April 21st 2012
On Tuesday night Mary Beard meandered onto our screens, peddling
the eccentric Cambridge professor stereotype as she pedalled round Rome in the
opening of her engaging Meet the Romans series.
It struck me that this was the latest in a long line of outstanding factual
series from the BBC, and so I decided to take a closer look at the different
ways that they have hit upon a magic combination of fact and finesse in their
documentary presenters.
My family and I were instantly entertained by Mary Beard.
Not only was she a Trevi fountain of knowledge (I do apologise, it’s not often
you can make a Rome pun), but she presented it with the unbridled joy of a
slightly bonkers lady that the film crew had stumbled across and proceeded to
follow round Rome, recording her excited and informed ramblings. At one point
she told us that as she read tombstone inscriptions she could hear the voices
of the dead Romans. Something tells me she didn’t just mean that as a figure of
speech. Roaming round museums manhandling objects, chuckling gleefully at
ancient wordplay, acting out a gladiator battle with miniature figurines a
propos of nothing; Mary provided a glorious way into the fascinating world of
Ancient Rome.
Another factual presenter who trades in a similar manner of
enthusiasm is physicist Brian Cox, who rocketed to fame with his love of outer
space. Whilst it goes without saying that documentary presenters are going to
be passionate about their chosen subject, a special few find a way to infuse
that passion in the audience, and Brian’s animated gesticulating and eager grin
offered many a window into the wonders of the universe. Of course, in trying to
attribute Brian Cox’s popularity merely to his infectious enthusiasm and knack for
explaining confusing concepts, I am skirting round the elephant in the room.
Brian is also famous for his ‘boyband good looks’, emphasised by many a
lingering camera shot. It seems many viewers will become fascinated with any
subject if the presenter has nice hair.
I apologise if my praise of Mr Cox sounds slightly
disparaging. I don’t mean to discredit him: he’s very intelligent, a talented
presenter and, for many, a heartthrob. But I cannot count myself among his
legions of fans, because my heart belongs to Louis Theroux. He could make a
documentary about soil (he may already have, such is the wide range of subjects
he has covered), and I would still watch. His slight awkwardness, his innocent
interviewing technique that can coerce all sorts of characters into suddenly
blurting out something incriminating, and yes, his lovely face, all combine for
me into the perfect documentary presenter. His polite probing into sensitive
subjects leads people to reveal more to him than they would to others, and his
open-mindedness and genuine interest in the people he meets has led to
fascinating documentaries giving an insight into everything from the roughest
of American jails to the home of Sir Jimmy Saville. A respectful tolerance for
the weird and an ability to appear non-judgemental makes for superb factual
television.
When I admitted my obsession with Louis to my sister several
years ago she too praised his “doddery yet intelligent manner”, and I felt as
if I had stumbled upon an underground religion. I now proudly number amongst
his 172 thousand fans on Facebook, a veritable army of those with the good
taste to recognise his humour, his consistently thought-provoking documentaries,
and yes, his good looks (I won’t hear a word said against them).
Louis, Brian and Mary take on wildly different subject
matters in their programmes, but all of them find a way to make their passions
accessible and captivating for the audience. So it seems that the secret to
being a great documentary presenter is having bundles of knowledge, passion and
a lovely, lovely face. And if you haven’t got the latter, a bike and a bonkers
demeanour will do just fine.
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