However, in 2003, the BBC changed the
structure of factual genres to reflect the altering nature of factual
television,73
and increased the number of genres, something the
ABC had attempted earlier under Jonathan Shires, who introduced
twenty-two genre departments, ostensibly to better facilitate or label
the diverse range of content being developed.
In my opinion, this plan was a mistake. While more labels meant
even more emphasis on specific genre-related styles, the reality was
an enormous crossover between the twenty-two departments. For
example, the portfolio I received was called, Contemporary Life, and
even history programs sat under that umbrella, albeit contemporary
history. Managing all these disparate departments would be a
nightmare and costly: twenty-two heads of department would be
needed and their abilities and skills levels would be varied. If
implemented, and it was for only six months, this system had the
potential to create a scheduling (production and broadcast)
nightmare. However, the real danger of the fragmented Shire model
73 Hill, Annette (2005:42)
48
was that it would deplete the overall amount of money available for
development, and make the Australian on-air schedule even more
reliant on international content and, in particular, proven offshore
formats.
As global trade in formats grew throughout the Eighties and
Nineties, the format bible became a new form of television currency.
This was generally viewed as a quantification of someone’s creative
dream, a uniquely identifiable document enforceable by law, that
would give formats a degree of legitimacy often even before they
were produced. For instance, formats could generate income at
concept stage and be sold into multiple markets to be produced
simultaneously in a number of territories.
Global circulation of formats generally occurs through two broad
mechanisms, one that involves not seeking consent of the producer
of the original program (certain ‘formatable’ elements are used
combined with new elements); the second (where a mirror of the
original program is produced) usually involves obtaining
authorisation to license the format. 74
[P]art of a process for obtaining legal authorisation to copy,
imitate etc that which is called the format or set of production
ideas. These are not public ideas or knowledge but rather are
Dr Albert Moran explains the
second mechanism, involving a licence fee as:
74 Moran, Albert (2003:2)
49
deemed to be intellectual property in which the producer
holds various rights. 75
These rights are quantified in an agreed value called a format
licence fee, which is paid by the program maker (independent or
network) to the original producer for the right to use the format – an
economic and cultural technology of exchange. 76
First there is the paper format: a five or six page summary of
the main ingredients of the programme and how these
ingredients will combine. Second, the ‘bible’, and extensive
and detailed document often running to several hundred
pages of printed information, drawings, graphics, studio
plans, photographs and so on…A package of printed
information about the scheduling, target audience, ratings
and audience demographics based on broadcast
history…scripts…off air tapes of previous versions of the
programme…Finally the format can also arrive in human form
when a consultancy service is provided to new producers by
the company owning the format.
The format fee
buys, as Moran explains, a series of overlapping but separate forms:
77
The experimentation that went into format development meant a
continuous redefinition of traditional genres and styles of production.
While the Shire model broke down content style in genres, the
reality was that tagging programs as genre-specific was now not as
important as the race to be the first to develop or acquire the ‘hot’
new format. Nevertheless, as Peter Abbott observes, at times the
75 Ibid (2002:3) 76 Moran, Albert (2004:6), 77 (Ibid 2004:5)
50
danger with formats is a homogenisation of production styles: ‘at the
end there’s still an editorial head. It’s still one person’s view of the
world around them and formats destroy that and as a consequence
programs become less individual and less adventurous’.78
Repeat the winning formula…create your own successful
series…with BBC World Wide Television’s format package.
Minimise the risks – formats offer tried and tested creative
ideas for reliable quality programming. Grasp the essentials –
each package contains many elements you need to make an
individual series tailor-made to your own particular
requirements.
Peter
Abbott’s company, Freehand TV, is partly owned by the BBC. While
his view above is clear, Freehand still trades BBC formats and
wherever possible also produces them, because they believe in the
selling power that the certainty formats preach:
79
The format market is extensive enough that the BBC employs a
format supervisor, who travels the world checking that licensed BBC
formats are made according to their prescribed production ‘bibles’.
Therefore, while on the one hand the digital age encouraged stylistic
adventure, the requirement, on the other hand, for content in a
rapidly expanding multi-channeled digital environment, may also
have led to a growing reliance of proven formats in place of
adventurous programming. The increase in audience fragmentation
brought about by a proliferation of new channels placed a greater
78 Abbott, Peter (2007) Interview 79 Moran, Albert (2004:259)
51
emphasis on the economic imperative to ensure the popularity (and
economic viability) of programs, in an effort to contain and grow the
fragmenting audience. Therefore, proven shows that can be stripped
80
to get a returning audience by building to an event to hold ratings
over weeks and even months, became the flavour of the day.
Furthermore, the mass appeal of the ‘reality TV format’ stripped
across weeks, offered the most visible example of an economic
strategy to deal with multi-channel competition and fragmentation.
2.6 Reality in the lounge room
As a program maker, I have to admit, rather reluctantly, that the
following observation from Friedman is valid:
As we embark upon a new century of broadcasting, it is clear
that no genre form or type of program has been actively
marketed by producers, or more enthusiastically embraced by
viewers, than reality based TV.81
Reality TV is a complex form to define, and at times to defend,
possibly because the type of program we normally associate with it
is difficult to categorise. Peter Abbott believes reality TV is
impossible to define, arguing that:
80 Stripping a show is to exploit the content in a manner that enables the series to be run as many times as possible over a week or month, or longer, at the same time slot. 81 Friedman James (2002)
52
(T)he common factor is that we don’t use actors but real
people and this enables them to be marketed as it could be
you. If anything it’s the fresh food of TV, but I don’t think there
can be a genre that It’s a Knockout, Sylvania Waters and The
Bachelor all fit in’. 82
However, some commentators contend that this all-encompassing
aspect of reality TV is also its hallmark:
By 1994 the term ‘reality TV’ was already a catch all phrase
that covered a number of hybrid forms but could be
conceived as: recording on the fly and frequently with the
help of lightweight video equipment; events in the lives of
individuals and groups; the attempt to stimulate such real life
events through various forms of dramatized reconstruction;
the incorporation of this material in suitably edited form into
an attractively packaged television program which can be
promoted on the strength of its reality credentials.83
Nevertheless, reality TV could just as easily be called people
programs, documentaries of real life and programs about what might
happen to you or me; and this ‘it could be you’ aspect has been part
of their appeal since the early days of the very first reality television
program, Candid Camera.
The New York Herald Tribune wrote of Candid Microphone, the
precursor to Candid Camera:
Everyone may tune in on their neighbours or, at any rate,
somebody’s neighbours and listen to their unrehearsed,
82 Abbott, Peter (2007) Interview 83 Kilborn Richard, (1994:423)
53
unwitting, unsponsored remarks. It’s a wonderful sport, like
looking through keyholes but capable of infinitely greater
variety…The possibilities are limitless: the prospect is
horrifying. Wait till they get the Candid Television Camera. 84
They did not have long to wait. At the height of the Cold War,
Candid Camera (US 1948 -) a format for recording ordinary people
in extraordinary staged circumstances, functioned as a statement to
people to stop worrying about being watched. In today’s post 9/11
age of terrorism, the same could be said about the current crop of
reality programs. Now the mantra could run as follows: ‘don’t mind
all the cameras spying on you, it’s for your own good, look how
these people easily relate to cameras recording them all day’. And
per capita, Australians are probably the world’s most willing
participants in reality TV programs. Frontier House in the USA and
Outback House in Australia are two installments in the successful
House format developed by Wall To Wall in the UK. Even though the
population of the USA is fifteen times greater than Australia, the
same number of people applied for Outback House as did for
Frontier House in the US. So this begs the question: what is the
appeal of such programs?
Chris O’Mara, the former programmer for the Seven Network in
Australia, believes the appeal for the public is that they can see
themselves in reality TV shows. He claims:
84 Funt, Allen with Phillip Reed (1994:30)
54
People watching see an element of their own lives they look
at it and see a glimpse of what could happen in their own
situation so there is an element of reality and voyeurism.
They wonder how they would react in the same situation and
there is sympathy for the mums and dads of bad teens who
run off’ 85
Missing Persons Unit viewers look at the stories, see themselves in
the place of the families and feel that ‘there if not for the grace of
God go I’. This form of identification/voyeurism also occurs in reality
TV. And even though MPU is reviewed under the more factual
banner, it may also fit a reality TV profile, as Chris O’Mara further
argues: ‘MPU is observational documentary; again it’s also a reality
show as we are shooting real life.’ 86
Chris O’Mara also believes that the popularity of reality TV with
network programmers has less to do with its style and more to do
with its ability to be planned and sold on a large scale:
What Chris is referring to is the
particular MPU style, which will be discussed in detail later, which
dictates that it is shot in real time, with real people, covering real
stories.
I think comedy is a genre, drama is a genre but not reality, it’s
just real life in a production construct. Networks have given it
a label because they like putting things in boxes for ease of
scheduling and for marketing purposes’. 87
85 O’Mara, Chris (2007) Interview
86 Ibid (2007) 87 Ibid (2007)
55
It may then follow that what unites the range of programming often
described as reality TV, is primarily its discursive, visual and
technological claim to ‘the real’. However, that alone may not be
enough to form a definition. Friedman adds that looking at the
marketing phenomenon of reality TV might provide another clue to
its popularity:
The proliferation of reality based programming…does not
represent a fundamental shift in television programming, but
the industry’s reliance on ‘reality’ as a promotional marketing
tool is unprecedented. What separates the spate of
contemporary reality based television…(is) the open and
explicit sale of television programming as a representation of
reality. 88
From this perspective, reality TV could be defined as programs built
around specific marketing elements: real, ordinary everyday people
whom the audience can identify with, event driven rundowns,
generally presenter led, an audience or viewer eviction element, a
prize at the end and purporting to represent the real. If so, then
what about MPU, the main focus of this study? This program has a
marketing element – the need to search for someone’s loved ones; it
has a viewer element – ringing crime stoppers with hot information;
and it ostensibly represents the ‘real’.
Kilborn and Izod see reality TV also as a mode in which television
packaging intervenes in actuality-based production, as it seeks to
88 Friedman James (2002:7)
56
highlight the sense of shared experience. Out of this come programs
that use a wide range of television techniques (skill sets) to enhance
the entertainment value of the material.89
We expose all their tricks. We’re completely upfront about it.
When you want the contestants to talk about first love, you
hear Big Brother say “hey – would you talk about your first
love?” But documentary filmmakers have always manipulated
material both in the way they edit it and the way they shoot it’.
If their definition is valid,
then I see a distinction between what is called reality TV and MPU
type programs. The truth is that some of my peers working on
observational programs like MPU, rejoice when their programs are
labelled reality, because it gives them a home, with a large financing
bucket and a marketing umbrella under which to pitch. Nevertheless,
other doco-makers are enraged, because they see the tag as
demeaning. Furthermore, as Big Brother’s Peter Bazalgette,
Creative Director Endemol UK believes, documentary makers are
annoyed because:
90
The reality in today’s ‘buyers market’ is that network executives do
not really care what documentary makers think. They are seeking
proven winners for channel visibility and for the economic
predictability these formats offer. Bazalgette defines these types of
series as high concept, stating: ‘They make more of a mark, create
more of a brand with viewers, and once established people come
89 Kilborn, Richard and John Izod (1997:85) 90 Bazalgette, Peter (2001)
57
back to them again and again’. 91 He considers that it is all about
being heard above the noise, and one answer is ‘to commission
programs that are major events. High concept ideas that can be
stripped across a channel’s schedule every day for several weeks to
help ambitious channels stand out from the crowd’. 92
Thus the key questions in this study, as illustrated here, may not be
so much about asking what is reality television or whether it is fact or
fiction. More relevant might be a consideration and exploration of
the ways the reality format itself, as a marketing tour-de-force, plays
out each day or week in a highly contested, largely self-obsessed
space, using a highly developed construct or skill set to tell a story
and hold an audience.
This is not to say that the concepts of fact or fiction have absolutely
no meaning any more; rather that because these terms are always
under reconstruction and negotiation, our definitions of the
relationship between TV realism, fact and fiction and entertainment
shows, must also adapt. For those viewers watching reality TV,
these definitions have adapted to accepting that reality television
programs manipulate and construct the real, through instruction,
editing, characterisation and dramatic structures.
91 Ibid ( 2002:14) 92 Ibid ( 2002: 14)
58
While MPU, the main subject of this study, also has similar drivers to
reality TV, it is arguably different enough to be defined in other
terms. While based on real people and strong stories, it does not
occur in a manufactured construct and is not event-driven. MPU is
built around highly dramatic un-rehearsed story twists that leave the
viewer waiting until the next break, or the following week, and these
are plotted along a time line that is predominantly driven by actuality
and not ‘ a Big Brother instruct’. Rather than events, MPU uses a
combination of filmmaking and journalistic skills to weave stories
gathered from an observed reality, to create a type of observational
soap, which is, essentially, an extended form of storytelling, using
cross programming, recurring characters, and repeating information
to update audiences, much like a daytime soap or serial.93
While it uses some trademark soap or serial characteristics, MPU is
one of a group of new hybrid forms of storytelling that sit outside
prescribed definitions. As Nichols argues:
Any firm sense of boundary which such shows attempt to
uphold between fact and fiction, narrative and exposition,
story telling and reporting inevitably blurs and everything is up
for grabs in a gigantic reshuffling of the stuff of everyday life.
Everything, that is, is subject to interpretation by television as
a story telling machine’ 94
Nichols’ view is valid; stylistically it is all ‘up for grabs’. But what
producers do with the raw content, how they grab it and how they
93 Corner, John (1999:57) 94 Nichols, Bill (1994a 43)
59
manipulate it, will be slightly different with every incarnation of hybrid
observational documentary form on television. And it is this
difference that we will explore next.
60
Chapter 3: Missing Persons Unit Production
I think I wanted it (the program) to be as accessible as
possible to as big an audience as possible and to find a way
of holding that audience. I always thought that was part of the
riddle that it was important to be able to do that.
Nick Broomfield 95
MPU is a half hour (now one hour) observational docu-soap
television series that captures the ‘real life’ drama of the men and
women of the police force, as they investigate and find missing
people:
Missing Persons Unit a new series premiering on Channel 9
explores the emotionally charged world of the (NSW) MPU.
Unfolding over months of dramatic filming, our cameras
record the real time detective work of the MPU as they search
for missing people. In each episode, this unique insight into
the MPU and its field and forensics investigators plays out
against the intimate pleas for help from devastated families of
missing people.
They say it’s a nightmare…but it’s worse than any
nightmare…because you don’t wake up from this: Mrs Janet Draper, mother of Ian, reported missing 3rd August 2001
MPU is not a drama, but it is dramatic television. Shot in the
observational style and with unprecedented access, we
capture stories as they unfold, and experience first hand the
trauma of devastated families waiting for answers as they
hang on to hope. 96
95 Broomfield Nick, (2002:128) 96 MPU Production Press Notes (2005)
61
That is what I told journalists and that sums up the essential nature
of MPU as a series. The key question driving this study is: what was
the production process from the beginning?
Television production is a team activity. However, as the series
producer and then executive producer of MPU, I was responsible for
all editorial and managerial aspects of the show. This included
signing off on story shoots, story edits, interlacing stories into
programs and writing the final program scripts. I embarked on this
Masters research because I became convinced my work might
serve some useful purpose, possibly as a ‘road map’ for
adventurous producers wanting a starting point for their own similar
productions. From the beginning of this study, I have had the
opportunity to review and reflect on my work practice methods. This
has been important in crystallising my views on certain aspects of
production, in particular the application of the craft of storytelling in
factual, hybrid forms. I have also had the opportunity during the
research, to speak with my producers in a less frenetic environment,
and this has been insightful. Notwithstanding all this, I now believe,
more than ever, that while this exegesis takes the form of an
investigation, its primary function is as an operation reference tool.
While not a handbook, this study and the two associated creative
practice DVD’s are designed to provide as much ‘take home’ advice
as possible for future producers.
62
Therefore, I have structured the remainder of the research around
the production milestones of MPU from concept to delivery.
Wherever possible, I have structured these milestones in the natural
order in which they impacted production.
Throughout this section, I will refer to a number of interviews
conducted with two MPU producers, a senior editor, the Head of
Factual for the Nine Network and a number of other key players. As
mentioned earlier, ethical clearance has been gained for all
interviews with industry colleagues involved in this study.
3.1 The Concept – development and early change
‘One person is reported missing every 18 minutes’ 97
This seemingly incredible statistic was to become the driver for the
development of MPU, one of Australia’s most successful
documentary series.
In 2005, the Nine Network began discussing with the New South
Wales Police Department (NSWPOL) the possibility of working
together to produce a television series on the NSWPOL MPU. John
McAvoy, the Head of Factual at the Nine Network, remembers the
initial Network concept as not resembling the present show: ‘The
original discussion was to have a live component, not that it was
97 National Missing Persons Unit Website (2007)
63
going to be similar, but more like Australia’s Most Wanted, viewer
interaction is what they (Nine) were looking for there’.98
I was fearful that what Nine wanted was Australia’s Most
Wanted and that they wanted an American-style production
with production value but no real stories. What was realised
early on was that these police do a job that is not what
policing means to people and that a live show wouldn’t
capture this’.
