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Documentary and feature programmes

These terms are often used as if they were interchangeable and there is some confusion as to their precise meaning. But here are exciting and creative areas of radio and because of the huge range they cover, it is important that the listener knows exactly what is being offered. The basic distinction is to do with the initial selection and treatment of the source material. A documentary programme is wholly fact, based on documentary evidence – written records, attributable sources, contemporary interviews and the like. Its purpose is essentially to inform, to present a story or situation with a total regard for honest, balanced reporting. The feature programme, on the other hand, need not be wholly true in the factual sense, it might include folk song, poetry or fictional drama to help illustrate its theme. The feature is a very free form, where the emphasis is often on portraying rather more indefinable human qualities, atmosphere or mood.

The distinctions are not always clear cut and a contribution to the confusion of terms is the existence of hybrids – the feature documentary, the semi-documentary, the drama documentary, faction and so on.

It is often both necessary and desirable to produce programmes that are not simply factual, but are ‘based on fact’. There will certainly be times when, through lack of sufficient documentary evidence, a scene in a true story will have to be invented – no actual transcript exists of the conversations that took place during Columbus’s voyage to the New World. Yet through his diaries and other contemporary records, enough is known to piece together an acceptable account which is valid in terms of reportage, often in dramatic form. While some compromise between what is established fact and what is reasonable surmise is understandable in dealing with the long perspective of history, it is important that there is no blurring of the edges in portraying contemporary issues. Fact and fiction are dangerous in combination and their boundaries must be clear to the listener. A programme dealing with a murder trial, for example, must keep to the record; to add fictional scenes is to confuse, perhaps to mislead. Nevertheless, it is a perfectly admissible programme idea to interweave serious fact, even a court case, with contrasting fictional material, let us say songs and nursery rhymes; but it must then be called a feature not a documentary. Ultimately what is important is not the subject or its treatment, but that we all understand what is meant by the terms used. It is essential that the listener knows the purpose of the broadcaster’s programme – essentially the difference between what is true and what is not. If the producer sets out to provide a balanced, rounded, truthful account of something or someone – that is a documentary. If the intention is not to feel so bound to the whole truth but to give greater rein to the imagination, even though much of the source material is real – that is a feature.

The documentary

Very often subjects for programmes present themselves as ideas that suddenly become obvious. They are frequently to do with broad contemporary issues such as race relations, urban development, pollution and the environment, or medical research – attempting to examine how society copes with change. Alternatively, a programme might explore in detail a single aspect of one of these subjects. Other types of documentary deal with a single person, activity or event – the life of Abraham Lincoln, the discovery of radium, the building of the Concorde aeroplane, the causes of child obesity, or the work of a particular factory, theatre group or school.

Essentially these are all to do with people, and while statistical and historical fact is important, the crucial element is the human one – to underline motivation and help the listener understand the prevailing social climate, why certain decisions were made, and what makes people ‘tick’.

The main advantage of the documentary approach over that of the straightforward talk is that the subject is made more interesting and colourful. It’s brought alive by involving more people, more voices and a greater range of treatment. It should entertain and tell a story while it informs and provokes further thought and concern.

Planning

Following on the initial idea is the question of how long the programme should be. It may be that the brief is to produce something for a 30-minute or one-hour slot, in which case the problem is one of selection, of finding the right amount of material. Given a subject that is too large for the time available, a producer has the choice either of dealing with the whole area fairly superficially or reducing the topic range and taking a particular aspect in greater depth. It is, for example, the difference between a 20-minute programme for schools on the life of Chopin, and the same duration or more devoted to the events leading up to Chopin’s writing of the Revolutionary Study, directed to a serious music audience. For a large subject area, it’s always possible, of course, to make a series of related programmes.

Where no overall duration is specified, simply an intent to cover a given subject, the discipline is to contain the material within a stated aim without letting it become diffuse, spreading into other areas. For this reason it is an excellent practice for the producer to write a programme brief in answer to the questions ‘What am I trying to achieve?’, ‘What do I want to leave with the listener?’ Later on, when deciding whether or not a particular item should be included, a decision is easier in the light of the producer’s own statement of intent. This is not to say that programmes cannot change their shape as the production proceeds, but a positive aim helps to prevent this happening without the producer’s conscious knowledge and consent.

At this stage the producer is probably working alone, gradually coming to terms with the subject, exploring it at first-hand. Many producers find it useful to make a ‘mind map’ – a visual diagram of how different aspects of the issue are related. Even more possibilities may be opened up by brainstorming the subject with colleagues. This initial research, and in particular listing those topics within the main subject which must be included, leads to decisions on technique – how each topic is to be dealt with. From this emerges the running order in embryo. Very often the title comes much later – perhaps from a significant remark made within the programme. There is no formally recognised way of organising this programme planning; each producer has a preferred method. By committing thoughts to paper and seeing their relationship one to another – where the emphasis should be and what is redundant – the producer is more likely to finish up with a tightly constructed, balanced programme.

