Caroline Van Den Brul MBE - Thirty Years At The BBC
In my final year at university I’d been visiting accountancy firms and similar organisations trying to decide where my future lay but I wasn’t convinced any of them was right. I finally came up with a question which set me on my career path: “If I wasn’t paid, what would I choose to do?” My answer made me channel my efforts into becoming a TV researcher. I wrote to every executive producer in the Radio Times to ask for a job. One of them invited me in for a “chat” and, during that visit, I overheard a conversation in the BBC Club. Someone at the Open University was looking for a science researcher. A letter, ‘phone call and interview later, I became that researcher but only on a 2 week contract. Getting a foothold in television then, as now, required having a special skill. My producer needed someone with a scientific background to oversee the production of graphics and models while he was on holiday. My chemistry background was that skill. Two further requirements were also essential: dogged determination and luck! Making a career in television requires more than these, of course. I knew nothing about programme making so had an inordinately steep learning curve and was expected to learn fast. The Open University output was made by the BBC at Alexandra Palace. There studio crews, editors, designers, vision mixers and producers all sat together in the canteen and talked shop. I picked up enough jargon and the code in the stories to get some clues about how the BBC worked, its culture, how people got promoted. In other words all the important unwritten rules which are necessary for survival and success in an organisation. I managed to prolong my 2 week contract by a variety of tactics: anticipating what might be needed and making sure that I could offer it (I studied bio-chemistry in the evenings to improve my chances of getting hired for the next programme); and seeking advice from a wide range of people. I asked for contacts and follow-up meetings. It was 11 months before my first period of unemployment but, by then, I had some experience of working on studio programmes. I was also beginning to absorb what people referred to as the “grammar of television” i.e. how, in theory, to direct simple action. It would be several years before I would get the chance to try it for myself. My break into mainstream television came, ironically, when I failed to get a job at a BBC board. I was rung up after my rejection by the editor of Horizon and offered a 3 month contract. Working as a Horizon researcher in the 1970s meant working as an apprentice to experienced producers who all seemed really old. Most were, in fact, only in their early 40s. Each had developed a personal way of working and they all approached story telling differently. Some liked to find the key “characters” and weave a story around them, others wanted “texture” – a succession of memorable sequences linked by commentary. Interviewing was an art only a few mastered. One producer was skilled at making people entirely comfortable, taking them back to emotional occasions. He could make them cry on cue. I learned at the feet of these producers. In the pre-PC days there were no mobiles, laptops, instant graphics or even fax machines. Making programmes therefore demanded painstaking project management and I became very good at it. Everything was shot on rolls of 16mm film. Each roll was 10 minutes long and cost £100 (the equivalent of £620+ at today’s prices). No producer was going to allow a novice to direct straightaway but some gave me two or three film rolls and let me direct a specific sequence. I had to prepare detailed story boards, interview questions with answers and anticipated emotional reactions. Then, presenting the producer with the cutting order, I showed that I had thought through how the sequence would work. It was a fantastic discipline which became a foundation for more than just directing. It helped me structure stories and consider the relevance and importance of each and every piece of content, from action to graphics. Over the next ten years I worked on wonderfully varied and interesting live and recorded output: Tomorrow’s World, The Great Egg Race, QED, Bodymatters. During this time I was honing my story telling skills and building a vast reservoir of contacts and experience. In 1986 I was suddenly catapulted into an acting producer role, when I was asked to produce daily, live, half hour reality programmes from two hospitals in Portsmouth. It was new territory, not just for me, but for the entire science department. The BBC had attempted such ventures before, but only with animals: badgers and foxes. Hospital watch with patients, their families and health service staff was in a different league; it required all of the project management, editorial and other skills I had accumulated over the years as well as quick thinking, stamina and a certain amount of courage too: no-one could be sure how the audience and press (Daily Mail) would interpret it: as public service or a voyeuristic intrusion into the lives of ill people. It was one of the most exhilarating weeks of my career as we came to realise we were involved in a ‘groundbreaking hit’. We were nominated for a BAFTA, I became a producer, and Hospital Watch spawned further series, spin offs like Animal Hospital and an industry of live reality shows. I broadened my producer experience with 50’ minute films, international co-productions and a drama. Three years later I was appointed editor (and commissioner) of the science documentary strand, Antenna. Being an executive producer was quite a shock. I had reckoned on continuing to exploit my personal creativity, editorial judgement, managerial skills and ability to sell ideas. What took me longer to come to terms with was that a leadership role required me to do something more: to spot and nurture the latent talent in others. It is this development role which is the most important part of the executive producer’s job. It gave me my greatest rewards. It was not easy maintaining the trust of the commissioners and managing their high expectations while, at the same time, setting stretching challenges to untested promising individuals. I loved constructing high-octane teams, having ambitious goals, building ideas, all pulling together on output we thought the audience would care about. When we produced outstanding programmes, with exceptional personal performances, I felt an extraordinary sense of fulfilment. It didn’t always happen but, when it did, boy did it feel good!
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