Indeed, this
was FTV CEO John Gregory’s biggest concern when FTV was
asked to produce for Nine:
99
Moreover, the need to capture police on the job was the driving
force in developing the show, especially for John McAvoy from Nine:
‘the present concept has the obs-doc all on tape, and I think
everyone is much happier’. 100
Ultimately MPU became the Number One show across all networks
in the crucial 8:30 pm time slot justifying John McAvoy’s support of
the concept:
I don’t think the concept has lost anything, I think in the live
show the key element was audience involvement, but this
show doesn’t discount that, our audience can still be involved
and that’s one of the reasons people watch the show
because they can still buy into the story.101
98 McAvoy, John (2008) 99 Gregory, John (2007) 100 McAvoy, John (2008) 101 ibid (2008)
64
In fact, the audience ‘bought’ into it so much that the program stayed
at Number One across three series over two-and-a-half years. The
value of such success gives a producer statistics that one can
literally take to the bank; that link between creativity and economic
performance is exactly what commercial television is all about.
The initial enthusiasm for a live show was tempered with one major
drawback: the issue that much of the actuality that drives MPU, the
drama of the search and the emotion of the families looking for
closure, could not be captured in the proposed live format. At best,
the producers of a live show could hope for a series of short reports
and on-air telephone calls from the public: in essence, a prime time
community service announcement. While the Network wanted that
proactive, ‘worthy’ feel, they also wanted to reveal the drama of
people going missing: the search, the emotion and the devastating
impact on family and friends of missing people. In effect, they
wanted great television, a formula John McAvoy clearly thinks we
found:
I think it’s better now than it would have been as a live show
and I think you can dedicate more time to the stories than you
would in a live show with people standing around a studio
talking and people are still ringing in with new leads. 102
The aim was to develop a show driven by current actuality and
woven to deliver strong narrative, emotion, drama and holding
102 Ibid (2008)
65
power. Additionally, with proper, careful planning, that formula is
what we delivered immediately from the first program, rating 1.53
million viewers and becoming the Film Finance Corporation’s 103
‘highest ever’ premiering documentary series.
The earliest crime program I could remember at the time was
Crimewatch (BBC, 1984) and the most recent (in terms of planning
for MPU) was Forensic Investigators (ATN 7, 2005). While different,
these programs both relied on drama reconstruction. In developing a
style for MPU, I looked carefully at these programs. Forensic
Investigators features solved cases that were scripted and
reconstructed using actors. The drama was written and often lacked
the involvement of police. As the cases were already solved, I felt
the program served no real purpose except to entertain. Hence, we
disregarded it as a model.
Crimewatch recreates unsolved police cases and also interviews
families and police. The public are encouraged to call in with
information to help solve the case. Such a format has been
criticised as ‘cheap lazy television… programme makers realise
they’re on a good thing…No need for script writers or imagination,
it’s ready made, put in the microwave, sensational - success
103 Film Finance Corporation (2005)
66
guaranteed (television) ’.104
Just as Crimewatch relies for its popularity on a characteristic
mix of components, so do the various forms of reality
programming depend on the way in which the multiple
ingredients (reality bites, reconstruction, surveillance material,
presenter talk) are brought together in a fast-moving
audience friendly package.’
Strangely, twenty four years later similar
comments to these are employed by critics to describe reality TV:
105
In effect, this is what we were searching for in MPU - the right
‘package mix’ to hold our audience.
The ‘ghoulish voyeurism’ 106
However, as the ‘new kid on the block’, so to speak, MPU needed a
point of difference from Australia’s Forensic Investigators and
of Crimewatch allegedly taking over the
schedule was pitched as pro-active television back in 1984. Unlike
Forensic Investigators, Crimewatch was actually trying to assist
police to solve unsolved cases. It is my contention that this social
purpose, where the BBC pays to increase police case profile, is
where television should be heading. While the series may have
been strong rating television, if it also helped police solve just one
case, I believe the format had and still continues to have a place in
today’s schedule. Therefore I considered Crimewatch as a possible
model for MPU, a series that was also designed to assist police.
104 Graham, Polly (1994:13) 105 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997:159) 106 Kennedy, Ludovic (1994: 8)
67
Britain’s Crimewatch. We needed to capture and increase a
distinctive sense of authenticity about our program. I determined
early in the planning process that the best way to achieve this was
to eliminate dramatisation as a storytelling device. In its place, we
would build on our close association with police, and our unique
access to current stories. Real people would provide emotion as
they recounted their loss and made pleas for help. Together with the
driving actuality of an unfolding search, that is, hard working cops on
the beat solving ‘hot’ stories, we had the dramatic story elements to
immerse viewers in the reality of the moment, and make them
identify with the families, and feel that ‘it could be them’. John
Gregory, the CEO of FTV, believes this is the main reason that MPU
resonates with the audience:
MPU falls into the category “There but for the grace of God
go I” TV, and the fact that it is actually human drama told
without a script per se. It is legitimate TV drama, it is well
crafted and has an appeal that goes beyond the language. It
doesn’t matter that they are Australian…there’s a connection
with family a sense of loss, universal themes that everyone
can tap into. It’s authentic and people can tell that the tears
and joy are real, it doesn’t dwell in crime but has the real life
drama that deals with the human condition’. 107
Indeed, that comment sums up also what we were looking for on the
screen: to create a feeling that was so devastating that it drew out
the compassionate element from an audience, who could readily
see themselves living the same nightmare as the families of the 107 Gregory, John ( 2007)
68
missing people on the screen.
Another clear evolving point of difference from Crimewatch and
Forensic Investigators was that our stars and focus were police and
ordinary families, not TV personalities. In order to keep the audience
in the moment of the search, we decided not to use an on-screen
presenter. Instead, the production team decided on a narrator to
assist in moving the story forward and to help fill in current ‘blanks’
in cases with unfolding actuality, where we could not always be
present when the story was developing. The narrator became our
device for filling these story holes, creating emphasis and time
shifting. The narrator, as will be explained later, is a useful tool in
fast turn-around schedules.
Nonetheless, no amount of planning was going to be effective
unless we had unfettered access to the appropriate police personnel
and their operations. The success of many documentary projects
rests to a large degree on the production team’s ability to gain
access, both to people who have a story to tell, and to the places
where revealing evidence can be found. One of the strengths of the
documentary form is its ability to evoke the sense of ‘being there’, at
events where viewers themselves would be denied access. 108
108 Loizos, Peter (1993:67)
69
When I came on board, the production team’s access still had to be
negotiated. From the first meeting with police, it became apparent
that to achieve worthwhile results, we would firstly have to develop a
level of trust. Significantly, complicating our relationship right from
the outset, the police could remember the inflamed debate
surrounding the 1991 ABC TV documentary Cop It Sweet. 109
At our first meeting to explain how we would proceed, and even after
the series had been ‘green lit’ by both police management and the
Network, the police with long memories still had to be convinced to
be involved at the ground level. Inspector Amanda Calder, Manager
NSWPOL Media Unit believes the memory of how police were
portrayed in Cop It Sweet caused them to baulk at MPU:
This
film had followed police officers on duty (something we were also
planning to do) and, according to some commentators, represented
Redfern police station in Sydney’s inner city, as one of the most
controversial police commands in the country. Hence, the police
were wary of invoking such exposure again.
About 1990 the NSWPOL got involved in a TV show with the
ABC. And that unfortunately was managed in such a way
where the police service didn’t have veto because we didn’t
have legals in place. So as a result of that show which
provided a lot of adverse publicity, police officers were bought
up to scrutiny. Some lost their job and it was a big issue.
Since 1990 it became ground into police not to get involved in
media again. Even now we hear ‘what about Cop It Sweet.
109 Cop It Sweet (1991) ABC TV, Documentaries
70
After that the relationship between police and media was so
strained. 110
Police reservations were not only based on their fears about how
they would be portrayed, but also about how they would perform on
camera:
The hardest thing was that we were being shown doing a job
that we’ve grown to love but that we hadn’t been doing for
long – we were meant to be experts and being police there’s
always a huge emphasis on procedure and doing something
right. Then there was the filming. We’re not actors, we’re
cops. So the filming was new and the job was new – a recipe
for disaster that turned into a triumph for all. 111
Inspector Calder is referring here to the fact that extra general
duties police were seconded to the MPU to facilitate filming.
However, police fears were in some key ways a mirror of our own
concerns. We were not police and did not understand their
procedural imperatives, and, at the same time, they were certainly
not actors: ‘We had to develop new skills to help us make the
television work look natural, otherwise none of this would work, that
was the first big challenge’.112
Indeed, this was going to be the most confronting continual
challenge for producers working with police. It is a common problem
I have experienced in similar series when filming with non-actors
110 Calder, Amanda (2008) NSWPOL PR, Interview 111 Ibid ( 2008) 112 Bailey, Garry ( 2008) MPU Case Officer, Interview
71
over long periods of time. For instance, during the early stages of
filming Home Truths, a self shot series exploring family life in
Australia, participant Jeff Lowrey said, ‘I’ve filmed everything, my
life’s just not that interesting mate’.113
A lack of understanding about
how material is used (edited) commonly leads to a questioning by
the participants of the value of their input, the relevance of their
story, or their ability to do the job. Hence, this was clearly happening
with police at the MPU, even before we began.
The production planning team were concerned also that MPU police
officers did much of their work from the office using the phone.
Therefore, if the job was primarily office bound, our series would not
have the dramatic ingredients of the field search, or the emotion of
families being interviewed face-to-face, the type of engrossing action
required to sustain a prime time slot:
Our MPU officers were also a little nervous of the whole TV
thing because they did most of their business from behind a
desk on the phone, where they focused on certain high-risk
cases. For the TV show the officers were asked to spend
more time in the field investigating cases they may not have
spent as much time on, like the many teenage runaways we
get. But these cases made for good television and finding
teenagers is still part of MPU core business, so we agreed to
this even though it churned up resources. 114
113 Lowrey, Jeff (1994) ABC TV Home Truths Interview 114 Calder, Amanda (2008) NSWPOL PR, Interview
72
While we had to convince police commanders to agree that MPU
case officers should spend more time on the road interviewing
families and chasing leads, alongside general duties police, we also
had to convince the officers that they were actually capable of doing
all this while being filmed.
This was not always easy, for instance, for Snr Sgt Garry Bailey:
It’s hard to just switch on and off - is this filming or is it real.
So it’s always real and because of that filming does
sometimes get in the way – we want you to say this or that
and while holding back doesn’t compromise the investigation,
it can make you look silly in the eyes of other cops.115
Subsequently, when the wrong things were said, when it got ‘too
real’ in the heat of the moment, the Police Filming Supervisor (PFS)
would step in, and we would be ordered to revert to working to strict
police protocols with a ream of administrative checks and balances.
This was our first major hurdle in developing a show that would, as
Freehand Director of Production Peter Abbott put it, ‘best present
this subject to the audience so they will be most intrigued by it,
entertained by it and will keep watching the commercials and be
there after the break’. 116
115 Bailey, Garry (2007) MPU Case Officer, Interview
The key thorny issue was that this would
need to be achieved within parameters specified by the police.
116 Abbott, Peter (2007) Creative Director FTV, Interview
73
Commanders eventually agreed to our request for more fieldwork,
because the practice gave police an increased public profile and the
street visibility they wanted to promote on the series. However, now
we were technically out of the office, we needed to find a way to
control our unfolding, unscripted and unpredictable actuality. This is
where the police Standard Operational Procedures (SOPS) or
operational orders became critical.
3.2 Operational Orders: the first police grid of control
The success of a series like MPU, which is exploring a protected
world, is always going to depend on the relationship between the
key stakeholders - the Nine Network, NSWPOL, families of missing
people and the production company.
From the outset, the most important issue is to set the rules of
engagement that will enable the series to achieve and hold traction.
What did the Network want, how much access will the police allow,
will families cooperate, how much can the production company bend
and still deliver the series the Network commissioned? The complex
ways that these editorial questions and requirements are balanced
against police imperatives, was all dealt with in the Standard
Operating Procedures (SOPS) .
74
Primarily designed to facilitate filming, the SOPS laid out the
conditions under which NSWPOL could participate:
Involvement in this production brings a range of benefits
(and) meets the following key corporate objectives:
1. To reduce the fear of crime within the community by
reassuring the public of the ability of Police to prevent and
solve crime, apprehend criminals and work to solve missing
person’s cases.
2. To increase community confidence in police and thus the
detection and reporting of crime.
3. To effectively consult and communicate with the
community and give them the opportunity to comment on
service delivery.’117
Technically, NSWPOL were only interested in meeting these
objectives if the film crew could make ‘every reasonable endeavour
to ensure their presence does not compromise police operations nor
record operationally sensitive information and to that end, the film
crew will at all times comply with the directions of the NSW Police
Film Crew Supervisor (PFS) whilst on Police premises or whilst
filming Police operations’. 118
However, access to a ‘never before
seen world’ of operational sensitivity was exactly what we were
promoting to the press.
Inspector Amanda Calder, one of the architects of the SOPS sees it
this way:
117 SOPS (2005) MPU Operational Orders, NSWPOL 118 Ibid (2005)
75
Our business is the business of policing not television. So we
needed a set of orders that detailed our business and your
business (production company). These orders had to set out
the requirement for participating in the show from A to Z; and
the main thing that we wanted to understand is the
relationship between the production-company and police. We
wanted to know each others’ business and how the two
businesses can intertwine to make this a positive program.
And we knew that there was every chance that it would be
positive if we understood how each operated in the field. 119
Furthermore, Snr Sgt Garry Bailey stated that it was important for
the production team to realise what the primary focus was:
You don’t want to turn up to some one’s house whose had a
loved one missing for a day a month and have them thinking
that you are there for the filming – you want to focus on them
and their problem finding their missing loved one.120
This is the fine balancing act our producers had to perform for each
story: if the police were not happy, the production could not proceed.
Inspector Calder stresses that the SOPS were designed to be
operational and not dictatorial:
We all knew at the end of the day what we wanted to achieve,
but how we did that is something we had to find out and lay
out in detail. Step by step to getting into a police car, going to
a job, speaking with families and filming, that’s what the
Operational Orders provided. If we walked out not knowing
how to manage this thing it could have been a disaster. The 119 Calder, Amanda (2008) NSWPOL PR, Interview 120 Gayle, Amanda (2008) MPU Case Officer, Interview
76
SOPS provided the info for you guys to understand our core -
business and for us to understand what your imperatives are
– they are really like a bible. 121
Nonetheless, what is defined as ‘operational’ for police, can quickly
become restrictive for producers. Even though we had unique
access, the SOPS provided early evidence that we would have to
work under strict protocols. Such restrictions are illustrated here:
( a) a 4-day filming week not the usual 5 or 6; ( b) no story would
go to air without a full set of formal releases – on-camera
agreements were not acceptable by police; (c) a release could be
withdrawn up to seven days after it had been signed – this is
devastating if the story had already been shot and edited; (d) if
police did not want to follow a story, we would not – raising
questions as to who is the real film maker; (e) the film crew could
only film with the police appointed PFS (Police Filming Supervisor) -
as there was only one PFS, this meant we could only use one crew
to film and if we had more than one ‘hot’ story, we had to decide
which story to follow; and (f) police would have the right to review
and comment on finished programs – in effect, if they did not like our
response to their comments, they could withdraw from the series.
While we promoted our unfettered access to a unique world of
policing, the SOPS were designed to control access to crucial
information, and at times this included the very people who had a
121 Calder, Amanda (2008) NSWPOL PR, Interview
77
story to tell, places where revealing evidence could be found and the
duration of filming each day and week. Of all the grids of control that
can impact on this type of evolving factual production, this almost
intractably binding document, written by police lawyers and
designed to be bullet proof, was to have a profound effect the series
several times in the course of the filming.
Were the SOPS necessary? Inspector Calder argues:
We may not have got the staff without the SOPS in place.
When we ask for interest from commanders for staff for the
show it gives them confidence that staff will be able to
maintain the integrity of the police department even if they
inadvertently say the wrong word. It gives the police comfort
on knowing they can just get on and do their work’.122
On reflection, I would argue that this administrative micro-control
was necessary because the existence of the SOPS ultimately got
the series approved by police commanders. Nonetheless, having a
stake-holder with an (almost) power of veto and the actual ability to
pull out of the deal if it did not go according to plan, meant that the
production team were continually ‘treading water’. Moreover, the
daily arbiter of how we were travelling was the PFS, a police officer
effectively deciding on matters impacting a television schedule and
series.
122 Ibid (2008)
78
Because the SOPS made provision for only one PFS, we could only
film with one crew at a time. This meant that if the PFS was
unavailable, there would be no filming, no matter how urgent the
filming was. Inspector Calder clarifies this problem:
With Cop It Sweet that was the main issue, there was nobody
supervising what they were doing, no PFS. The police are
operational and we didn’t want them impacted by the filming,
that is the role of the PFS - to facilitate all filming requests.
And it’s paved the way for all police TV shows who are all
using a PFS today. 123
This was the police’s SOP ‘trump card’, technically their way of
maintaining police integrity in the face of filming imperatives, by
controlling our access to stories and information. From an editorial
point of view, having the PFS present at every shoot, watching the
clock and the behaviour of police, was going to pose its own set of
logistical difficulties.