Let’s take an example. Here are the first planning notes for a local radio programme. This radio station serves a coastal region where the trawler fleet has been seriously affected by the loss of fishing rights in international waters:

By setting out the various factors that have to be included in the programme, it is possible to assess more easily the weight and duration that should be given to each, and whether there are enough ideas to sustain the listener’s interest. It probably becomes apparent that there is a lot to get in. It would be possible to do a programme that concentrated solely on the matter of international fishing rights, but in this case the brief was broader and the temptation to dwell on the latest or most contentious issue, such as safety at sea, must be resisted – that’s another programme.

A final point on planning. A producer’s statement of intent should remain fixed, but how that aim is met may change. Initial plans to reach the goals in a certain way may be altered if, in the course of production, an unforeseen but crucial line of enquiry opens up. The programme material itself will influence decisions on content.

Research

Having written the basic planning notes, the producer must make the programme within the allocated resources of time, money, people, etc. The key decision is whether to call on a specialist writer or to write one’s own script. Depending on this will rest the matter of further research – perhaps it is possible to obtain the services of a research assistant or reference library. The producer who is working to a well-defined brief knows what is wanted and in asking the right questions will save both time and money. The principle with documentary work is always, as far as possible, to go back to sources, the people involved, eye witnesses, the original documents, and so on.

Structure

The main structural decision is whether or not to use a narrator. A linking, explanatory narrative is obviously useful in driving the programme forward in a logical, informative way. This can provide most of the statistical fact and the context of the views expressed, and also the names of various speakers. A narrator can help a programme cover a lot of ground in a short space of time, but this is part of the danger; it may give the overall impression of being too efficient, too ‘clipped’ or ‘cold’. The narrator should link and not interrupt, and there will almost certainly not be any need to use a narrative voice between every contribution. There are styles of documentary programme that make no use at all of links but each item flows naturally from one to the next, pointing forward in an intelligible juxtaposition. This is not easy to do but can often be more atmospheric.

Collecting the material

Much of the material will be gathered in the form of location interviews, if possible while at sea during a fishing trip. If it has been decided that there will be no narrator, it is important to ensure that the interviewees introduce themselves – ‘speaking as a trawler owner . . . ’ or ‘I’ve been in this business now for 30 years . . . ’. They may also have to be asked to bring out certain statistical information. This may be deleted in the editing but it is wise to have it in the source material if there is no obvious way of adding it in a linking script.

It must be decided whether the interviewer’s voice is to remain as part of the interviews. It may be feasible for all the interviewing to be done by one person, who is also possibly the producer, and for the programme to be presented in the form of a personal investigative report. Pursuing this line further, it is possible for the producer to hire a well-known celebrity to make a programme as a personal statement – still a documentary, but seen from a particular viewpoint that is known and understood. Where the same interviewer is used throughout, he or she becomes the narrator and no other linking voice is needed. Where a straightforward narrator is used, the interviewer’s questions are removed and the replies made to serve as statements, the linking script being careful to preserve them in their original context. What can sound untidy and confusing is where in addition to a narrator, the occasional interviewer’s voice appears to put a particular question. A programme should be consistent to its own structure. But form and style are infinitely variable and it is important to explore new ways of making programmes – clarity is the key.

Impression and truth

The purpose of using actuality sounds is to help create the appropriate atmosphere. More than this, for those listeners who are familiar with the subject, recognition of authentic backgrounds and specific noises increases the programme’s authority. It may be possible to add atmosphere by using recorded sound effects. These should be used with great care since a sound only has to be identified as ‘not the genuine article’ for the programme’s whole credibility to suffer. The professional broadcaster knows that many simulated sounds or specially recorded effects create a more accurate impression than the real thing. The producer concerned not simply with truth but with credibility may use non-authentic sounds only if they give an authentic impression.

The same principle applies to the rather more difficult question of fabrication. To what extent may the producer create a ‘happening’ for the purpose of the programme? Of course it may be necessary to ‘stage manage’ some of the action. If you want the sound of ship’s sirens, the buzzing of a swarm of angry bees, or children in a classroom reciting poetry, these things may have to be made to happen while the recorder is running. Insofar as these sounds are typical of the actual sounds, they are real. But to fabricate the noise of an actual event, for example a violent demonstration with stones thrown, glass breaking, perhaps even shots being fired; this could too easily mislead the listener unless it is clearly referred to as a simulation. Following the work of broadcasters in war zones it is probably true that unless there are clear indications to the contrary, the listener has a right to expect that everything heard in a documentary programme is genuine material to be taken at face value. It is not the documentary producer’s job to deceive, or to confuse, for the sake of effect.

