4 out of 4 people found the following comment useful :- The only genuinely heavyweight British chat show., 14 July 2001
Author:
saville from Derbyshire, England
Terry Wogan once said that people weren't interested in watching
interviewees get a hard time on television. Well they were during the
1960s, as this chat show proved. Interviewer John Freeman wasn't exactly
the most gentle host - his technique was to probe and interrogate his
subject. In one notorious show, he caused Gilbert Harding to cry. But
unlike the modern trend for shows which encourage confrontation in a very
banal and even lewd way, Freeman's angle was a measured and intellectual
one
with the objective of producing truth and insight into character, rather
than the trite entertainment of more recent times.
Michael Parkinson is often hailed as the best interviewer in British chat
show history. I can't help but feel that this show has been sadly
forgotten
about, and that John Freeman's technique was destined to be adopted by
future political interviewers, while chat shows in general became
increasingly banal, flummery celebrity floss.
2 out of 2 people found the following comment useful :- Face to Face, 7 April 2008
Author:
hburnett-1 from United Kingdom
I was the creator, and Producer, of the BBC programme Face to Face.
It is a legend that we made Gilbert Harding cry. He gulped, when asked
about his mother, but he was sweating from nervousness and the heat of
the studio lighting. He did not cry.
Nor are the comments about Lord Reith correct. Freeman found him an
almost pathetic man, constantly asking for reassurance with his
answers. His daughter's recent book concerning her father explains it
all.
John Freeman's greatest disappointment, he said at the time, was the
interview with Otto Klemperer. This, in my opinion was not Freeman's
fault. Klemperer was old and unwell when he came to the BBC studios for
the recording.
The best, in my opinion, was with Professor Jung, who had dreamt of
himself addressing a large audience in a square. He believed that my
letter of invitation to take part in Face to Face was a precognition
relating to that dream.
Hugh Burnett
1 out of 1 people found the following comment useful :- One on one interviews - 50 years on and still the best, 14 June 2007
Author:
trimmerb1234 from London
Nearly 50 years on, the series of one on one TV interviews conducted by
John Freeman for the BBC TV series "Face to Face" remains the standard
by which all such interviews are to be judged. They remain for all time
incomparable portraits of those prominent British and often leading
world figures - politicians, artists in all fields, a King; who agreed
to subject themselves to an often merciless interrogation. What
distinguished the series was the intelligence and remorselessness of
the questions. The interviews have been described as a "dissection
without anaesthetic". Each programme opened with an impressionistic
portrait of the subject by famed artist Felix Topolski then mixed
through to the largest possible close up of the subject's face, harshly
lit against a black background, where the slightest facial tic or
emerging tear was clearly visible. And it was here that the camera
remained throughout most of the interview -purposely to catch the
facial tics and emergent tears. Painful memories were probed
mercilessly. Gilbert Harding - middle aged bachelor and short-tempered
opinionated newspaper columnist and TV personality, was reduced to
tears when asked if he recalled the death of his mother. Celebrated
British author Evelyn Waugh, who had had a brush with mental illness,
was asked if he ever feared that it might return. This appalling
question Waugh, tough former wartime SAS officer, dealt with calmly as
if prepared in advance. The one question for which social-climber Waugh
seemed entirely unprepared was an apparently innocuous one - "the size
of the establishment" at his childhood home (ie did they have
servants?). Behind the question was the knowledge that Waugh's
background was not aristocratic or even upper middle class as he later
affected. Freeman had homed in, as he intended, on the subject's most
painfully vulnerable spot.
How could a journalist, however good, ask such cogent sometimes
devastating questions? The answer emerged some time later. Freeman, the
most intelligent interviewer ever to appear on British television had
had a collaborator - a psychiatrist. To Freemans innate forensic skills
were added clinical insights. It was difficult at times to imagine why
some subjects consented to appear - why they should put themselves
through the pain. Some may have wished to face some event which they
had not had the courage to face by themselves - to admit to or atone
for something said or done - or not said or not done. All interviewees
as well as the viewer were conscious of the sense of occasion, that a
lifetime's achievement was to be probed, evaluated and - extraordinary
for such a transient medium - recorded in stone.
Freeman, whose career included an ambassadorship to the United States
and editorship of the British highbrow journal, The New Statesman, was
an exotic and unusually gifted individual even by the BBC's standards
of those days. Only in one interview - and Freeman has a quite opposite
account of this - was he bested by his interviewee. This was with a
figure of Old Testament reputation, appearance - and possibly
self-regard: Lord Reith - founder in 1922 of the BBC itself.
Freeman's technique had been in part to pursue subjects' vanities and
self-deceptions and to expose them. Reith, gritty son of a Scottish
Presbyterian Minister, evidently knew exactly what to expect. Instead
of withholding and covering up - and thus revealing weakness - Reith's
candour at times so exceeded Freeman's expectation as to cause the line
of questioning to abruptly end. Instead of an admission of an error of
judgement being slowly prised out, Reith immediately admitted to having
made a major mistake. Asked if he thought he might have made some
modest contribution, Reith instead firmly laid claim - with some
justification - to incomparably grander achievements. Following each
wrong-footing of his interviewer Reith smiled and asked courteously,
with perhaps false diffidence, if his answer had been satisfactory. It
was, as Reith surely intended it to be, a masterful public
demonstration that he had fully got the measure of his interviewer.