Therefore, even with our access, parameters outlined in the SOPS
meant that we would have to come up with additional content and
more elements; otherwise we would not have a series. The real
question was, where would we find the extra elements, what would
they be, and how would they impact on what was pitched as a series
driven by real time actuality?
123 Ibid (2008)
79
3.3 Giving birth to a format: a working model beyond NSWPOL
Irrespective of the type of format, my philosophy has always been
that a good producer understands a story before trying to tell it. In a
series like MPU, which relies on unscripted observational actuality,
knowing the content elements - where the story will come from - is
essential. Understanding the content will establish if there are
enough story elements to sustain the format. Building the program
format, identifying and aligning the blocks, is partly a mathematical
exercise designed to provide drama for the audience, flexibility for
program makers, and brand longevity for the Network. Stack these
building blocks incorrectly and the foundations will crumble into a
scheduling, creative and editorial black hole. On the other hand,
spending time on the front end of program development, and the
‘back end’ of the series should be seamless. In our case, dealing
with the development of the ‘front end’, meant understanding fully
the impact the SOPS would have on program elements.
While the SOPS gave police the legal parameters to participate in
the series, they also restricted production in ways that made it
obvious we would have to find additional content, to supplement
NSW MPU actuality elements. On reflection, I consider that the key
SOP regulations that impacted creatively and logistically were the
following:
1. The four-day working week had the most damaging impact: ‘We
requested a four day week because we work an 8 day fortnight and
80
given the show was about the MPU we felt it best to work their
normal work schedule’.124
124 Calder, Amanda (2008) NSWPOL PR, Interview
This meant that we were filming four-fifths
of the time we had allocated in the schedule, or twenty percent less
than we had planned. It also meant that because we could only offer
a four-day week, we were restricted in our choice of crew. The
normal procedure is that crews will arrange a deal with a production
company for a long-term production, but would they arrange one for
a job that was a four-day week? What would they do on the fifth day
and, furthermore, if we needed them on that day, would they be
available?
2. The Police Filming Supervisor, whose role it was to determine if
we could shoot a story, under what circumstances, and where and
when we could shoot, potentially had an enormous impact on our
schedule. The PFS personnel mostly came from the media area
and, not being operational MPU officers, meant that they appeared
sometimes overly cautious, referring almost every decision back to
the SOPS. Compounding our problem was that the PFS role was a
‘revolving’ one. No sooner had one PFS begun to relax and swim
with the ‘television flow’, than they were replaced by a new,
uninitiated PFS. This meant we were back to a ‘work to SOP rule’
situation, looking to make up valuable time each day.
3. The seven-day rule: fearing a backlash from families who agreed
81
to appear on camera, when they realised their lives were going to be
splashed on television, the police insisted we allow these people
who signed up for the show, a seven-day ‘cooling off’ period to
withdraw their consent. As Calder points out:
NSWP have a moral obligation and or duty of care to families
and must, alongside the producer, consider each case before
it proceeds to broadcast. From the outset, we were
concerned that families in their time of stress might say, do or
sign a release they may later regret. Because the TV show
provided them more coverage than a news story, they would
come on board, desperate and looking for help. So we
wanted them to have a 7 day cooling off period’. 125
This rule meant that within seven days of signing, even after stories
had been edited, written and planned into programs, participants
could withdraw their consent. Without such consent, we could not
run a story. The reality is that police took their moral obligation very
seriously, and on occasion, even beyond seven days after the
signing of a release, police would ask us to pull or alter a story,
because a participant had had second thoughts. From a production
perspective, the seven-day window on releases was unworkable,
because this factor had enormous implications for an unplanned
shoot like MPU, that relied on actuality collected on-the-run, as its
primary source of content.
125 Ibid (2008)
82
4. A finite filming period meant that once we reached the completion
of scheduled filming, police seconded from other commands to the
MPU for filming would go back to their respective commands and
the regular MPU officers would begin rostered leave. Because of
this, extensions to scheduled filming were not possible.
5. The police right of review before programs went to air posed a
complex another editorial hurdle. The police Review Committee had
the power to: make ‘recommendations for amendments to episodes
as per their right of veto; approval of each episode before
submission to Network for broadcast; gather feedback from officers
and Commands involved in filming; and monitor privacy concerns’.
126
These five key restrictions meant that there was a real possibility
that we would not film enough content in the agreed schedule, and
there was a related risk that even completed stories could be pulled
at the last minute. Given this reality, I argued that programs needed
This right of review gave police a last minute opportunity to vet
stories as well as the context in which they were integrated into
programs. The SOPS stipulated that we had to listen to police
review comments. However, because of our tight production
schedule, we only became aware of police review comments very
close to delivery of completed programs. The police right of review
after edit, had the potential to become a scheduling disaster.
126 SOPS (2005:21) MPU Operational Orders, NSWPOL
83
just three stories and not the four that Nine was requesting. I
considered that in a commercial half hour program of 22 ½ minutes,
three stories would be enough. Any more stories would require an
editing style that would fragment the program too much, and make
our ‘story count’ even more difficult to achieve.
Although John McAvoy at Nine believed that four stories would give
the program a more vibrant feel, he compromised and requested we
begin a fourth story that would carry over from one program to the
next. He reflected that:
Hanging on the drama is nothing new – CA (Current Affair),
MPU (Missing Persons Unit), RPA (Royal Price Alfred) all do
it. It’s like a tease in News, if something big happens they
hold info off for the sports report at the back. The whole point
is to culminate at the end of the program when there is a
need for resolution and when the resolution is naturally there.
But the bites need to be long enough to give the audience a
feel for the story, that’s a key. 127
The production reality was that, in order to get the bites long enough
and intelligible enough in a program shot on the run, three stories
should be enough, with two resolving in one episode, the third
hanging over to the following week to give a dramatic hook to the
end of a program and bring viewers back the following week. Being
able to hang stories over multiple episodes also gave us more
content, because we did not have to chop a story extensively, to fit it
into one episode.
127 McAvoy, John (2008) Nine Head of Factual, Interview
84
While hanging stories over from one episode to the next sorted a
network issue, it posed problems for police. Inspector Amanda
Calder clarifies their point of view:
It’s important that if a person turns up in subsequent episodes
that they have signed a release before that part of the story
goes to air, because if they turn up they are no longer missing
and without a release can’t be on the program. 128
What Inspector Calder refers to is the one conundrum that I could
never work out. We made the program to find people, yet if we found
them, possibly due to the broadcast of the story, we were unable to
run the subsequent joyous instalments without the missing person’s
agreement. Calder sees it as a moral and privacy issue from the
police viewpoint. 129
Therefore, in an attempt to buy screen time and to make the show
even more relevant, I devised an end of show ‘promo’ that would
highlight three unsolved missing persons cases, from around the
country. This provided an opportunity to promote long-term cases
and, even more importantly, bought us an extra 45 seconds of
content. This interstitial gave us the flexibility to play with story
Morally I could see the police perspective, but
from a logistic and scheduling point of view, I felt that this was an
unnecessary restriction, yet another caveat that would impact
adversely on our story count.
128 Calder, Amanda (2008) NSWPOL PR, Interview 16 March 129 Ibid (2008)
85
content at the crucial dramatic end to each program.
We also began to look at doing more work with the Local Area
Commands (LAC’s) the general duties officers of NSWPOL who did
much of the leg work in missing persons’ cases. The LAC’s provided
extra colour and we were hoping they would be able to work on the
fifth day when the MPU were not available. However, this was not
possible, because without a PFS, who, like the MPU was scheduled
only on a four day a week roster, filming was impossible.
Next in our search for additional content, we looked to specialist field
investigators, such as detectives, search and rescue,
anthropologists and the Coroner. While all these groups were willing
to participate, they would only work under the regulations stipulated
in the SOPS, which dictated only working when a PFS was present.
The PFS was also the liaison between the production team and
families and friends of missing persons. Contact with families whose
devastating journey gave the program its emotional ‘glue’ and the
background to create strong story threads, occurred only under the
watchful eye of the PFS and only in the four-day weekly filming
window. These restrictions impacted on our ability to shoot the
whole story and capture the one element that every great story has,
progression.
86
Progression, in production parlance, is moving the personal into the
general sphere, making a story more complete by making it more
universal and relevant to a broader audience. When a story
progresses, it calls upon greater human capacity, generates great
change in characters’ lives and places them in greater jeopardy.130
Paul Kalina, from the Age newspaper, wrote about one of our
stories:
Losing a near and dear one is a tragedy. But when someone
vanishes it is doubly cruel. Is the person dead or alive? Are
they the victim of an accident, foul play, or misfortune? Were
they suicidal? Or have they opted out, to search for a better
life? Who knows?’ 131
Kalina’s statement identifies elements in our stories that could lead
to strong progression - the capacity for great change. However,
given the SOP restrictions, combined with the reality of not always
being able to be there to film the progressive milestones of each
story, capturing progression in our stories was going to be difficult.
Thus, a pivotal production question arose: what would we need to
counteract our lack of manpower on crucial filming days, where
stories unfolded on many fronts?
In the first instance, we needed to create an environment with
access to more content and control over what we chose to film. We
130 McKee, Robert (1999: 294) Story 131 Kalina, Paul (2007) Missing Presumed Loved ( Article, Feb) in The Age newspaper
87
needed to create an environment, where we could pick and choose
current stories on the bases of possible progression. Due to our
short filming week and other restrictions, this was not going to be
possible in New South Wales. Therefore, we had to consider police
commands in the other States. The overarching problem,
essentially, is that producing missing persons’ stories is far more
complicated than producing gardening stories. Issues of privacy, as
well as the pre-filming time needed to overcome internal policing
protocols, meant that filming current cases involving unfolding
actuality, was not going to be possible in other States.
The only non-NSW filming opportunities were historical or ‘cold
cases’. The ‘cold cases’ required ongoing publicity, they could be
researched and there was a degree of control over the way they
developed. Cold case files are often substantial and afford
interesting filming opportunities of masses of detailed information.
This can include photographs, letters, case notes, all collated by
police to facilitate early and ongoing investigation, and all readily
available. Cold cases were laced with desperate emotion of families
like Lynette Melbin’s mother and father, who have been waiting
thirty-five years for an answer to their daughter’s disappearance:
‘What we’re worried about now is that we’re getting old and we
might die before we find out what happened to Lynette’. 132
132 Melbin, (2005) MPU Series 1, Episode 7
88
Out of necessity, historical or cold cases, became part of the MPU
mix. They also became the ‘glue’ in the MPU equation that bound
segment to segment, with an emotion that all current stories did not
immediately evoke. However, cold cases did not develop or unfold
dramatically, as current cases did. They did not have the actuality of
the unpredictable search, or the urgent chase of a current case. In
effect, we felt that cold cases were not going to be dramatic enough
to sustain the pace needed in a prime time commercial slot. On the
other hand, they were controllable and their risk-free nature (no
privacy issues), was appealing to police commands in other States.
We also decided to use one more location element, not so much
because of its strong dramatic appeal, or out of necessity, but rather
for the ‘feel’ of immediacy it provided. Surveillance footage gave us
a sense of ‘being there’ and gave the material a heightened sense of
reality. As Jon Dovey notes:
The low grade video image has become the privileged form of
TV ‘truth telling’ signifying authenticity and an indexical
reproduction of the real world…a direct and transparent
correspondence between what is in front of the camera lens
and its taped representation. 133
While Dovey is referring to low-grade footage in general, his
comments are especially relevant to CCTV footage, which provides
a sense of immediacy to a story, while raising the possibility in the
viewers’ minds, that they themselves could also have been captured 133 Dovey, Jon (2000:55)
89
on one of these cameras. In a sense, because of this, CCTV
personalises the story for the viewer, without the viewer ever having
to experience the story, or having been to the televised location.
Once we had our elements, the final aspect of the development
puzzle was to transform the pieces into a whole program. Would
programs comprise discrete stories, running one after the other, or
would stories develop throughout the episode, and interlace such as
soap television?
As mentioned briefly before in this study, in 1994, I was asked to
develop Home Truths for ABC Television Documentaries and
Features. Because of schedule and budget constraints, this
observational series exploring the lives of Australian families needed
to be more manageable than traditional observational documentary.
It also had to be more dramatic, to hold a weekly primetime 8 p.m.
slot. Compounding our problems on Home Truths was the key
creative imperative, that participants shoot their own stories,
something Home Truths participant Jeff Lowrey, believes was
crucial to his participation: ‘That was the appeal, my story told from a
very different perspective, my own, how could I say no’. 134
134 Lowrey, Jeff (1994) Home Truths ABC TV, Participant
However, while Lowrey’s enthusiasm was a huge plus, getting
broadcast quality material from amateurs was effectively the real
task.
90
Therefore, back in 1994, in order to mitigate our exposure to the
vagaries of non-professionals shooting their own stories, and the
inconsistency of using the very first digital DV cameras in Australia, I
decided to use two stories in each program. Two families facing
similar issues, for example, single parenting, had their stories inter-
cut against each other.
This ‘two up’ style, which had not been tried with self-shot
observational documentary in Australia, proved to have some great
advantages over similar ‘one up’ programs from the United
Kingdom. However, one of the weaknesses of asking non-
professionals to shoot stories is that they rarely cover the beginning,
middle and end of a sequence, because they are untrained in
coverage or storytelling. Having two families in the same program
meant that there was a better chance of getting a complete
sequence. One family might begin a thought and the other family,
living with the same issue, might complete that thought. Also editing
one story juxtaposed against the other imbued the observational
documentary with a dramatic, soap opera or serial style.
Because actuality in MPU current stories is unplanned, producers
risked not being able to capture the whole story as it unfolded on its
many fronts. My solution to this problem, one similar to that
experienced in Home Truths, was to interlace the stories throughout
the program, using one story to build the drama in another, and
91
holding as much resolution and drama until the back end of the
program – as with any daytime soap opera or serial.
Even with all the above elements, we needed one more, a narrator,
to enable us to bridge information holes, and move the narrative and
drama forward.
Finally, with the elements in place, MPU was shaping up as
something more than an observational series. My producers began
wondering what they had signed up for. MPU producer Meni
Caroutas observed:
I thought we would be making a ‘reality’ program, in so much
as we would follow the daily working lives of police attached
to the MPU. My impression was that we would capture each
moment of the police journey, from the time they received a
report of a missing person, to the final conclusion. 135
However, what he actually found was a hybrid form that built its
distinctive type of narrative, from actuality shot in an observational
style, to mimic reality. In the same way as any folktale, or any soap
opera or sitcom, MPU had captivating tales and fantastic heroes.
However, because it was made to a price and a fast turn-around,
non-observational deadline, MPU was a new genre of storytelling, a
complex elemental program, needing a variety of skill sets, to lace
the elements and ‘make it fly’.
135 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
92
The central question was: who was going to be able to make MPU,
and what skills sets were needed to combine the elements
successfully, so that the end result looked like a seamless
observational series?
3.4 Production style and story overview:
MPU is about real people and not fictional characters. It is
unscripted in the first instance, and, arguably, does not resemble the
conventional drama or reality-type programs normally seen on
television. The creative practice section of this thesis includes
examples of the programme, produced as part of this Masters (see
attached).
From the first report of a missing person, to the door knock that
brings news to a devastated family, MPU provides a front row seat
in an arena of compelling human drama, a real life journey that plays
out daily in homes across the nation.
It is argued here that the strength of the series lies in the
production’s ability to access the unique world of the MPU, their
specialist support groups, the Coroner, the families and friends of
missing persons, personal photographs, home videos and
surveillance footage. The degree of access to these elements
determines the ‘feel’ of the series.
93
MPU is not a covert operation shot by hidden crews. The old saying
that ‘if the shot isn’t good enough, it’s because you ain’t close
enough’, probably rings true here. The MPU ‘feel’ is based on
unprecedented access, and real access is best represented on the
screen using a widish lens, shot close, with a very intimate feel, that
demonstrates the filmmaker is in the thick of the story.
Scene setters are essential. However, MPU cameras need to be
amongst the actuality as it unfolds, either in the MPU, with the
coroner in their forensic lab, investigating in the field, or feeling the
emotion with our families. A single camera, hand held and close, is
the key to feeling the emotion and the reality of MPU. Being there at
the start of a story is vital, as one of the strong dramatic elements of
investigation is the altering emotional state of players as the
narrative unfolds.
While MPU is not drama, at the same time it is highly dramatic. It is
not infotainment, yet it is laced with ‘high tech’ forensic investigation.
It is about real people who have something authentic to tell us and
something new and exciting to show us. Whether it is procedural
actuality from the MPU, or an emotive cry for help from relatives, the
marriage between these two realities creates the MPU drama. Like
any great dramatic chase or journey, there is always a beginning,
middle and an end. Being there for these milestones is the key to
developing the MPU narrative.
Hence, for these reasons, it was important to avoid drama
94
reconstruction. The emotion of raw material captured in real time,
showing the MPU’s skill, frustration or joy and the family’s desperate
attempts to keep hope alive, became the ‘glue’ for MPU and the
driving heart of the series. However, even though there are over
30,000 cases reported each year, choosing the cases that work best
for television, those with progressive elements that would develop in
our shooting timeframe, proved the production team’s greatest
challenge.