Even the reconstruction of a conversation that actually happened, using the same individuals, can give a false impression of the original event. Like the ‘rehearsed interview’, it simply does not feel right. Similarly it is possible to alter a completely real conversation by switching on a recorder – a house builder giving a quotation for a prospective purchaser is unlikely to be totally natural with a ‘live’ microphone present!

Faced with the possibility that ‘reality’ simply won’t happen, either in an original recording or by a later reconstruction, the documentary producer may be tempted to obtain material by secretive methods.

An example would be to use a concealed recorder to get a conversation with an ‘underground’ dealer for a programme on drug smuggling. This is a difficult area that brings the broadcaster into conflict with the quite reasonable right of every individual to know when they are making a statement for broadcasting. Certainly the BBC is opposed in general to the use of surreptitious production techniques as being an undue invasion of personal liberty (see the ACMA Code on p. 22). It is a question that producers, staff or freelances, should not take upon themselves. If such a method is used, it is as a result of a decision taken at a very senior level.

Of course, if the subject is historical, it is an understood convention that scenes are reconstructed and actors used. Practice in other countries differs, but in Britain a documentary on even a recent criminal trial must of necessity employ actors to reconstruct the court proceedings from the transcripts, since the event itself cannot be recorded. No explanation is necessary other than a qualification of the authenticity of the dialogue and action. What is crucial is that the listener’s understanding of what is broadcast is not influenced by an undisclosed motive on the part of the broadcaster.

Music

Current practice makes little use of music in documentary programmes, perhaps through a concern that it can too easily generate an atmosphere, which should more properly be created by real-life voices and situations. However, producers will quickly recognise those subjects that lend themselves to special treatment. Not simply programmes that deal with musicians, orchestras or pop groups, but where specific music can enhance the accuracy of the impression – as background to youth club material, or to accompany reminiscence of the depressed 1930s. A line from a popular song will sometimes provide a suitably perceptive comment, and appropriate music can certainly assist the creation of the correct historical perspective. Again, as with drama, one of the many specialist MCPS ‘mood music’ libraries can help. However, be warned that many complaints come from listeners about music in these circumstances being ‘intrusive’, ‘too loud’, or ‘distracting’.

Compilation

Having planned, researched, and structured the programme, written the basic script and collected material, the producer must assemble it so as to meet the original brief within the time allotted. First, a good opening. Two suggestions that could apply to the earlier example of the programme on the fishing industry are illustrated by page one of the following script:

Example one

Example two

The start of the programme can gain attention by a strong piece of sound actuality, or by a controversial or personal statement carefully selected from material that is to be heard within the programme. It opens ‘cold’ without music or formal introduction, preceded only by a time check and station identification. An opening narration can outline a situation in broad factual terms, or it can ask questions to which the listener will want the answers. The object is to create interest, even suspense, and involve the listener in the programme as soon as possible.

The remainder of the material might consist of interviews, narrator’s links, actuality, vox pop, discussion and music. Additional voices may be used to read official documents, newspaper cuttings or personal letters. It is better if possible to arrive at a fairly homogeneous use of a particular technique, not to have all the interviews together, and to break up a long voice piece or statement for use in separate parts. The most easily understood progression is often the chronological one, but it might be desirable to stop at a particular point in order to counter-balance one view with its opposite. And during all this time the final script is being written around the material as it comes in – cutting a wordy interview to make the point more economically in the narration, leaving just enough unsaid to give the actuality material the maximum impact, dropping an idea altogether in favour of a better one, always keeping one eye on the original brief.

Programme sequence

There are few rules when it comes to deciding the programme sequence. What matters is that the end result makes sense – not simply to the producer, who is thoroughly immersed in the subject and knows every nuance of what was left out as well as what was included, but to the listener who is hearing it for the first time. The most consistent fault with documentaries is not with their content but in their structure. Examples of such problems are insufficient ‘signposting’, the re-use of a voice heard sometime earlier without repeating the identification, or a change in the convention regarding the narrator or interviewer. For the producer who is close to the material it is easy to overlook a simple matter which may present a severe obstacle to the listener. The programme maker must always be able to stand back and take an objectively detached view of the work as its shape emerges.

The ending

To end, there are various alternatives:

Contributors

The producer has a responsibility to those asked to take part. First, tell them as much as possible of what the programme is about. Provide them with the overall context in which their contribution is to be used. Second, tell them, prior to transmission, if their contribution has had to be severely edited, or omitted altogether. Third, whenever possible let contributors know in advance the day and time of transmission. These are simple courtesies and the reason for them is obvious enough. Whether they receive a fee or not, contributors to documentary programmes generally take the process extremely seriously, often researching additional material to make sure their facts are right. They frequently put their professional or personal reputation at risk in expressing a view or making a prediction. The producer must keep faith with them in keeping them up to date as to how they will appear in the final result.

