The Documentary and Journalismtrate the situation’s causes and its consequences.What emerges, after editing, is neveractuality but an artfully constructedimpression of it, for all documentaries,even the most spontaneous, are constructs.Typically, authorship of a documentaryrests with a team, the filmultimately representing their sharedexperience and perspective. This processstarts as soon as they decide whatimages to collect for their film’s bank ofvisual and aural records, which areinfused with the values, beliefs, circumstancesand instruments currentat the time of recording and editing.Nearly every documentary relies onpeople who appear on camera as partof the story. From their perspective,the hope is that pertinent truths—asthey understand them—survive theprocess of filming or reporting. Butcan the journalist or documentarian betrusted to accurately represent thesetruths?When film is an intermediary, thisquestion can become more difficult toanswer. While a reporter conducts aninterview, a camera takes footage. Takingand using is at the heart of documentaryfilmmaking and so, unfortunately,is misrepresenting, though ithappens differently with film than itdoes in print. In reading an article,actions are described, voices are imagined.What gets lost are dense layers ofmeaning that the person conveyed vocally,facially and bodily. In the handsof skillful writers, these will be selectivelyimplied, but to exist they dependon a writer’s sensitivity to nuance. Thesame transaction, captured by the camera,gets it all the first time, and thefootage can be searched afterwards fordeeper layers of meaning.In making the BBC film “The Battleof Cable Street,” about the 1930’s Britishfascist leader Sir Oswald Mosley, Ilearned most from running and rerunningsections of the interview. His paternalhabit of widening his eyes whentelling you certain things became moreand more sinister as my editor and Irealized when and why he did it.A most extreme case of what adocumentary can reveal—and perhapsset in motion—was Alan and SusanRaymond’s series in the 1970’s, “AnAmerican Family.” While filming thedaily lives of the Louds, a family chosenas representative of American whitemiddle-class life, the son announcedthat he is gay, the husband proved acompulsive womanizer, the wife filedfor divorce, and the family went intomeltdown.When the series went on the air,critics and audiences alike were convincedthat manipulative filming andthe family’s desire to make a high dramaticimpression had colluded to createthese changes. And who knows thatthey were entirely wrong? All observationchanges what is being observed,but being filmed 14 hours a day forseven months probably changes it morethan most. When the Louds signed on,they were unaware of the crucible theywere entering, although the Raymondsinsist they duly warned them.The public outcry surely affectedhow family members saw themselveson the screen. The Louds did not seethe filmmakers’ perspective emerginguntil the programs were broadcast and,as a result, began to see each other in adifferent light. Shocked to discoverwhat had been created from their input,some of the family objected bitterly,saying they felt like victims ofalchemy and treachery. Lives werewrecked, careers broken, and for yearsthe cause of the intimate TV documentaryseemed irretrievable.Like journalism, documentary filmmakingrelies on distilling a story fromwhat is remembered or recorded andinvolves reduction, simplification, rearrangementand re-creation—all hazardousto the truth. Who is to say thatmy notes and memories of an eventcoincide with those of anyone else whowas present? Journalism is researchand memory, assisted by notes andresting on subjectivity. Diligent journalistscheck facts and consult numeroussources to gain the increased perspectiveof multiple versions, but thewriter’s point of view can only be minimized,never eliminated.It is less easy to quarrel with a filmedrecord, but responsible documentariansfeel accountable for fairness totheir subjects and being fair aboutthem—seldom the same thing, as theLouds found out. By their nature, documentaryfilms often transform what ismessy and contradictory in life intotidy and effective narrative. For example,if a film crew follows a personwho is trying to buy a house, and asecond film crew concurrently followsthe sellers, there are now two strandsof story to be intercut. Placing the salientparts of each story against oneanother—the buyer deliberating whilethe seller decides on the price—createsa juxtaposition for which no arbiterexists. A single decision during editingcan make the seller appear venaland the buyers naive, or vice versa.Films contain dozens of such juxtapositions,and similar ones are certainlypossible in print, as well.The impulse to record and transmittruth always faces compromise