The Nine Network agreed that three stories should be included in
each half hour program. This meant we needed 33 cases for the 11
half hour episodes in Series One. While this sounds like an easy
task over a 26 week shooting period, the rate of family drop-off,
along with issues of privacy, made this a tall order.
Initially, the concept was based around current stories, cases just
reported. Even though one missing case is reported every 18
minutes in Australia, persuading distressed families to agree to be
filmed, was not always easy.
Therefore, the process for current case reporting developed as
follows: cases were reported to police, entered onto a computer
database, and downloaded by the MPU the following morning. The
PFS and our producer would look over cases and decide on those
worth pursuing. Families of missing people were then called to
determine if they wanted to be involved in filming. If they did, we
would call them again, with our camera rolling and begin their story.
While about half of our families were willing to participate, we quickly
95
realised our production schedule would restrict our ability to produce
the number of current stories required to make the series. As
mentioned, to increase our number of possible stories, we had to
include non-current or cold cases devoid of the drama of current
case searches. Also as previously discussed, the unfolding search
was the key to creating the MPU hanging drama style. To overcome
the tired feeling of cold cases, we needed a ‘fresh hook’. The need
for this hook reduced the thousands of cold cases at our disposal, to
only a few.
Another political dilemma was that NSWPOL became keen to film
more cold cases, because these cases needed the publicity, were
more controllable, and families who were already over their initial
shock were more willing to be involved. Not wanting NSWPOL to
take the easy option and ask us to film more cold cases, as
producer, I had to involve other States in cold case filming.
While the cost of development required to film current cases in
states other than New South Wales was prohibitive, Victorian Police
were agreeable to filming a couple of more manageable cold cases,
that could be planned and filmed quickly, in just a few days.
Therefore, our program was shaping up to include current cases
interspersed with the odd cold case, with a more immediate hook,
such as a new search or a new clue, to provide a feeling of
currency.
96
Our inability to construct closure to current cases also posed a
problem, especially if the case stretched over a number of episodes.
This led to the development of a closure device, the personal plea.
The plea made sense in a cold case that was newly activated, with
no movement or information flow for some time. However, asking a
family to do a plea in a current case that may not air for some time,
seemed both insensitive and almost irrelevant, compounding our
already difficult problem of persuading families to agree to film their
stories. This concerned producer Meni Caroutas:
A big difficulty in trying to get a family on board, was that the
story we were asking them to do, would not see the light of
day for weeks or months. Therefore it was hard to say to a
family, especially on current cases, that our story would be
shown straight away, leading to their loved one being found.
There was no real advantage to the family. 136
We rationalised that the tangible benefit to the family was that
something was being done, and that the eventual broadcast was
better than no publicity at all.
Pleas also provided a strong emotional closure to episodes and
continuing stories. Our initial pleas were made on cold cases.
However, as soon as we heard one and felt the emotional impact,
we knew that pleas had to be made for all cases. Undoubtedly,
pleas made great television, so they would remain.
136 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
97
We now had the elements and the style with which to construct our
new format. The question was how would it look and what skill sets
were required to make it happen?
3.5 Skills Overview: Building a team that works
I interviewed and hired a number of staff in key creative areas,
before I found those with the right combination of storytelling skills to
stitch together all the MPU elements.
MPU is a particular type of program that needs a person with a
specific mindset. Peter Abbott, former Executive Producer of Big
Brother, believes a person’s interest in the material is crucial:
People end up making programs like themselves. That’s why
I always want to know a person’s next job, what do they want
to make after this job, it tells me what they want to do and
does this job logically fit onto that path or is it just a job.
Because I don’t think you can do it intellectually – you can
use your skills or techniques but some where it wouldn’t
work.’ 137
Peter Abbott’s view is valid, up to a point. A person needs the right
attitude, but without the right skill set, no amount of attitude will work
in fast turn-around TV:
There are people who are good at acquisition and those who
are good at process. On Big Brother we had people who did
one or the other and they wanted to have a go at the other, 137 Abbott, Peter (2007) Executive Producer Big Brother, Interview
98
but it became quickly obvious that they were only good at one
or the other. So some were good at collecting the material –
picking up on the emotions as they happened, and others
who were good at synthesising these and put the show
together in an interesting way’. 138
Importantly, MPU field producers were not going to hand their work
over to edit producers. Therefore, putting together a team
comprising people with the right mindset and skill set, who were
good at both field and post, was going to be another important factor
in determining the level of MPU success.
In my experience, many practitioners who choose at one time or
another to work in television, believe it will be an easy and regular
filmmaking job, with a weekly income. There is also a perception
that an MPU-type program on television will primarily be driven by
technology; someone presses buttons in the field and then someone
constructs it in post-production. Nothing is further from the truth in
practice. Never have storytelling skills been more crucial than in
today’s fast turn-around digital television environment.
Documentary filmmaker Ken Burns sums up this digital dilemma
where the technological ‘tail’ seems sometimes to wag the dog:
I think we’ve lost touch with story narrative, I don’t mean in
the feature film way, but I mean, just our ability to follow
stories. And we still have to realise that this is a process that
138 Ibid (2007) Interview
99
involves discrimination, in the best sense of that word, that
we need to be able to choose. 139
Burns’ view was not shared by many who applied to work on MPU;
their perception tended to be that we were making an observational
reality show and that we would simply roll on everything into post-
production. The truth is, as much as we were making an
observational type program, it was also investigative; unless
producers made articulate choices in the field, we were not going to
capture the investigative element, or make deadlines. As with Nick
Broomfield’s documentaries, we had to find our own balance
between observation, investigation and the creative treatment:
So many documentaries you see on television they’re just like
a studio interview. It’s all to do with the person giving
information. It’s not to do with who that person is and their
lives, and I always think that’s such a waste. Why not just
write an article?’140
Moreover, producers had to be aware of all the elements: unfolding
story (observational), writing in an out of stand ups (current affairs),
action overlay and colour moments (magazine), the dramatic
overlap (daytime soap). .
While MPU is all about information flow, we needed to move away
from the standard medium-close-up piece to camera and overlay
style. In our tight schedule, we could not rely totally on slow
139 Burns, Ken (2002:89) 140 Broomfield Nick, (2002:132)
100
developing, inconclusive and hard to manage observational footage.
We were inter-cutting stories and needed information to be
presented succinctly, and for stories to progress in an investigative
fashion. Like Nick Broomfield, I chose to move talent forward in a
story sense wherever possible, ‘I actually really try never to use the
same interview…to go back to it, because I feel that you’ve kind of
gone
backwards …’. 141
We did capture the action in the way of an observational
documentary, but I think we also used the ‘CAF’ (Current
Affairs) style of telling a story. Sometimes the natural
progression of things doesn’t tell the story very well, so there
were occasions where sequences were ‘set up’. A phone call
in the office, a grab from a cop etc to link and explain things
that had happened. But overall the essence of what was done
was accurate and true.
Where possible we adhered to this philosophy
and chose not to return to the same location, unless the story
dictated it. However, unlike Broomfield, we did not have months to
spend filming stories. Our schedule dictated we needed at least a
story every week. Given that our current stories were not
researched, and had the potential to unfold on many fronts
simultaneously, it was always going to be a challenge to cover
stories in a purely observational style. Our producers needed
investigative current affairs skills to discover the narrative, and move
it quickly from one element to the next, in the right direction:
142
141 Ibid (2002:133) 142 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
101
Because of the pace needed to sustain a prime time commercial
slot, MPU producers needed, in a subtle way, to pick and direct
information delivery, to help the story along. This required a deft
story sense, a skill often developed from prior, non-television
experience:
My police background allowed me quickly to build up a
rapport and trust with the police, which I believe is vital to
being successful. My current affairs background made me
conscious of all the elements required to put a segment
together, but overall the style of storytelling in MPU was
different to anything I have ever done, and the new skill set I
acquired made me a much better storyteller. 143
Producer Meni Caroutas is very special; because of his police
background, he was quickly able to come to grips with police
protocols. However, it is the storytelling skills that he and Justine
Ford brought with them from their News and Current Affairs days,
which were most useful to develop and focus MPU stories quickly.
Nevertheless, Justine Ford, a very experienced producer, found the
transition testing:
I wouldn’t say I had all the skill sets to direct and produce
MPU stories although having a journalistic background did
help enormously. I learnt that constructing a current affairs
story is significantly different to constructing an observational
documentary piece with narration. It was exciting to learn how
a story could be enhanced by allowing it to ‘breathe’ through
143 Ibid (2008)
102
expansion of actuality and by using minimal, but well
considered, voiceover. 144
Thus, it is this ability to capture story on the run and to let it breathe
in the edit, so to speak, which gave MPU its distinctive style.
As Justine points out, the most important skill that producers
needed, was an ability to write ‘in their heads’ on the run:
I think writing skills are enormously important on a show like
this and I am glad that I studied journalism and worked in the
fast paced world of news and current affairs where it is
important to write a lot – and fast! In addition, having worked
with police on shows such as Australia’s Most Wanted meant
that I had an understanding of police operations and culture,
and my work on observational documentaries (without
voiceover) like Border Security and RPA gave me an
understanding of the way ‘real life’ stories unfold.145
Writing on a show like MPU often happens in the experienced
producer’s head while filming. Without the skill to do this, the post-
production process would take too long, because the field elements
required to construct the story may have been missed. This ability to
construct narrative, by covering actuality that moves the narrative
forward, was crucial, especially given that we were never going to
be able to cover every developing element of the story. The key is to
choose a story construction that is achievable, and that also looks
natural.
144 Ford, Justine (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview 145 Ibid (2008)
103
A further requirement for producers was a high level of maturity.
Very often they were working without complete permissions in areas
that could become litigious. However, this, as Nick Broomfield
observes, is what can result in unexpected, observational ‘gold’: ‘I
really don’t have anything. I guess it adds something. It’s not
necessarily a very comfortable way to work, but I do think it
produces something bigger than the imagination’. 146
Indeed, what our team had to consider was that, while we were
starting with nothing more than a report, we were producing a series
with many facets and information holes; yet the whole program had
to look seamless. The style involved no lighting, no angles that
‘screamed’ artistic elegance, and no dissolves. In essence, we were
producing an observational program with a strong investigative
narrative, designed on the fly and interlaced in post-production.
In this process, our editors became the key to shaping the final
product:
When I first came on I was as an assistant editor and at that
time I was more preoccupied with being able to complete all
the technical aspects of editing rather than worrying about
what type of program it was. At that point it was about fulfilling
a technical/operational skill set on a program, whatever the
program. And when I had the opportunity to change focus
beyond that I was already involved and aware of what the
146 Broomfield Nick, (2002:134)
104
program was, although I certainty under-estimated the
complexity of it.147
The complexity that MPU senior editor, Marcos Moro, refers to in
this quote, is the combination of skill sets required to edit MPU:
I think to be able to see a story for what it’s worth and to be
able to get that across as straight forward as possible. To be
able to peel it back and get out what emotions are most
common for all of us. What do we want to get out of this
scene? Sometimes it’s information. Dave was last seen here
buying blah, blah. Sometimes it’s just that Dave is missing
and his mum wants him back home. You need to be able to
get that across as simply as possible.148
Unlike many fast turn-around television programs that use discrete
field producers, writers and editors, who all work to a third party
script, MPU works to a ‘layer cake’ approach and needs story
editors who can cut editorially. The positive aspect of allowing
producers to edit their own stories is that they gain an intimate
perspective. Alternatively, the ‘downside’ is that they can become
too close to their own work, and lose the story in their passion. The
‘layer cake’ approach was designed to give the program different
layers of input to safeguard against misdirected focus, while
maintaining the field producers’ input. This method required editors
with an opinion and a strong story sense, who could argue with
producers at a level that moves story forward.
147 Moro, Marcos (2008) MPU Editor, Interview 148 Ibid (2008)
105
Crucial to the ‘layer cake’ is the cameraman. Because the show
needed an observational feel, we had to shoot hand-held and the
cameramen had to be physically strong. They also needed an
editor’s eye in order to see the story develop, follow the action and
shoot story cutaways without direction. Long observational
monologues would not work on prime time commercial TV, therefore
story cutaways, to heighten the drama and compress or extend the
main narrative in post, were critical to achieving the fast dramatic
feel of MPU.
Although many camera people will attest that they can cover this
type of unfolding actuality, what is particularly required is the special
camera person who knows when to drop out of one shot and move
to another. This means hiring camera people who are experienced
enough to listen to and feel the information, and confident enough to
know that they have captured what is needed, then move on to the
next sequence.
Comparatively speaking, in relation to observational-type programs
generally, MPU was made on a shoestring, with a very small team.
This made it even more critical that the team knew what was
demanded by the stylistic and production imperatives. The following
section contains a thumbnail summary of the skills required by each
member of the team:
106
Executive Producer: requires good editorial skills with journalistic
ability, fast turn-around and long form experience, a sense of story
and the ability to write and craft the program, away from the obvious
current affairs or observational feel.
Series Producer: needs journalistic and story skills to identify
episode arcs and the ability to write draft narrative quickly.
Production Manager: must have fast turn-around and long form
experience and an ability not to panic when the stories dry up.
Production Coordinator: requires extensive experience in managing
changing shoots and fast turn-around edit situations.
Producer/Director: Field and post experience required with strong
people, visual and story skills and the ability to construct story on the
fly. An understanding of legal aspects of filming (defamation, privacy
etc) is essential. Their foresight and relationship with the players is
vital. They need to be observer and confidant, creative and
managerial, while they follow action and cajole story. Above all, they
need to know and recognise the elements that make an effective
story, as it unfolds on varying fronts.
Associate Producer: They research and produce the historical
stories and if required work with the editors to complete stories while
producers are still in the field. Ideally they are able to pick up a crew
or DV camera to film when required. They are responsible for
keeping abreast of stories and the comings and goings of police,
107
investigators and families. AP’s will receive a daily editorial update
on the shoot, pick ups and advice on story development.
Camera: the camera operator will need to be experienced in
following a developing story without a script. They need to be able to
listen to unfolding story and capture the same, including all actuality
on the fly. Overlay and cutaways are essential, as compression and
expansion are key elements of the format. Being in good health is
vital as the shooting is almost all hand held.
Sound: Extensive experience in location sound recording, in a
variety of environments and being able to work effectively with a
boom, to cover a wide area of impromptu dialogue.
Editor: Needs good storytelling skills and a proven track record of
being able to identify and cut unscripted stories on their own. They
need fast turn-around current affairs and/ or magazine type
experience, but extensive experience in creating long form story arc
skills is also crucial.
3.6 Story type and filming overview:
On MPU a variety of natural filming opportunities presented
themselves from first report, through to closure. The style of MPU
dictates the crew needs to be present at as many of these
milestones as possible.
108
Notwithstanding this, to think that the observational story always
moves forward without questioning, or prompting from the producer,
is hopeful at best. MPU producer(s) needed the vision & experience
to manage the following: see the story unfold; decide on the story
that’s worth following; know how to prompt and encourage the action
to facilitate useable content and coverage; and finally, be able to
script story structure on the run.
For instance, it was important that producers did not let the moment
disappear for some unworkable, altruistic independent ethic. The
medium of television works well when the action is on screen, being
covered as it evolves, with a narrative that is structured, compressed
or stretched, to move the story forward.
Many factors would impact on our ability to capture our stories;
everything from time, weather, police protocols, to a family’s
willingness to give precious, extra input. It was the producer’s role to
gauge the level of ‘gettability’ and plan the collection of elements
accordingly. This process, documented here, required producers
with a great deal of experience at covering and choosing the
actuality moments needed to construct the narrative. Experience in
the evolving nature of observational documentary was crucial,
otherwise producers would become ‘bogged down’ by the weight of
the material, or become despondent by the seemingly loose
structure of the unfolding story.
109
Without the ability to research our current stories, the producers did
not experience the task of finding a direction and structure as easy:
I tried to choose stories that I thought were different to the run
of the mill. If I picked a teenage run-away, I wanted it to have
a different element to it: danger for the MP, a hard luck
upbringing, etc or something that would give the MP
sympathy from the viewers. I just get a ‘feeling’ about a story.
I chose a number of stories where the NOK (next of kin) could
not be contacted, which would usually kill a story, but I had a
gut feeling, and my instincts were often proved right. I also
tried to pick stories were I thought the investigation process
would be extensive, giving us a longer story with many
elements. 149
Producers with news and current affairs skills did best when making
stories on the fly’’, and when dealing with issues of privacy and
possible defamation:
I just make sure I don’t blatantly break the law when on the
road, and it’s pretty hard to do when you’re surrounded by
cops. Privacy is an issue when canvassing because it’s
taking place in public places, but this is overcome quickly with
consent forms etc. I don’t think defamation is a real issue, but
when it is, it’s a job for legals to sort out. 150
While this may seem a relaxed approach from producer Meni
Caroutas, in reality, dealing with issues of privacy and defamation
was a constant hurdle our field crews had to overcome.
149 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview 150 Ibid ( 2008) Interview
110
Early in the filming process, it was important to recognise factors
such as where a story was heading, what elements were required,
how achievable are they, and how long it would take to get them.
Not all stories had an immediately recognisable beginning, middle
and end, but they were stories nevertheless. They had emotion,
character development and a resolution of sorts, in the form of a
plea to the viewer – an emotional call for help.