What the producer cannot do is to make the programme conditional upon their satisfaction with the end product. Contributors cannot be allowed access to the edited material in order to approve it before transmission. Not only would there seldom be a programme because contributors would not agree, but it would be a denial of proper editorial responsibility. The programme goes out under the producer’s name and that of the broadcasting organisation. That, the listener understands, is where praise and blame attaches and editorial responsibility is not to be passed off or avoided through undisclosed pressures or agreements with anybody else.

Programmes in real time

A great use of the medium is to unravel the telling of a true story across the same time-span as the original. It might be a hospital emergency, a court case, a tropical storm or a rescue operation. An excellent example is Len Deighton’s Bomber, a Second World War documentary broadcast by BBC Radio 4. It was on the anniversary of a bomber raid over Germany, but it was done in real time, in chunks over an afternoon and evening. It took us from the initial lunchtime briefing, the take-off and some of the flight to the raid itself – by which time everything had gone horribly wrong. It was interwoven with the personal details and voices of the people in the air and on the ground, on both sides, who had done this for real 50 years before. It was immensely complex, adding drama, effects and actuality. You had to stay up until midnight to hear the planes – some of them – returning home. Anguish, death, hope, despair, it was innovative as well as authentic – and tremendously compelling radio.

A BBC Radio 4 documentary in the Farming Today series on the theme of ‘North Sea Trawlermen’ appears on the website: www.focalpress.com/cw/mcleish.

The feature

Whereas the documentary must distinguish carefully between fact and fiction and have a structure that separates fact from opinion, the feature programme does not have the same formal constraints. Here all possible radio forms meet, poetry, music, voices, sounds – the weird and the wonderful. They combine in an attempt to inform, to move, to entertain or to inspire the listener. The ingredients may be interview or vox pop, drama or discussion, and the sum total can be fact or fantasy. A former Head of BBC Features Department, Laurence Gilliam, described the feature programme as:

a combination of the authenticity of the talk with the dramatic force of a play, but unlike the play, whose business is to create dramatic illusion for its own sake, the business of the feature is to convince the listener of the truth of what it is saying, even though it is saying it in dramatic form.

It is in this very free and highly creative style that some of the most memorable and innovative radio has been made. On the subject of North Sea fishing, Charles Parker for the BBC produced a ‘Radio Ballad’ – ‘Singing the Fishing’ – with folk singers, instrumental music, sound effects and actuality voices, recounting the dangers and satisfactions of being a North Sea fisherman. The overall effect is not reasoned argument in documentary form, but a collage of colourful songs, human experience and endeavour, which after many years is still memorable.

The possible subject material for the feature ranges more widely than the documentary since it embraces even the abstract: a programme on the development of language, a celebration of St Valentine’s day, the characters of Dickens, a voyage among the stars. Even when all the source material is authentic and factually correct, the strength of the feature lies more in its impact on the imagination than in its intellectual truth. Intercut interviews with people who served in the Colonial Service in India mixed with the appropriate sounds can paint a vivid picture of life as it was under the British Raj – not the whole truth, not a carefully rounded and balanced documentary report, it is too wide and complicated a matter to do that in so short a time, but a version of the truth, an impression. The same is true of a programme dealing with the music of the slave trade, the countryside in summer, the life of Byron, or the romance of the early days of aviation. The feature deals not so much with issues but with events and emotions, and at its centre is the ancient art of telling a story.

The production techniques and sequence are the same as for a documentary – statement of intent, planning, research, script, collection of material, assembly, final editing. In a documentary the emphasis is on the collection of the factual material. Here, the work centres on the creative writing of the script – a strong storyline, clear visual images, the unfolding of a sequence of events with the skill of the dramatist, the handling of known facts but still with a feeling of suspense. Some of the best programmes have come from the producer/writer who can hear the end result begin to come together even while doing the research. Only through immersion in the subject comes the qualification to present it to the rest of us.

Once again, because of the multiplicity of treatment possible and the indistinct definitions we use to describe them, an explanatory subtitle is often desirable.

‘A personal account of . . . ’
‘An examination of . . . ’
‘The story of . . . ’
‘Some aspects of . . . ’
‘A composition for radio on . . . ’

Thus, the purpose of the finished work is less likely to be misconstrued. For the final word on the documentary and feature area of programming, Laurence Gilliam again:

It can take the enquiring mind, the alert ear, the selective eye, and the broadcasting microphone into every corner of the contemporary world, or into the deepest recess of experience. Its task, and its destiny is to mirror the true inwardness of its subject, to explore the boundaries of radio and television, and to perfect techniques for the use of the creative artist in broadcasting.