becauseit rests on the quirks of memory, onethics, on the ability to draw a widerperspective, and on the enduring needto tell a good story even when representingthe real world. Knowing this,during the past two decades some documentarianshave tried to show not onlythe result of their work but how theycreated it, and so have examined andshared the deceptions that reality, andfilms about reality, practice upon theirmakers and audiences alike.Such transparency of the process bywhich documentaries are made is encouragingsince, as with journalism,the more the public understands howa story is constructed, the more likelythey are to ascribe fairness to it. Andthis is, after all, more than objectivity—is, after all, what journalists and documentaryfilmmakers should strive toproduce. ■Michael Rabiger was a foundingmember of the BBC Oral Historyseries “Yesterday’s Witness” and isthe author of “Directing: Film Techniques& Aesthetics,” “Directing theDocumentary,” and “DevelopingStory Ideas.” During the past fouryears, he has chaired the film/videodepartment at Columbia College inChicago.mrabiger@aol.com64 <strong>Nieman</strong> Reports / Fall 2001
Journalist’s TradeCutbacks. Lay-offs. Buyouts. Early retirement packages. Offered under different names andcircumstances, the bottom-line objectives are similar: trim the staff to keep the enterprise afloat.Few journalistic homes have been spared cuts in staff during this economic slump, thoughnewspapers, especially those belonging to the Knight Ridder chain, are experiencing deeper andmore rancorous downsizings. We ask, in this issue, whether such cutbacks mark the correct pathto long-term survival and what effect they have on the content and quality of the journalism beingproduced.Thrity Umrigar, who writes for the Akron Beacon Journal, a Knight Ridder newspaper, takesus inside the newsroom during this year’s second round of staff cutbacks. She writes of its funerealatmosphere: “And, indeed, something had died—that naive and idealistic belief that the folks whoran newspaper companies realized that theirs was more than a business—it was a sacred charge.”Jim Naughton, president of The Poynter Institute who held numerous editor positions at ThePhiladelphia Inquirer (a Knight Ridder paper), tallies up the losses from cutbacks at his old paperand shares concern about how they jeopardize that paper’s high-quality journalism. ChuckLaszewski, a projects reporter at the St. Paul Pioneer Press (a Knight Ridder paper), reports thatthe corporate decisions to reduce the newshole size, cut sections, and remove bodies “to keepprofit margins astonishingly high, won’t leave much of a newspaper for our readers to use.”Deborah Howell, Washington bureau chief for Newhouse Newspapers, describes Knight Ridderbudget seminars she attended as an editor at the St. Paul paper. Though she knows more abouthow journalism is financed, “it’s not the reason I got into it. It’s not the reason I stay in it,” shewrites. Working now for a privately held company, she reports that “I am lucky. I haven’t had to doanything this year that I think is wrong or long-range stupid….” William W. Sutton, Jr., a deputymanaging editor of The News & Observer in Raleigh, North Carolina, urges corporate medialeaders to keep the value of staff diversity in mind as cuts are considered.Media analyst John Morton examines how newspaper owners react to the tug of Wall Streetpressures and the consequences that decisions made today might have a few years down the road.McClatchy Company president and CEO Gary Pruitt explains why pleasing shareholders at hiscompany has meant neither newshole nor staff cutbacks. And Jay Smith, president of CoxNewspapers, describes how a privately held company reacts to economic hard times with freshapproaches to news coverage. Michigan State journalism professor Stephen Lacy links changes insocietal trends—public ownership, decline of newspaper competition, societal diversification, andgrowth of electronic media—to the financial decisions that confront newspaper executives today.Gilbert Cranberg, co-author of “Taking Stock: Journalism and the Publicly Traded NewspaperCompany,” suggests workable ways that issues of journalistic quality can be become central to thedecisions made by corporate directors. Joseph Bower, professor of business administration at<strong>Harvard</strong> Business School, describes the special strengths of newspapers and writes that decisionmakingby corporate leaders should never imperil newsgathering that lies at the heart of itsenterprise’s unique mission within its community. “Credible news presented to attract readers isthe golden goose,” he writes. “For that reason it should be at the core of any sensible economicdecision-making about the newspaper business.” ■<strong>Nieman</strong> Reports / Fall 2001 65