The way a story plays out in the field has to be controlled, while
simultaneously letting the actuality unfold. Producers needed the
experience to see the elements of a beginning to their story evolving
in front of them: the character development, the realization of the
tragedy, a new lead or a cry for help. These are all signature
elements that could be used to start a story. Once we had a
beginning, we needed to identify the potential middle of the arc,
which could involve the new development, the new lead, or new
characters who move the story forward. The end of the story may be
a resolve to the new leads, the family’s growing disappointment or
elation, the frustration or joy from police, or a plea. The strength of
these elements helped determine story duration and whether or not
the beginning, middle and end, played out in one, two or more
episodes. Finally, the duration of a story was governed not only by
its evolving nature, but also by its emotional impact.
111
3.7 Filming specifics
It was important not to forget that the police and the production
house were joint stakeholders in the project. Persuading the police
to trust the production house, to the point where they allow the
natural flow of filming to continue, on the basis that all the unwanted,
unworkable sections can be edited out later, was one of the crucial
elements of the shoot.
The first aspect this researcher discovered about filming with police
is that, fundamentally, police have a job to do. Filming is ancillary to
that job, but on the other hand, we were filming the job. Justine
Ford remembers: ‘The first time I watched police track down a
missing person, I was amazed!’ 151
An ability to assess what makes a suitable story; an
understanding of how to work within police culture or a
willingness to learn; an ability to express genuine sympathy to
As Justine found out, the most
interesting footage is of police in the line of duty, searching for clues
and talking with families. Police have a reputation to uphold and
need to be seen to be doing their job, according to regulations.
Therefore, the most difficult filming scenario is, ironically, when the
actuality becomes, in a sense, too real, too emotional, or too
dangerous. However, these times are also the most exciting,
requiring a deft touch from producers who must demonstrate a
comprehensive skill set, and in particular:
151 Ford, Justine ( 2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
112
the families of missing people; interviewing skills; a sound
knowledge of shots required, framing, show style, writing
skills (and) an eye to detail to ensure accuracy. 152
These skills enable the program to be shot in a flowing style that
keeps the production on schedule and, more importantly, allow
police work to continue throughout the filming process. Stopping and
starting action, or getting police to repeat action or dialogue might be
required; however if this is done too often, the result may be that the
police feel either uncomfortable and/or that they do not have the
requisite talent to do this. The police view is that they know about
policing and what they deliver to camera, is ‘real policing’. Therefore,
a flowing filming style, using a hand held camera and no lighting, will
make police feel as if they are not being set up. Hopefully this will
encourage them to feel part of the moment, and not worry about the
technical aspects of filming, or what they are saying and doing.
However, the reality is that any prime time program on a commercial
network requires pacing and compression, and producers on MPU
(under the guidance of myself as series producer) had to capture the
crucial elements to enable this construction to occur in the edit. This
meant that the action overlay required to extend or compress
sequences, needed to be filmed on the run. Sufficient action overlay
enabled us to use patch up voiceover (VO), recorded after the
actuality, instead of going for a second action take during filming.
152 Ibid ( 2008)
113
Recording a field VO on the run does not slow police work in the
same way as a second or third take might. Capturing extra VO to
make more of the police’s ‘key statements’ is crucial to delivering a
show like MPU with its strong information feel and public message.
The pivot to all this is building trust:
Trust is absolutely integral. It is essential that officers can
trust producers with sensitive information. This is a key way
to forge a solid relationship with on-camera police and it’s of
enormous benefit to the filming process. 153
Reminding police of the community-minded imperative of the
program was crucial throughout, in order to achieve the best result,
in what for officers is a new and difficult role, being the cop on
television.
Reinforcing positive aspects during filming is crucial and that is why
the second take, special close-up or voice recording, are only ever
done to punctuate an already important point police have made, or
to translate the complex language of policing, into lay terms. Experts
and police, in particular, understand a request couched in this way.
The real point here is that, because police are trained to be curious,
too many retakes or alternative versions may have them thinking
about the various possibilities of being misrepresented:
Police are by nature suspicious of the media and with good
reason. Getting them to allow themselves to be filmed, and in
153 Ibid (2008)
114
the course of that, putting their actions under intense scrutiny
was difficult. 154
Therefore, keeping coverage simple and flowing became a key
scheduling and psychological imperative of the MPU production
style. Filming with families is another crucial element and one that
delivers the emotional ‘glue’ that binds MPU programs, for the
reasons people go missing are varied:
I learnt that up to 40 people can be reported missing every
day in New South Wales alone and they come from all walks
of life: teenagers, dementia sufferers, absconders from
mental health facilities, missing bushwalkers…the list goes
on. So it made sense that there would often be cases to film
and that many of them would have happy endings. So I have
been privileged to produce many stories that have featured
dramatic and inspiring elements as well as excellent police
work. 155
However, what producer Justine Ford also learnt, was that the
investigation only begins after police meet families, as this will often
reveal significant, telling signs as to why their loved one actually
disappeared. For example, a husband may ask police to investigate
the disappearance of his wife, provide background information, and
agree to film. Police may find the wife, who then provides a
completely different story of life with a wife basher. This happened to
the production team on one occasion and once the wife was found
and her story recorded, the husband revoked his consent, fearing
154 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview 155 Ford, Justine (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
115
that his wife’s story would discredit him. Without his consent, we
could not run the story.
The most difficult aspect of filming with families is that we are asking
them to become involved with production at the most emotional and
traumatic moment of their lives, that is, when dealing with the loss of
a loved one. Compounding the problems of working with families is
the fact that any interview or plea they make will not be broadcast
that evening on the news, where it might bring about some
immediate good, but months later as part of a documentary series.
Our producers needed the skill to convince families that filming was
an opportunity to provide police with information, to assist what
could be a ‘long term’ police investigation. This is why the plea was
important:
I tried to overcome this by telling them that their story might
impact on other families, and stop others from going through
the turmoil they were experiencing. Many families were also
reluctant to air their personal business on television, so I tried
to explain that we were not about making judgments that we
just wanted to show the police at work. 156
Hence the program represented an important opportunity,
irrespective of the delayed broadcast (we never misrepresented
ourselves a daily show) to reach their loved ones, or someone who
knew their whereabouts.
156 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
116
To facilitate this fast turn-around style, we shot with a small three-
person crew (producer, camera and sound). We used a Digi
Betacam and shot supplementary DV footage when required. We
filmed everything hand held, even interviews in order to create a
very immediate feel and so as not to slow police procedure and not
frighten families with lots of gear. Tripods were used sparingly and
mainly for forensic-type work or pans. Lights were never used.
The audio plan was to capture actuality sound as it happened.
Sound was recorded mainly on boom, as this proved to be the most
effective way of moving around a room full of people. Radio
microphones were only used when required, and if time permitted.
Generally the MPU case officer wore a radio microphone, but all key
audio was, more often than not, recorded using the boom.
The following chapter will elaborate further on the post-production
aspects of Missing Persons Unit.
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Chapter 4: Missing Persons Unit Post Production
I don’t think you ever have a different story in the editing
room. When you’re out in the field, if you don’t get the
material that tells the story, no matter what you do in the
editing room you can’t put it together to say something. And I
think when you’re in the field you see different themes
emerging, different stories being told. And I think in the
editing room you see strong scenes that take you to certain
places and how things start to connect.
Barbara Kopple, Documentary
Filmmakers Speak
The editing process always has a crucial impact on a program, and
never more than when weaving a multitude of elements, such as on
MPU. As one critic observed:
It is in the editing room that many directors find their greatest
challenge and fulfillment. It is in the editing room that
documentary unlike story-board based fiction film, is more
often than not conceived, structured and born. 157
While this is a valid point, in a fast turn-around show like MPU, the
editing schedule is, by necessity, very rapid. MPU comprises
observational content that needs to be woven into a tight soap like
program format written to commercial breaks. The post-production
period consists of story offline, compile and audio sweetening. The
general rule is that we allowed two and a half day’s offline per story,
a week to compile (re-cut and write) and one day audio sweetening,
157 Lier, Miryam van (1994:3)
118
plus two hours for the mix and re-stripe. When the show extended
to one hour for Series Two, we had an extra, one-and-a-half days in
offline and an extra day at audio, with compile remaining the same.
This meant that our one hour ‘obs-doc’ style programs were
completed in three weeks.
This is a very fast turn-around for an observational type of program
that is laced with strong narrative. One hidden danger of editing so
quickly is that funding bodies and networks expect the process to
happen faster each time. Evidently, in factual programming, that is
not always an easy call. While drama editors spend their time in the
suite finessing cuts and trying to heighten the scripted drama,
factual editors have to find a structure and the drama, and this
layered process takes time and money.
Factual editors have the additional task of creating a sense of ‘being
there’ for the audience, and of shaping the material in a way that
develops the argument:
[This] first approach will tend to prevail in certain type of
observational documentaries…With the second which is
sometimes referred to as expressive or constructivist editing,
the intention is more to align or combine images and sound
sequences in such a way that meanings emerge more
through the contrasts, echoes and reverberations between
shots. 158
158 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997:206)
119
I do not consider that the two approaches Kilborn and Izod refer to
above are necessarily mutually exclusive. On MPU, the editors
needed to create a sense of immediacy, of being there, and also to
construct images that contrasted, especially when interlacing
stories. The aim for our editors was to edit to our style and create a
varied rhythm and pace that became signature to the program. This
developed into another debate as to what extent the finished
program was ‘real’ or a representation of reality. To keep it more at
the so-called ‘real’ end of the spectrum, I decided against graphic
elements or frame manipulation in the body of the program. Where
possible the focus remained simply on the subject and the story.
Our edit process was two fold - offline and compile. The main task in
offline is to tell clear stories, segmented with a hook to a dramatic
tease. At the compile, the segments from three stories are woven in
a soap opera style, to reach a dramatic finale both at commercial
breaks, and again at the close of the program, and if needed, to
carry the plot across programs.
Story segments were between 35 seconds and 1’30’ long. Because
program segments were relatively short, five to seven and a half
minutes, we only inter-cut two stories against each other. Exceptions
occurred sometimes at the end of the last segment, where an
update may occur on a third story.
To obtain this intricately woven soap opera style without a pre-shoot
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script is not easy in post production, especially on a tight schedule.
Therefore our first decision was to build in-house edit suites to give
us more out-of-schedule hours viewing and edit time.
4.1 Offline Edit
One of the earliest decisions we made was to buy rather than hire
edit suites. With the reduction in cost of non-linear edit packages we
were able to purchase Final Cut Pro (FCP) suites for offline. This
was important to John Gregory, the CEO of Freehand, who
observes: ‘The first driving factor to putting suites in was cost, but
soon we realised the positives to the project with respect to
crafting…and it makes the editors a part of the whole collaborative
process’. 159
159 Gregory John (2007) CEO Freehand, Interview
John Gregory refers here to the advantage which
accessibility provides to the schedule and knowledge transfer.
Having our own suites in the office made it possible for producers to
view their cuts after standard working hours, and prepare changes
for editors. This saved a great deal of time. Moreover, it meant that
editors were around for production meetings and could have an
input into field production decisions. Hence, importantly, our editors
felt integral to the whole creative process.
Our edit stream also had field producers working in the suite with
editors. As the positive aspect of this is that producers know their
121
material best, editors do not have to spend as much time wading
through rushes to find the story:
I would hate to not write and edit my own stories. The MPU
approach works because no one knows a story better than
the person who has produced it. Often there is information
about a case that is not evident in any of the rushes, but it
could prove integral to a case. In terms of factual accuracy, I
think you put that at risk, when someone other than the
person who has shot the story, tries to compile it.160
The other benefit is that producers have both the responsibility and
the immediate access to see their stories through to completion.
Those producers with a strong current affairs or news background
can be influenced at times, by a strong story editor to alter their
news style to a more long form storytelling approach:
I’m a big fan of the layer cake. Seeing the evolution of my
stories has taught me a lot, and made me a better storyteller. 161
The final acknowledged benefit of having producers in the edit suite,
in a fast turn-around environment, is summed up by producer /
director Justine Ford: ‘In my view the MPU approach – to be
involved in the story from shoot to edit – is the best approach. It
forces the producer to think about story arc in the field which
enables him or her to craft a better story in the edit suite’. 162
160 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
Often
with flow systems that require producers to hand over fieldwork, they
161 Ibid (2008) 162 Ford, Justine (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
122
may not take as much care, because they do not see upfront the
problems the editor is having constructing their work. Giving them
the responsibility for finishing their own work proved incredibly
valuable during the MPU production process.
Nevertheless, while many producer directors with journalistic
backgrounds share Justine’s view, there is a negative aspect that
emerges in having producers in the edit suite after hours looking at
their material. Marcos Moro, the MPU senior editor on Series 2 and
3, believes producers in the edit suite can be distracting:
it is a great way to work having the producer who shot it in
the edit being able to guide you knowing the story from start
to finish; but I also think it may be an indulgence because
being a producer in the field is a totally different skill set to
being a producer in the suite, and sometimes I think the
producers may be blinded by what they know happened and
what needs to be known for the story to work’. 163
Marcos feels, as many editors do, that field producers often become
too attached to their footage, and want to try this and that, over and
over again. To make matters worse, non linear edit systems
facilitate a potentially endless ‘trial and see’ process that, at the end
of the day, may result in very little edited screen time, because the
producer has been trying different versions of the same sequence all
day. In this situation, a strong series producer who works like a sub-
editor in a print environment, becomes invaluable.
163 Moro Marcos (008) MPU Editor, Interview
123
To counteract this, editors on MPU needed an ability to see the
‘bigger picture’ and quickly wade through story elements, both on
their own and especially with a dogmatic producer in the suite. They
needed the experience and the confidence to help the producer
choose quickly at the slab down stage, to move the story forward.
Overall, MPU editors required genuine storytelling skills. An ability to
cut action is not enough on MPU, which is more than just an
observational series.
Experience in seeing and constructing story elements – beginning,
middle and end – very quickly, is essential. Also important is
appropriate experience in dealing with large quantities of
observational content, at a fast pace. The offline process is very
structured. Editors slab stories very quickly, leaving black holes for
voiceover, in between synchronized grabs without overlay. Stories
are broken into segments, up to one and a half minutes long,
finishing with a hook. The segments are laid into a story time-line,
with black in between each story segment. A story with seven to
nine segments will generally run through a program, where shorter
stories might only run across a couple of breaks.
As demonstrated in this study, the key to strong MPU stories is
strong characters, interesting police work and powerful, authentic
124
emotion:
Actually it’s surprising to me how uniform the stories are.
They seem to have all the same elements to them mostly. 164
The aim during offline is to find such a balance, or as Marcos Moro
defines it, a uniformity between each story, through the use of
recurring elements within each story. It is also important to extend
the story resolution out as far as possible and over multiple breaks.
Not all designed breaks and teasers will play out as a producer
envisages, because programs take on a new life in the edit and
transform again during the compile, which is where story arcs
become program arcs.
4.2 Compile Edit
The MPU ‘compile’ is the place where stories are turned into
programs. Like stories that need strong characters, interesting police
investigation and emotion, programs also require a number of
elements to make them work. Compile is where the programs are
given their emotion, drama and gravitas. This is the part of the
process where the distinct shape of each program is designed and
the overall emotional tone of the series is defined.
Each MPU program needs a policing story, an emotional story and a
strong ‘thread’ story that runs through the program and possibly into
164 Ibid (2008)
125
the next, binding all the stories. Sometimes all three of these
elements can be found within the one story. However, finding a
stylistic difference between stories was the key to giving a program
both texture and the emotional and dramatic peaks and troughs,
helping to make the overarching effect more dynamic.
Unlike some compiles where the process is simply a matter of
‘topping and tailing’ segments, the MPU compile is really a long form
edit that gives the program its documentary feel, shaping the rhythm
to the specified network format. This re-editing sometimes frustrated
our editors:
When I was story cutting, I found it frustrating as I didn’t
understand why certain parts that I thought worked were
changed; but having now been involved further along the line
I realise that although stuff works it may not work in the
greater scheme of things and needs to be sacrificed… 165
Marcos Moro is not alone in his frustrations with the so-called ‘layer
cake’ approach employed on MPU. Producer Meni Caroutas also
had reservations:
I think when you cut from one story to another the impact of
each story can be affected. The viewers begin to get into a
story, then they’re thrown a new case which can be
unsettling. The only complaint I have ever heard about the
show, is that there are too many different stories. 166
165 Ibid (2008) 166 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
126
By contrast, producer Justine Ford sees the process this way:
The layer cake approach allows members of the production to
work as a unified team to continually refine and improve
stories. This approach – that “the show’s the thing” helps us
all to learn from each other, improve our skills and therefore
make a better show. 167
Handing over one’s work, in this case a complete story, to enable
the story to be intercut with other stories and doctored to improve
the overall program story, is all about letting go. This process, where
work is polished until the very last minute, does not suit the
preferred style and working practice of every producer.
In MPU, we decided to interlace our stories in a soap opera-like
fashion, with each story having a different rhythm and feel.
Intercutting stories against each other, rather than running them as
discrete segments, gave us the ability to position the drama to be
most effective. If we needed to carry viewers across the key half
hour break, we would load the segment before the break with fast
paced and resonating emotional content. Judiciously edited, this
enables a producer and editor to create a rhythm and hanging
drama to a break. While it can be distracting if done badly, having a
second story to cut to means we can leave one story early and not
reveal the whole plot, before a break. Theoretically, as in any soap
opera, this will have the audience coming back after the break,
curious for a resolution.
