
The Moment You Tell Someone How to Feel, the Story Stops Being Real
The Moment You Tell Someone How to Feel, the Story Stops Being Real
Years ago, while making a fundraising film for an NGO in Lebanon, we filmed a 7 year old girl.
She was bright, funny and completely herself. Unfortunately, the story needed her to look sad. Not necessarily because she felt sad at that particular moment, but because sadness fitted the narrative. It made the story clearer, more affecting and, presumably, more likely to encourage donations.
Someone asked her to look sad. She tried, and then she completely cracked up. She knew she was being asked to perform an emotion she wasn’t feeling.
The moment we decide what somebody ought to feel, we stop documenting them and begin directing them. The message may become clearer, but the person becomes less believable, something human disappears.
Authenticity does not mean pointing a camera at somebody and hoping for the best. It requires careful research, trust and good interviewing. But it also requires leaving room for the answer you did not expect.
People are remarkably good at recognising when an emotion has been manufactured. If organisations want audiences to trust their stories, they must be willing to trust the people telling them.
The truth may be less convenient, but it is nearly always more memorable.
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