167 Ford, Justine (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
127
Nonetheless, the process of interlacing stories is not always easy.
Figure 1 below provides the graphic example of how such a half-
hour program might look. But which story you start with, which two
stories inter-cut, how you get across the half hour break, when to
introduce the third story, or in the case of the one hour program, the
fourth story, and which story carries over, are crucial dramatic
questions, answered in the compile.
As in any good story, each program needs a beginning, middle and
an end. In MPU this proved to be the most difficult aspect of the
compile. As each story had its own beginning, middle and end and
the program had its own beginning, middle and end, it meant that in
every program of MPU, we were technically dealing with four
beginnings, four middles and four ends.
The only suggestion I can give when working through this creative
conundrum, is that these decisions about what is a story or program
beginning, middle or end, are made on feeling as much as
mechanics. A strong dramatic opening is always good, followed by a
story that has an exciting investigative journey. Next it is necessary
for the plot to shift. Then the stakes need to increase and finally a
resolution of sorts. This of course sounds very like a standard drama
script, and that is exactly what we were trying to create in every
episode; a strong dramatic narrative.
128
Fig 1. Sample story interlace for half hour program
A story that will run through out the program from Seg 1 to Seg 4
can have between 7 and 9 story segments to it.
In this example Story 1 has 8 Segs and Story 3 is the carry over.
Seg 1 Seg 2 Seg 3 Seg 4
Story 1
Story 2
Story 1
Story 2
Story 1
Story 2
Story 1
Story 2
Story 3
Story 1
Story 3
Story 1
Story 1
Story 3
Story 1
Story 3(co)
It was a writing juggling act to seamlessly interlace these stories, so
that the end result is a program that conveys the impression that it
has one dominant beginning, middle and end. Ultimately this factor, I
would argue, is the key to MPU’s watch-ability, and one of the major
reasons why the series stayed at Number One across all networks,
for three seasons.
4.3 Narration
Generally one hallmark of observational documentary is that it is
devoid of voiceover narration and, in its stead, we often use thought
track from the protagonists. Narration in factual films has a negative
reputation and is seen, at its most basic, as a ‘voice of God’ device
from some disembodied character. In documentary, the voiceover
technique has been vilified by some commentators as the destroyer
129
of the pure image, as it is a detached voice superimposed onto and
distorting the pure image. The use of voiceover narration can also
be seen as ‘unimaginative and incompetent’ 168
The expository text addresses the viewer directly with titles or
voices that advance an argument about the historical world.
…The expository mode emphasises the impression of
objectivity, and of well established judgment…the viewer will
expect expository text to take shape around the solution to a
problem, or puzzle: presenting the news of the day, exploring
the working of the atom or the universe, addressing the
consequences of nuclear waste or acid rain, tracing the
history of an event of the biography of a person.
and something best
reserved for newsreels or historical documentaries, where
overwhelming didacticism is seen to have a place. Nichols observes
that:
169
As identified above, the main features of narration in documentary,
for better or worse, are: voiceover narration addresses the viewer
directly in setting out an argument (implies forethought and assumes
validity); and the technique offers solutions and /or closure, to
stories.
It is this aspect of providing closure that most interested the MPU
team when we decided to brave the use of voiceover narration as a
storytelling element. MPU is made to a price that dictates that our
crew will never be there for every unfolding event. Therefore, we
168 Kozloff, Sarah (1988:21) 169 Nichols, Bill (1991:34-38)
130
needed a device that would enable us to create continuity and, in
effect, plug the information holes. We also decided to use the
narrator’s voice to move the story forward, to assist information flow
and to provide a large degree of flexibility when shifting or segueing
to other stories, or to the break.
However, ‘voice’ can also be viewed as just one element in the
whole that makes up the documentary language. Nichols further
observes that:
In the evolution of documentary the contestation among
forms has centred on the question of ‘voice.’ By voice I mean
something narrower than style: that which conveys to us a
sense of the text’s social point of view, of how it is speaking
to us and how it is organising the materials it is presenting to
us. In this sense, voice is not restricted to any one code or
feature, such as dialogue or commentary. Voice is perhaps
akin to the intangible, moiré like pattern formed by the unique
interaction of all a film’s codes and it applies to all modes of
documentary. 170
And that is how we intended the narrator’s voice to be experienced
in MPU, as one of the story elements, albeit a key element that
helped move the story along. We were hoping that, for the most part
‘the word of witnesses, uncritically accepted, (will) provide its own
validation’. 171
170 Nichols, Bill (1983)
We designed our narrator’s voice, where required, to
assist this imperative and to drive the story through truncated (for
171 Ibid (2005: 25)
131
time reasons) narrative and missing actuality.
As with any program, the aim is to create a style that says, in effect,
that interviewees never lie: ‘What I am telling you is the truth.’ Then
we the audience ask, ‘Is the Interview telling the truth?’ 172
The
degree to which the audience believes the televisual narrative will
depend in MPU on the appeal and veracity of interviewees - the
police and the families and friends of missing people, and the
balance between the voice of the interviewees and the voice of the
narrator.
Furthermore, the impact narration has on a program is always a very
personal view. What for some is a ‘voice of God’ destroying the pure
film image, is for others, an essential tool of the storytelling trade.
Producer Meni Caroutas says that the narrator’s role is pivotal: ‘He’s
(sic) the storyteller, guiding and informing the audience, but most
importantly he reminds them where each story is up to during
various segments’. 173 Producer Justine Ford sees it slightly
differently: ‘The narrator’s role is to use minimal and impactful
voiceover to increase the drama. It’s not to paraphrase the words of
missing people and their families – that is the role of actuality’. 174
172 Ibid (2005:25)
While these two views seem similar, they are significantly different.
Meni sees the narrator as the storyteller, while Justine sees the role
173 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview 174 Ford, Justine (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
132
as one of supporting the actuality. In this difference lies the craft of
storytelling. Too much narration, used the wrong way and the
storytelling focus shifts; the viewer’s interest is lost. Too little
narration, and the right dramatic, or information moments are not
supported, and the viewer’s engagement may also be lost:
On the one hand, huge numbers of viewers enjoy
eavesdropping on the lives of others…On the other hand,
television cannot risk losing the interest of viewers by leaving
them in the slightest doubt how to understand what they are
watching. Hence the appeal of the expository mode, in which
a narrator or presenter, reinforces the central message of the
program to combat the distractions in the home. The
hybridised documentary (MPU) can get the best of both
worlds, being able, for instance, to make use of both a
commentary that provides a historical context to what is seen
and a direct access to the words and actions of the people in
front of the lens. 175
Kilborn and Izod have described above the way we used narration
on MPU: to reinforce a central message, supplement a lack of
information from on-screen players, and drive the story forward in
the desirable dramatic direction. However, narration also has
another impact that is often not discussed. Knowing that voiceover
narration will form part of the elemental scope of a program can
influence how a producer works in the field:
When I begin planning a story script, I factor in where
narration would provide the most impact or be most needed.
My vision for a story always includes consideration of the
175 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997:75)
133
voiceover script which I try to craft around the actuality to
marry with my vision. 176
The strength of planning for narration early in the production process
is an important aspect of creating a more definite structure. The
danger is that, for reasons of expediency, possible strong driving
actuality will be replaced by narration. Subsequently, a preference
for voiceover narration may lead to even more editorialising:
Robert Epstein’s award winning documentary The Life and
Times of Harvey Milk (1984) uses narration at the very top of
the film to set up the death of Harvey Milk and put the
position of the film maker supportive of Milk, his politics and
his sexuality; saddened by his death; angered by the law’s
treatment of his murderer. 177
But Epstein also uses his narrator as part of the set up mosaic of
news footage, to establish both Milk and the narrator, as credible
characters to be trusted throughout the film. This expository opening
to the film establishes a style that can be used to pace and view the
film.
This is also how we used our narrator - as a threaded device to
affect the tempo of MPU. However, the desire to make the episode
‘punchier’, can lead to an even greater use of narration. In fact, this
is what happened in MPU at the beginning of Series 3 when the
network deemed the MPU style had to change to include an on-
176 Ford, Justine (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview 177 Bruzzi, Stella (2000:46)
134
camera narrator at the beginning of the program. While MPU
producer Meni Caroutas saw the offscreen voice of the narrator as
pivotal, he did not agree with the on-camera presence: ‘I don’t like it.
The show is about the police and the MPU, and the families they
encounter. The host is unnecessary’.178
178 Caroutas, Meni (2008) MPU Producer Director, Interview
While Meni was not alone
in this view, after three series, the Network wanted a change, and
our role was to facilitate this, without impacting negatively on ratings.
When a program is rating at Number One in its slot, the golden rule
is ‘don’t fix what isn’t broken’. Nevertheless, significantly, it could be
argued that the Network managers broke that rule twice: once, when
they decided to capitalise on MPU’s success, and move from a half
hour format to a one hour format; and secondly when in Series
Three, they decided to include an on-camera narrator. While each of
the above changes did not result in huge audience growth, they did
not scare the audience away and lead to any significant reduction in
ratings. Furthermore, the network was now growing more contented,
still winning the slot and now featuring Mike Munro, one of the
network’s favourite faces, on camera.
Once again, documentary and, in this case, the shape of a
television documentary series, becomes a negotiation between the
film, its subject matter and the desire of the commissioning network
to enhance the particular Network profile, through an increase in the
135
voiceover narrator’s presence.
What these instructions to change from an off-screen to an on-
screen narrator demonstrate, is that the constant evaluation and re-
evaluation that drives commercial network television programming
decisions, at every level of program production. This case study has
attempted to illustrate, as clearly as possible, such significant,
multilayered shifts in the overall development of MPU.
4.4 Music
Not much has been written about the use of music on television.179
Within the aural profile of television, music plays varying roles
and functions, quite apart from its vital job in signaling
programme identity through signature title music. These
functions include generating thematic support for what is on
the screen – indications of historical time, of geographical
place and of appropriate mood being prominent – and
providing formal support for programme organization, pacing
and the shifting ‘intensities’ of portrayal.
However, music is another layer in the production development
process. Music has played an important role in MPU to deliver and
heighten emotional moments and create dramatic points leading to
poignant scenes:
180
We chose Art Phillips as composer to provide music and a score for
179 Corner, John (2005:242) 180 Ibid (2005:242)
136
Series One, which would achieve all of the above and some more.
Basically, however, the philosophy of the brief was such that we
required music that did not fight or work against the scene, in
particular the dialogue, but rather reinforced and heightened the
drama, adventure and emotion:
It’s all about creating more intensity from the script or the
story. Taking the viewer into a deeper journey about what’s
happening with the story, than there would have been, if there
was not any music. 181
As the series developed, we learnt to use composer Art Phillips’
music as a virtual character, to clarify scene emotion and to give
scenes more resonance with viewers:
Music is an invisible character even though sometimes the
music is meant to be coming from the characters point of
view it’s still enhancing that character so I look at it as a third
dimension or an invisible character. So it is really about taking
the viewer into a deeper emotional understanding. 182
The initial idea was that our music score would punctuate a scene.
However, in some cases, using music as a third character resulted
in its driving a piece, not directionally, but for pacing. This posed
another production conundrum: if music is another ‘character’, then
what is that third party ‘character’ doing in someone else’s story?
My view on a great score to any film project – TV,
documentary, what ever – the viewer doesn’t realise there is
music there. The idea is that the composer is on the same
181 Phillips, Art ( 2008) Interview with MPU composer 182 Ibid ( 2008)
137
wavelength as the producer/director and that the music is
working in the way they want the character portrayed
because that’s the way they filmed it, the emotional context of
the words. Hopefully the music is helpful to that
representation. But as a composer I feel less is often better.
And I wonder how less music would have worked on MPU. 183
Art Phillips was not alone in his reflections on the amount of music
used in MPU. Network imperatives for their key 8:30 p.m. prime
time slot determined a certain level of music and this was reinforced
by executives throughout the production cycle. In addition, this
insistence on a particular level of music has historically generated
heated debate from purists:
It is perhaps not surprising that the more the representational
scheme of a documentary is framed by rationalistic
imperatives and concern about ‘balance’, the more music is
likely to seem extraneous if not wholly suspect, an importer of
unwelcome emotion and feeling. 184
On MPU music was designed to illuminate recurring emotional
themes that might resonate in the conscious mind:
Thematic material is based on a motif that might be 6 or 7
notes; those are the ways I think about storytelling. But in
MPU there weren’t recurring motifs, there were recurring
emotional themes, and the music was more varied to cater to
the range of emotions explored on the program. The music
sat more with the obvious than the subconscious. When the
police were searching, that was tense drama and that’s 183 Ibid ( 2008) 184 Corner, John (2005:243)
138
exactly where the music headed, in the same direction as the
police car. 185
Our music exposed the natural drama of a scene by drawing the
viewer into a scene they may have otherwise found it difficult to be
in, for example, a harrowing moment as a mother and father walk
through the woods looking for their missing daughter. The narration
said: ‘a walk no parent should have to make’ 186
185 Phillips, Art (2008) Interview with MPU composer
and the music
helped our viewers make that walk with these distraught parents.
One key to the success of the series was the involving of viewing
families at home, immersing themselves in the unfolding family
drama. For the series to hold an audience and increase the ‘switch
on’ throughout the program, ‘mums and dads’ watching in their cosy
living rooms with their children, had to think that this could be their
personal story also. But just like programs with sick children, our
possible ‘switch off’ factor was high. In order to engage our viewers
with what could be their worst imagined, nightmare scenario
unfolding on the TV screen, we required them to make a huge
emotional leap of faith, that could only be made through the carefully
orchestrated use of music. We were, in effect, creating narrative
drama from non-scripted actuality, edited as a soap or a serial, and
we were not using reconstruction or graphics to assist our stories.
Hence music was the only practical way for us to enhance the
186 Episode 9 - MPU Series 1 (2005)
139
emotion on the screen and create a fluid pathway for viewers to
enter the story. At another level, our music helped, in effect, to plug
the narrative holes that existed because of our inability to film on all
fronts as stories unfolded. The skill was to weave the music in such
a way so that the program appeared seamless. If the viewer noticed
the hole was plugged, we would have failed.
The scored music from Series One was reedited and used as library
music for Series Two and Series Three. This is often a difficult
process, because scored music is scene-specific and can be difficult
to use in alternative scenes.
The composer Art Phillips articulates why this was possible with
MPU music:
Technically this may have been possible because all of the
tonal centres related to each other without anyone realising it.
Much of the music was written in the key of B – which is a
floating key center for me – much of the chordal harmonic
structures worked around that key of B – so when you began
cutting it up things were working together because of the
cohesive tonal center. Added to this is that the emotions were
recurring from program to program and series to series.
That’s another reason why the scored music was able to be
re-edited for another scene with a heart felt feeling – that’s
why it worked. 187
Once producers and editors learnt to work with the music in this
way, they began writing and editing with specific cues in mind, to
187 Phillips, Art (2008) Interview with MPU composer
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strengthen the actuality and narration. In addition, as producers
began to grow more familiar with the style of the program, they
began filming specific pieces with particular music in mind.
The strategy with MPU was to learn to use all the available devices
seamlessly, to create a mood and set the audience off on a ‘roller
coaster ride’ on what could only be termed, our ‘trolley of hope’.
The following chapter will consolidate and elaborate further on the
specific creative practice elements of this Masters thesis.
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Chapter 5: Practical Evidence
I have provided as my creative practitioner component two episodes
of MPU to demonstrate my work as Executive Producer. Firstly,
Episode 1, Series 1
(see Appendix A) is not provided for assessment, but rather as a
reference to indicate the genesis of MPU. The observations on this
episode provide an important background to the style of the series.
The second example, Episode 1, Series 2 (Appendix B) is provided
for evaluation in this Masters project.
I have chosen these episodes based on the following criteria. On the
first episode of Series One, I was series producer and responsible
for the development of the style, the content and the selection of
staff for the whole series. The first episode of Series Two, the one-
hour format, on which I was executive producer, is in the new,
longer format. I am a very hands-on series and executive producer,
and in both roles I was responsible for development, overseeing
story edits and writing the programs. My role on MPU, initially as
Series Producer and then Executive Producer, covered 33 episodes.
Both roles included developing the format and then overseeing all
aspects of production. Even though television and in particular my
layer cake approach, is a collaborative exercise, my role included
signing off on stories, working with producers to restructure story
edits, re-writing story scripts when required and deciding which
stories would go into which episode.
142
MPU programs did not run discrete stories back to back. Because of
the interlaced format, where stories are broken and interwoven
throughout the episode, MPU became, in one sense, an authored
series where my role was to interlace each episode from the stand
alone stories. Which stories go into an episode, how they are
segmented and interlaced, became the key to the MPU format.
Interlacing stories is the editorial phase that creates the hanging
drama synonymous with the MPU style.
Once stories were broken into their 30 to 90 second segments, they
needed to be re-written. Creating the new words, new segue links
and writing the drama into each program, became my responsibility
during the ‘program edit’, the most crucial phase of MPU
postproduction. The result of my creative input can be
demonstrated by increasing ratings from break to break during many
of the programs. This climbing ratings trend throughout MPU
programs was not evident in the fourth series after I left, where
ratings dropped from 1.4 million per night to 742,000. In part, the
drop in ratings can be attributed to a new timeslot, but the dropping
figures throughout the program is generally a factor of production
and of the story telling aspect of the program.
As has been established throughout this study, MPU is a fast turn-
around series. Unlike, for example, Australian Story, where research
can take months and where production is built around a lengthy
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controlled, sit down interview and paste up style, MPU is more
immediate, much less researched and more dynamic in its
approach. Unlike traditional observational programs that can spend
up to sixteen weeks to edit a one-hour episode, MPU postproduction
on the one hour format, was over in just three very short weeks.
Three days to edit each story and five days to build the program to
picture lock off, including voiceovers and ‘temp’ music, is incredibly
quick for observational type of material.
Of the 33 programs I made [11 as series producer and 20 as
executive producer] I have submitted two. The two programs chosen
are not necessarily the best of the three series; rather they
demonstrate aspects of what I have been analyzing in earlier
chapters. Essentially, this comprises the production methods and
nature of each program, and crucially here, the differences gauged
in the program ‘feel’, particularly as the series duration is extended
from half an hour to one hour.
No pilot program was ever produced for MPU. The reason that
people with my skill set tend to be brought on to develop and run
these type of shows, is in part to avoid the expense of producing a
pilot, something that networks often see as an avoidable expense.
Fortunately, MPU was very successful from the start, as the first
program of Series One was the highest premiering documentary
series ever funded by the Film Finance Corporation (FFC). The FFC
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went into print to publicise MPU’s resonance with audiences, in
particular driving home the message to independent producers who
felt they should avoid funding a show like MPU, because it was
apparently not ‘true’ documentary. Clearly a need exists for a more
nuanced research method, in order to gain a better understanding of
the popularity of MPU at the program’s ratings height, a ‘need to
supplement ratings with customised research’. 188
Episode One of Series One, the first program in my three series of
MPU, is a half hour format that demonstrates how we began to
develop our actuality-to- narration balance. From the outset, as
indicated earlier, our style was different to the current crop of
Australian cop shows like The Force (Network Seven) and Forensic
Investigators (Network Seven), which all used an on-camera
presenter whose voice also narrated the program. It was apparent
early in the series development, that we would also need a narrator
to help truncate and move our story forward in our three-story half
hour format, and to fill in narrative blanks that were the result of only
being able to film with one crew. However, it was also apparent that
our stars were the families, the police and the missing people.
While such
qualitative audience research is outside the scope and aims of this
thesis, certain significant questions regarding the multi-faceted
nature of the program’s appeal remain open, and further
investigation is recommended in this area for future researchers.
188 Balnaves, Mark & O'Regan, Tom (2002: 61)
145
Therefore, it seemed an obvious decision not to have an onscreen
narrator. This episode analysis is essentially an explanation of the
intricate workings of certain specific production elements, explained
earlier in this study in more general terms.
While the following segment notes relate specifically to Episode One
of Series One, the style elements discussed in them are applicable
to all programs:
The Introduction: this set up the punchy narrative and emotive style
of the show and also introduces the interweaving style of stories, all
in less than a minute. The introduction is in essence a program
‘tease’ designed to set up the dramatic possibilities in the show.
The Titles: These are dynamic and featured families and police
doing their job. They also include graphics that highlight the amazing
statistics such as - one person reported missing every 18 minutes.
These are facts I could never have imagined and we hoped they
would get the viewers talking even before they realized they were
going to watch the program. The titles also include poster-like
elements that were replaced each episode. These elements feature
the faces of the missing people who are profiled on the program.
The titles provide a breaker from the stylistic introduction to the
reality of the show and the MPU.
The Muster: Every morning the NSWPOL MPU would download
cases from the overnight missing reports. However this was usually
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done by the Sergeant and then distributed individually. I wondered
for the sake of drama whether we could have a meeting around a
table where the cases of choice, those we felt would be accessible
and work on camera, could be handed out to MPU operatives
around a table. This creates an arresting beginning to each program
and an effective change of pace from the dynamics of the titles. It is
a successful device, using a controllable event to deliver more
information on featured cases. This then increases the stakes and
takes the specific into the more appealing general level; for
example, the devastating disappearance of teenager Latoya
becomes everyone’s nightmare with a simple line, ‘there are none at
greater risk than teenagers’ 189 conveying the idea that all our sons
and daughters are in danger. The muster also enabled us to set up
a case without much background and jump into the action. For
example in the case of Bill Roach missing for over a decade, the
MPU received almost no notice that a new search was planned.
Because the muster was a neat segue device, it also enabled us to
cut straight to the chase, by letting the viewers know that, ‘Mark will
leave in a matter of hours’ 190
The muster propelled the viewer into
the next storytelling phase of the program, the story interweave.
The Program: In the half hour format each episode comprises four
segments and three breaks. Each of the segments has to finish on a
hook to bring viewers back after the break. And given that we are
189 MPU (2005) Episode 1 Series 1 190 Ibid (2005)
147
only ever intercutting two of the three stories, the critical issue is
when to introduce the third story and which continuing story it will
run with.
The story interweave is made possible because of our ability to use
voiceover. For example, in Latoya’s story the voiceover is used to
increase the stakes and take the story away from just another
teenage runaway case; ‘Latoya’s mum Jasmin, a single mum of
three has been up all night waiting for her daughter to come home’.
This conveys information that Latoya didn’t return home, for the sole
purpose of increasing the stakes. Then the voiceover line, ‘she’s just
heard that her daughter Latoya may have turned up at school this
morning’ 191
which takes the story to its next search phase and a
new beginning, even though Latoya may have been found. In this
case, voice is used to increase drama and move the story on, all in
the space of 11 seconds. The viewer is left with the question; is she
or isn’t she at school?
The series makers have been criticised by some for supposedly
helping the actuality become more dramatic through voiceover and
judicious editing to a hanging question. However, I believe the more
valid question is: did we misrepresent the situation and if so to
whom? Brian Winston makes an insightful point: ‘We have confused
media responsibilities to the audience with the ethical duties owed
191 Ibid (2005)
148
participants as if the outcome of taking part were the same as
spectating’. 192 While he sees two distinct responsibilities, I would
argue that the filmmaker has one responsibility, that being to the
story. Winston continues: ‘The expectation was not only that the
camera would not lie, but that it could not, therefore the silence was
understandable.’ 193
Winston’s ‘understandable’ silence is only
acceptable in a prime time commercial show if it is a dramatic
silence. And as well as story progression, we were trying to help
these silences become more dramatic through the use of voiceover,
music and the opportune edit to another case. The manipulation of a
moment is not immediately about misrepresenting the case, but
rather about making the story clearer (pointed voiceover), or
increasing the already present tension or emotion (music or edit).
Compounding this dilemma is that we are not amateurs, whose
every day cam-recorder is seen to be ‘truthful’. Our cameras are
large and therefore we are seen to be involved in a calculated act.
We are professionals, and as Winston remarks: ‘Manipulation,
distortion and fakery have thus far been required by professionals
(although the home computer is well on its way to changing that)’.194
192 Winston, Brian (2005:181)
To this end we did not use dissolves, reconstruction or any on-
screen devices to manipulate the image. We just moved the search
on from one story to another. On screen, we kept it as honest and
authentic as we could.
193 Ibid (2005:182) 194 Ibid (2005:182)
149
Hence, while Latoya’s mum is at the door and our voiceover has
pre-empted a journey, we cut to the Roach case with her journey
already in progress. Rather than wait for Latoya’s mum to get ready
and leave, or jump-cut her scene to a car, the more seamless way is
to use the momentum on the Latoya case voiceover, to propel the
Roach story into life.
When the cops arrive in Armidale to look for Bill Roach, they have to
wait for the briefing, so again we continue the momentum of the
search by cutting to Jasmin in the police car en-route to school. This
creates a sense of real time without slowing action. When Jasmin
arrives at school she has to wait; therefore we cut back to Armidale,
where the drama is increasing in the press briefing. One search
becomes the other as we interplay the two mothers’ yearning and
searching. The aim is to keep up pace and create a sense of parallel
urgency.
While one family is still looking for information, the other story shows
us a result. One story unleashes a dynamic and the next story
finishes it. While the Roaches sit at the press briefing waiting for
information, back at Latoya’s school we see a result, as police begin
to interrogate Latoya herself.
In segment two with one case solved and one waiting for the search,
we begin another story, the search for missing father Albert Locke.
150
We intercut this with a new and unexpected twist in the solved
Latoya case, as our voiceover tells us ‘Last night after she was
located Latoya disappeared again’. What the voice is doing is
jumping time for the viewer by keeping the clock (the fact that we
have jumped to the next day) relative.
Another example of our distinctive style occurs at the nursing home
in the Albert Locke case. The law states that Albert’s son Colin, who
had been looking for his dad for 30 years, could not be told where
Albert was found unless Albert agreed. This also meant that we
were unable to film the police’s sighting of Albert or identify the
location. Rather than see this as a negative, we shortened the
scene. Not dwelling on our inability to see Albert, we softened the
cut using voiceover and moved to a statement by police outside the
nursing home.
For now, this case concludes in this segment, when police tell Colin
his father is found but doesn’t want to see him. To close the scene
we use a plea from Colin to his dad and go to the program break,
leaving the viewer wondering if the old man will relent.
In segment three we come back with the Roach story, with exterior
action scenes as the mother watches divers search in a dam. The
voiceover tells us exactly why they are looking there and, in the
process, increases the emotional stakes: ‘It’s the place where police
feel Bill’s body was disposed.’ While Yvonne Roach can only look
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on, Jasmin’s frustration leads her to the streets to begin her own
search for her daughter. The episode picks up momentum as the
intercut shows one mother on a cliff waiting for divers to surface,
while the other searches through a deserted house. The voiceover
on Latoya’s mother tells us ‘It’s a parent’s worst nightmare’, but we
cut to Bill Roach’s mum watching divers surfacing empty handed,
and the audience know that it’s also her worst nightmare. The
stakes continue to increase, as two searches become one story of
maternal despair.
In segment four, we are there when Latoya comes home. Back at
the dam we move the story to another area where we find clues
(body fluids). Have police found Bill’s blood? This leads to a new
development when Bill’s mother tells police that Bill was adopted –
and we have a new angle for the story: where is Bill’s birth mother?
And that’s the hook to finish the program on.
The next week’s stories feel like part of the program, but because
this segment is simply a tease, we are able to bow out leaving the
viewer guessing. The end credits are used to deliver more
information as we promote three cases we will not feature. During
this time we interlace information with questions.
By contrast, Episode 1 of Series 2 of MPU (for evaluation) is
MPU’s first one-hour program and demonstrates how the show
changes in the longer format, with the extra story and a little more
152
breathing space. This stands as an interesting example of how a
top-rating half hour format can be altered to bring the network more
screen time, without impacting on the fundamental style of the show
and still keeping the costs down. What the difference between the
two formats also demonstrates is that we only needed one additional
story to fill an extra 22 minutes of airtime, an issue the Network
executives were concerned about.
This episode also demonstrates the use of a developing or hanging
story, an element that became the MPU trade mark: the soap-opera
nature of the show, that left drama points hanging from one program
to the next, and, in the case of the Green story, from one series to
the next. It also shows our first use of parallel action to increase
multilayered dynamics, in situations where the search stops.
In an earlier episode in Series One, we previously ran the story of
sisters Jacquie and Penny’s thirty year search for their missing
mother, Veronica Green. In the course of the investigation, we
discovered a new lead: Veronica had adopted out a baby her
daughters had never seen. Now some forty years after the boy’s
adoption, the hunt is on to find him, in the hope that their mother
may have sought him out when she disappeared.
The introduction to this story provides a strong example of how an
ongoing case can be recapped and updated. In less than three
minutes, we update the story, provide an important recap and
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introduce the adopted brother watching the story on television, to
give new life to an old story. The introduction to this story is an
example of the use of narration to bridge from one series to the next
and, in this case, to provide an update in a complicated story shift –
the police are now widening their search to look for another relative.
It is also our first attempt at playing with time within a story, by using
parallel action intercuts within a story. The concern with parallel
action is that it suggests a filmmaker who is working in two places at
one time. However, if the story is unfolding in real time actuality, the
filmmaker would not be expected to be in two places at once.
However, as the format had been set in Series One and the viewers
had already ‘bought into’ our style, I felt confident about introducing
this more manufactured traditional form of intercut in this story, in
order to create a more dynamic, layered impact.
Case choice was ever-important in MPU. Watching this program
some viewers would say they didn’t find the Green story as
interesting as the case of missing teenager JayDee; others would
say ‘Oh not another missing teenager case’. The greatest difficulty
was finding the right balance for each program. Although the story
mix became crucial, even more important was the duration of the
segment for each story. How long to hold one story and when to cut
to another gave the program its rhythm and its audience holding
power.
With the next case, missing 14 year old schoolgirl JayDee, the real
154
danger was that viewers would switch off thinking it was just another
standard, teenage runaway story. The week JayDee went missing,
we found that we had a couple of teenage runaway cases that we
could have followed. However, we chose JayDee because she was
not a stereotypical runaway. She came from a respectable, upper
middle class home and had a loving family. We increased the stakes
by reinforcing that JayDee had never stayed away this long before,
and reminded the audience that she has no money. We focus on
JayDee’s mother’s anguish and leave the story with the introduction
of a new character, Sam, and the real possibility that the fourteen-
year-old, a chat room addict, is not with friends; rather, something
more sinister is potentially going on. As mentioned earlier, it is
important for our viewers to buy into the story in an empathetic
manner. This can only happen if viewers can share the family’s pain,
and this can only be achieved by presenting a family that is relatively
‘normal’. While this was often not the case in MPU, wherever
possible, if we had a choice, we would choose families that we felt
our target demographic could relate to.
In the Green story, we continue with the new twist in the drama: Will
Steve, the brother whom their mother adopted out at birth, call his
sisters? The aim is to leave the viewer guessing sufficiently to want
to stay with the program until the resolve. This is where narration
can play a pivotal role: ‘As the weeks went by with still no word from
Steve the girls wondered if they would ever get to meet their
155
brother’.195
Because of the tight nature of this commercial format,
the narrator is often used to provide this type of information
succinctly and at the opportune moment.
In the JayDee case, we heighten the drama by involving detectives
in the search to locate JayDee’s mysterious older boyfriend, Sam:
‘We are worried given her age’. 196
The detectives are tough,
experienced specialists and when they say they are ‘worried’, this
signals real alarm, reinforcing that this case is not just another
teenage runaway story. Ethically, the production team was
conscious not to tell police what to say. If, for instance, police said
they were ‘worried’, then this was an authentic response, and they
were not simply ‘playing to the camera’. If they said this openly,
either because they were worried that JayDee was with an older
male, or because they wanted to create an impact with families, we
felt that this was their call. One of the aims of the program was to
convey forcefully to families that what appears to be a simple
runaway situation can turn into a very frightening scenario. Stating
that they are concerned about a teenager who has not been missing
for this long before, and who is suspected to be with an older male,
seemed appropriate editorially and ethically.
Back at the Green home, narration was chosen to allow for a four-
week time shift and to learn that the desperate sisters have now
195 Episode 1 Series 2 (2006) MPU 196 Episode 1 Series 2 (2006) MPU
156
written their brother an impassioned letter. This sequence is another
example of parallel action within a story, when on the one hand we
see the Green daughters telling us about the letter, and their brother
Steven explaining what it was like receiving his sisters’ letter. Even
though this was not our regular style, the use of parallel action
worked to heighten the emotional significance of the letter to Steven
in the making of his decision, as well as to create a sense of
urgency. The program cuts to the break, with the audience still
wondering if Steven will call.
In the next segment, the JayDee case is used to increase the
momentum of the show when the police hit the streets. This takes
the program back to traditional MPU actuality, after the more self-
conscious parallel action of the previous scene. Now we see the foot
police questioning ordinary people, desperate for clues. They get a
new lead and possibly an important clue on Closed Circuit
Television (CCTV) footage. After more than three weeks - have
they found JayDee?
The MPU style, of intercutting between cases enabled us to leave
scenes on a high point with unanswered questions and drama. The
added screen time in our longer format enabled our editors and
producers to spend more time developing the drama. In the Green
story, for instance, we spent time with Jacquie’s children as they
talked about wanting to see their new uncle. In this segment, we
again use parallel action to give the scene some dramatic impetus
157
when Steven calls and they agree to meet. Now that they have
agreed to meet, we shift the story focus back to the original search
for their missing mother Veronica: ‘Now all that’s left to do is set up a
meeting and hope that their mum Veronica will be watching it
somewhere’. 197
While one family is almost reconciled, we reintroduce JayDee’s
mum watching the CCTV footage to try to indentify her missing 14-
year-old daughter. As she watches the CCTV footage, Steven sets
up the meeting with his sisters. While one family is torn apart,
another gains some respite, in their 30-year nightmare search for
missing mother, Veronica Green. The overarching production aim is
to keep a focus on a search happening at all stages of the program,
and this is not always easy when working with unscripted, unfolding
actuality.
Hence, while the brother is found, the search and
our story continues.
At this stage we enter the critical phase of a one hour format:
holding the audience across the half hour break at a time when
other networks are beginning new shows. For this, I needed to inject
new dynamics into the program and I chose the case of Kevin
Moran, an American lost in the Blue Mountains. This case is an
example of an unfolding story that was over when we arrived on
location. As our crew was out on another story, I went off with a DV
197 Episode 1 Series 2 MPU (2006) Green story
158
camera to film and produce the story. When we arrived at search
Headquarters in the Blue Mountains, we heard the good news that
Moran had been located alive by Search and Rescue. The police felt
this was the end of the story, but it was actually, in one crucial
sense, the beginning. Over the next two and half hours, I filmed an
introduction with police to set up the moment before Kevin’s location
was identified and the distinct possibility that his mobile phone,
providing his coordinates, might lose power. This would prove
disastrous for rescuers and cut Telstra triangulation links with his
mobile lifeline. Once this set up was filmed, our MPU police
personnel arrive and the detail of getting Moran to safety and the
concern for his state of health, becomes the story.
The Moran story became an example of what can be achieved if the
producer carefully edits the ongoing story in his or her head.
Focusing on the minutia, the fine details about how Moran was
located and the drama of winching him to safety while bad weather
was closing in, made for a dramatic shift of action in a program that
to date mainly comprised family emotion. The result was a fourteen
minute story filmed in two and a half hours and edited into the
program that evening.
We continued across the break with the dynamic JayDee search
and the Moran rescue. The police led on their wild goose chase by
JayDee’s friend Rachel are even more desperate for clues. Seeing
police in the car following Rachel’s direction shows their concern
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and the lengths to which they will go to find JayDee. The extensive
police effort also further demonstrates that this is not just another
teenage runaway case, for those viewers who felt it was exactly that.
In the remainder of the program, we now had the Moran rescue (risk
and action), the widening and more frenetic search for JayDee (risk
and drama), the Green story and Steven’s impending visit to his
sisters (emotion). We therefore had a supple triangular drama to
intercut. However, there was still one story to come. As a general
rule and because we only ever cut two stories against each other, I
chose the fourth segment to introduce four stories, and raise the
stakes for the hour.
With so much happening in the important back half of the program,
for our fourth case, we needed a short story that resolved within the
episode. In the case of elderly pensioner, Yvonne Davis, missing for
a day, we entered the story with family and police immediately
involved in a search. Intercut with the air rescue of Moran at this
crucial point in the hour format, we were able to increase momentum
and take the program back to the unfolding actuality style of MPU.
After the parallel action style of the Green story, the unfolding and
unfortunate end to the Davis case indicates MPU is a ‘real’ program,
where anything can happen. As the garage door is lifted, we go to a
break waiting to see what police have found behind the door. Some
viewers complained that they didn’t know exactly how Yvonne died;
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other critics said that it was a slip on our part not to advise cause of
death. However, this story, filmed in a few hours, clearly
demonstrates the difficulties the production team faced every day.
Even though we knew the cause of death, we could not release this
information because the case had not yet gone before the coroner.
We were even unable to acknowledge that we knew the cause of
death, because the extended family had not officially been told. And
when they were told, the immediate family asked us not to release
the cause of death. It is always a fine balance between what the
family want, what the police need, what the network expect and
what we believe is right legally and editorially: not always an easy
call in non-scripted unfolding actuality-based programs like MPU.
In the final segment we are left with four possible resolutions, a
powerful way to end a show. The Greens’ impending visit with their
brother Steven provides the family emotion we could not capture
from Yvonne’s family, who were too distraught to speak. Therefore,
here one story provides the emotional register which was not
possible from the other story. The Moran case ends with a
reaffirmation of how serious this rescue was and how it could have
easily ended in tragedy: ‘Another 12 or 24 hours and it could have
been a different story’. 198
With two cases resolved (Moran and Davis), the JayDee case is still
198 Moran case (2006) Episode One Series Two MPU.
161
in full flight with police and her mother, Retha, scouring the streets.
We finish this story with a plea from JayDee’s mother, and end the
program on a perfect hook as the Green sisters almost meet their
brother, ‘There he is, that’s him definitely…’. 199
Throughout this exegesis, the use of the action research method
has opened up and explored the various modulations of how MPU
created a style and a balance between actuality and voice designed
to increase the drama, fill information holes, and move story forward.
We left our narrator off-screen to focus on the story. It is worth
noting that promotional clips for programs like The Force (Seven
Network) that utilise an on-camera narrator to promote the series,
say ‘No more of this…’, referring to the presenter on-camera, ‘but
more of this’, as the promotions cut to actuality. MPU set the style
and now that style is becoming more widely used, with variations.
We cut from this
emotive scene to the next week’s tease before the meeting and the
audience will hopefully be back for the next program to see Jacquie
and Penny meet Steven, and also to find out what has happened to
missing teenager, JayDee.
As the key example of my creative practice, I have submitted
Episode 1 of Series 2 because it was the only program in Series 2
where the style included a mixture of traditional parallel intercutting
within a story and actuality. We needed to use the parallel
199 Green case (2006) Episode One Series Two MPU.
162
intercutting style in the Green story to create immediacy and
currency between the sisters and Steven who was living 1500
kilometers away. Even though this program rated extremely well,
with strong leads reported to Crimestoppers and very encouraging
post-program comments from the public, I would argue, with critical
hindsight, that the Green story suffered from not having the
unpredictable actuality that had become a key signature in the
series.
Some commentators see the use of people in crisis for documentary
advantage as ethically questionable. If the MPU style is seen as
exploitative by some, it could be argued that, as in science research,
documentary might also be justified through claims of advancing
knowledge in the interests of society, in particular relation to the
public’s right to know and understand. 200
In MPU this was the case
as far as the program makers and participants were concerned. We
gave the viewing public more knowledge and awareness of the
social issues surrounding missing people, and they helped police
locate 52 missing people over three series of production.
In assessing the validity of MPU as a piece of television, it is
important to remember that any program can be reviewed on many
different levels: did it succeed with the audience; is it structurally
sound; is it technically proficient; is it exploitative, to name just a few
200 Pryluck, Gavin (2005:200)
163
criteria. MPU was a series made to a price: tight shooting schedules
[Yvonne Davis story filmed in half a day; Moran story filmed in just
over two hours and edited in four hours] always impact on style and
affect structure and this is a reality of fast turn-around television. The
restriction of one crew and one PFS meant that judicious choices as
to what to film needed to be made on the run. Very short edit
schedules meant a particular process for the edit had to be devised
and adhered to. Legal imperatives, the wishes of family and police
protocols always impacted on what information was ultimately
released. The public service aspect of the show, that it assisted
police to find missing people, also impacted on style. These
contextual factors need to be considered when viewing the episodes
submitted as creative practice; as does the fact that, despite these
restrictions, MPU became, at the time, the number one show across
all networks on Thursday.
164
Chapter 6: Summary and recommendations
It has been demonstrated in this insider practice-led study that the
series MPU is a show made to a price, designed to deliver an
audience in the fragmented world of digital broadcast television. In
the first three series, MPU became the Number One show across all
networks, ostensibly because of its compelling drama, constructed
to a strong narrative and, most importantly, because we were able to
create a brand.
John Gregory, CEO of Freehand Television sees branding itself as
the key to success in the new age of television:
The reason we did the BBC deal is because we wanted
access to that deep content pool so that we can deploy it.
And why BBC wanted Lonely Planet, because they want the
brand. Of course they can make travel content and they do;
but the Lonely Planet brand already has a loyal following so
people who want travel and adventure come looking for the
LP brand to deliver content to that umbrella. People know
what they will get when they come to Lonely Planet. 201
In many respects, the MPU success is built – unashamedly - on
what I call McDonalds TV, the type of television where people know
what they will get each week. People came to Nine at 8:30 pm
Thursdays, because as John Gregory observes, we were able to
deliver the same content in the same format, week in, week out:
201 Gregory John, (2008) FTV CEO Interview
165
If you engage the audience you will draw them back. That’s
what broadcast TV can still deliver - that mass experience. If
we watch MPU on Thursday night we can talk about it on
Friday morning. 202
Nevertheless, with so many media opportunities across multiple
platforms, people have become more judicious, and we had to make
sure that a sizeable audience watched regularly. The first part of this
equation was to make a show that would be scheduled in the best
slot:
We live in a disposable society, the government sweeps
people under the carpet, a well made series needs good
scheduling to find it, people will look at content and dispose of
it just as quickly. The fact is that they sweep through the
content and find what they want…MPU brings the people to
Nine on Thursdays…and we overlook the craft of storytelling
at our peril. 203
As articulated here in this study, one key step had been to find a
production team that could create and weave drama throughout the
series, to spark the programmer first, and then hold our audience.
We did this by building a team that could tell a story; a team with a
variety of skill sets that could provide each program with the gravitas
of current affairs, the insight of observational documentary, the
colour of magazine, and the polish of a drama script. The plan was
to construct a program in such a way that peaks, troughs, drama
202 Ibid (2008) 203 Ibid (2008)
166
and search, were placed at exactly the right places to bring viewers
back after breaks:
Once people started watching the series, once you look at the
minute-by-minute ratings performance you see that every
episode draws people in as opposed to just holding. People
sit down from making their cup of tea and are drawn in; any
program that can do that is gold. 204
We were successful and the right scheduling took us to top ranking
across all networks. The wrong scheduling would have seen the
program flounder, just as the 4th series has in its rescheduled slot.
Along the way, we, the production team asked ourselves many
questions. These questions also have been threaded throughout this
study, in the reflections on the creative practice via action research,
and the interviews with key players which have been interwoven into
these chapters. The most discussed aspect revolved around
whether we were altering the nature of the program through the
layered grids of control, from development through to delivery. Of
course we were doing this, but such a process was necessary in
order to fit stories into a television format. Did the addition of third
party narrative and music, for example, transform record to
representation? What ends on the screen is always a
representation. In a program like MPU, we needed to be true to the
story, the factual chronology and the characters, and the intent of
the storyteller. How do we as filmmakers best capture the meaning 204 Ibid (2008)
167
of what we are recording? What do we need to do to best deliver the
message to the audience in a way that keeps them watching and
encourages them to interact with the program by providing leads
over the phone or visiting to the NMPU website? These are
questions that guided the action research for this case study,
intricately linked to the ongoing production questions.
As shown in the detailed analysis of particular programs, our grids of
control - the continued involvement by producers and the production
overview afforded to editors – our ‘layer cake’ approach, was
designed to ensure each program was given the best chance for
success. The process was designed to ensure that for as long as
the schedule allowed, another layer of input was always available, to
take the material to a new level editorially, stylistically and
mechanically. Without this, MPU would not have had the ‘edge’ to
sustain the onslaught in the 8:30 p.m. timeslot.
The various grids of control were also essential to keep the program
legally ‘healthy’ and factually correct. This was crucial because at
the rigorous police review of completed programs (another layer),
police vigilance over all legal aspects including our representation of
police, was uncompromising.
It is valid to argue here in this study that there has been a recent,
observable paradigm shift in the way viewers consume television
content. With more platforms to choose from, viewers have become
168
more discerning and program makers have had to produce fresh
formats to grab attention. Challenging programs such as those
made by John Pilger, for instance, are still being bought, but his type
of politically-driven work accounts for less and less of the overall
production slate. If this type of socially investigative work is made in
the future, it will most likely need to be dressed in more accessible
formats:
As documentary enters its second century, it finds itself less
constrained by the ideological and aesthetic dogmas which
have by turns driven and hindered its development. At their
best today’s documentarists pick and chose from the forms of
the past…and produce films that are more varied, imaginative
and challenging than anything we’ve seen before. At their
worst they churn out thousands of hours of indistinguishable
‘reality television. 205
I am not sure that the view of Macdonald and Cousins is completely
persuasive here. I would argue, from my critical reflection on my
creative practice within the making of MPU, that imaginative and
challenging programs will only come about, if the skill sets required
to make them are enshrined and taught effectively to a new breed of
filmmaker.
Furthermore, as television becomes even more adventurous in its
desire to hold an audience, it would seem that we will see more
hybrid formats like MPU on the screen, that is, more publicly minded
205 Macdonald, Kevin & Cousins, Mark (1996:311)
169
programs akin to public service announcements, delivering content
in an innovative fashion. However, this will only happen if production
companies and in particular networks, are willing to pay the
development fees, associated with devising new formats:
When Eddie McGuire walked in as CEO of Nine, one of his
first prognostications was to gather all of the programmers
and heads of departments together and say ‘henceforth what
we will do is all those producer thieves who have provided us
content with a 20% mark up’ like it was a piece of lumber ‘we
are not going to deal with them any more; this is Nine we are
a creative enterprise, we are going to make them in house.’
Someone had the guts to ask, ‘but Ed how are we going to
get hit shows?’…’What do you mean, we’ll make them’…’We
don’t own shows like Idle and Neighbours, if we want hit
shows we will have to buy them’…Ed: ’Why can’t we just
create hit shows?’…’We can but you won’t get them every
time’.206
Kilborn and Izod claim that in the coming years we will see many
new hybrid forms, and that the debate will be less about the
confusion that can arise in viewers’ minds when fact and fiction are
blurred, but more about ‘the need to create factually-based dramatic
entertainments where the aim is not so much to raise consciousness
as simply to discourage the viewer from switching to another
channel’.
207
After three series of MPU, and after this reflective study on the
206 Gregory, John (2008) Freehand Television CEO, Interview 207 Kilborn, Richard & Izod, John (1997:161)
170
production process, I would argue that the series should evolve to
include a live component. This view is not based on an assumption
that the current series is missing this element, but rather because
the drama of MPU is now well established, and as a consequence, I
consider that a new, more publicly minded element could sit well,
without detracting from the drama. Furthermore, because MPU is
billed as pro-active television that actually helps police solve cases,
it could be improved with a more immediate or pro-active element,
such as a live component.
I would suggest adding this segment to the back end of the series,
to update on running cases and to feature new urgent cases
breaking in the transmission week. I would record this update in a
different Crimestoppers’ State office each week. This would
immediately make the national Crimestoppers’ operation more
involved with MPU, and in the process nationalise the live element.
There are two suggested ways of achieving this:
(a) in the first instance, to keep a hole in the program and record
the update and live material on the day of broadcast just prior to
broadcast, and then edit it into the program very close to actual
transmission. The ‘downside’ with this approach is that it would
make the process rushed especially through network and police
legal reviews on the day of broadcast.
(b) the second option, is to go live-live and record a segment in the
Nine studios on the night of broadcast and then roll this in live,
171
before the program closer. This way each program would have the
latest live updates on selected cases for that week. The problematic
aspect of this would be the weekly studio cost associated with the
recording and the accessibility to the host and/ or Crimestoppers’
representatives on the exact night of broadcast.
Indeed, the cost of including the live component may be seen as
prohibitive. However, with a program as important as MPU that has
achieved recognition as a public service tool, as well as critical
acclaim for creativity, it may be just what is needed to keep the
current series relevant in the age of reality programming.
In conclusion, Professor Tom O’ Regan observes, that ‘As with
other countries which constitute a minor fragment of the language
speaking group within which they participate, Australia television’s
import profile centres imported programming. This centring impacts
upon the forms of local television, criticism of it and of television
generally’. 208
“Sir: I am and American visiting in Australia and, although I
am charmed by this country and enamoured of the people,
there is one facet of life here to which I take great offence. It
is in the direct theft in television of American concepts…It
seems from the time that I have spent in this country that
Australians are quite self conscious about a belief that they
And he cites this criticism published in the Sydney
Morning Herald, from the point of view of James Bridges, an
American visiting Australia, who said:
208 O’Regan, Tom (2004:86) ,
172
have little artistic culture of their own. The solution to this I’m
afraid, is not to borrow from another culture, but to develop
one’s own artistic ideas”.
James Bridges (18th March 1991) 209
O’Regan further observes:
That Bridges can find Australian programs both too
“American” by their imitation and not “American” by not
striking out on their own suggests an Australian disposing of
materials which is sufficiently different for recognition of
difference to be noted but sufficiently similar for such
difference not always to be recognised as something in its
own right and to be valued as such. 210
Conversely, I would argue that MPU is a valued, locally recognisable
Australian brand in an era of global television format domination,
developed in a country forced often through economic imperatives to
buy programs off shore. Designed to deliver riveting and dramatic
actuality that stops viewers from channel surfing, MPU also has
another more altruistic imperative, to be the most interesting one-
hour public service announcement on commercial television. This
forms the major contribution to knowledge from this project.
The program delivered a message to an audience that every 18
minutes some one is reported missing in Australia, amounting to
over 30,000 reports every year. That ‘message’ amounted to an
209 Ibid (2004:86) 210 Ibid (2004:87)
173
important communication, asking the audience to be involved and to
ring in with possible leads. During the first three series of MPU calls
from the public to Crimestoppers with new information on missing
people increased by up to 20% following the broadcast of each
program. This resulted in over 50 missing people being found on
the program. Even though some of those people would probably
have been located in a normal course of events, a number of those
cases were solved directly because of the series and the interactive
vigilance of the public. To be able to bring one family together would
have been enough.
I would contend this is the way today’s television formats can
develop, and I wait excitedly for the next format, to build on what I
have learnt, unpacked and presented here in this research.
174
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