Reith's high seriousness of purpose and apparently biblical morality
formed the BBC and a recognisable residue still remains - including the
adjective Reithian defining that set of ideals which should govern a
public broadcaster. That it is only a residue - and not the heavy pall
it would be today - is due to the moral and entertainment revolution
that took place in post-1960s Britain in which sexual liberation and an
end to any notion of moral improvement were pursued with intolerant
zeal. Those zealots in the vanguard of this revolution were not content
simply to disregard Reith, he became for them a figure hated with the
exaggerated passion that a teenager might have for an overly moralistic
parent. In an interview with Freeman long after Reith's death Freeman
spoke surprisingly of Reith's "pathetic" wish to be liked. Given the
nature of their earlier unequal encounter it seemed that here it was
the interviewer's own vanity and weaknesses that was being sharply
exposed.
Freeman is still alive (2006) and can be seen, a tall and impressive
figure, doing his shopping at his local supermarket. But while good
humoured and civil, he declines to talk about Face to Face. He has, he
says, retired from all that.
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4 out of 4 people found the following comment useful :-
The only genuinely heavyweight British chat show., 14 July 2001
Author: saville from Derbyshire, England
Terry Wogan once said that people weren't interested in watching interviewees get a hard time on television. Well they were during the 1960s, as this chat show proved. Interviewer John Freeman wasn't exactly the most gentle host - his technique was to probe and interrogate his subject. In one notorious show, he caused Gilbert Harding to cry. But unlike the modern trend for shows which encourage confrontation in a very banal and even lewd way, Freeman's angle was a measured and intellectual one with the objective of producing truth and insight into character, rather than the trite entertainment of more recent times.
Michael Parkinson is often hailed as the best interviewer in British chat show history. I can't help but feel that this show has been sadly forgotten about, and that John Freeman's technique was destined to be adopted by future political interviewers, while chat shows in general became increasingly banal, flummery celebrity floss.
2 out of 2 people found the following comment useful :-
Face to Face, 7 April 2008
Author: hburnett-1 from United Kingdom
I was the creator, and Producer, of the BBC programme Face to Face.
It is a legend that we made Gilbert Harding cry. He gulped, when asked about his mother, but he was sweating from nervousness and the heat of the studio lighting. He did not cry.
Nor are the comments about Lord Reith correct. Freeman found him an almost pathetic man, constantly asking for reassurance with his answers. His daughter's recent book concerning her father explains it all.
John Freeman's greatest disappointment, he said at the time, was the interview with Otto Klemperer. This, in my opinion was not Freeman's fault. Klemperer was old and unwell when he came to the BBC studios for the recording.
The best, in my opinion, was with Professor Jung, who had dreamt of himself addressing a large audience in a square. He believed that my letter of invitation to take part in Face to Face was a precognition relating to that dream.
Hugh Burnett
1 out of 1 people found the following comment useful :-

One on one interviews - 50 years on and still the best, 14 June 2007
Author: trimmerb1234 from London
Nearly 50 years on, the series of one on one TV interviews conducted by John Freeman for the BBC TV series "Face to Face" remains the standard by which all such interviews are to be judged. They remain for all time incomparable portraits of those prominent British and often leading world figures - politicians, artists in all fields, a King; who agreed to subject themselves to an often merciless interrogation. What distinguished the series was the intelligence and remorselessness of the questions. The interviews have been described as a "dissection without anaesthetic". Each programme opened with an impressionistic portrait of the subject by famed artist Felix Topolski then mixed through to the largest possible close up of the subject's face, harshly lit against a black background, where the slightest facial tic or emerging tear was clearly visible. And it was here that the camera remained throughout most of the interview -purposely to catch the facial tics and emergent tears. Painful memories were probed mercilessly. Gilbert Harding - middle aged bachelor and short-tempered opinionated newspaper columnist and TV personality, was reduced to tears when asked if he recalled the death of his mother. Celebrated British author Evelyn Waugh, who had had a brush with mental illness, was asked if he ever feared that it might return. This appalling question Waugh, tough former wartime SAS officer, dealt with calmly as if prepared in advance. The one question for which social-climber Waugh seemed entirely unprepared was an apparently innocuous one - "the size of the establishment" at his childhood home (ie did they have servants?). Behind the question was the knowledge that Waugh's background was not aristocratic or even upper middle class as he later affected. Freeman had homed in, as he intended, on the subject's most painfully vulnerable spot.
How could a journalist, however good, ask such cogent sometimes devastating questions? The answer emerged some time later. Freeman, the most intelligent interviewer ever to appear on British television had had a collaborator - a psychiatrist. To Freemans innate forensic skills were added clinical insights. It was difficult at times to imagine why some subjects consented to appear - why they should put themselves through the pain. Some may have wished to face some event which they had not had the courage to face by themselves - to admit to or atone for something said or done - or not said or not done. All interviewees as well as the viewer were conscious of the sense of occasion, that a lifetime's achievement was to be probed, evaluated and - extraordinary for such a transient medium - recorded in stone.
Freeman, whose career included an ambassadorship to the United States and editorship of the British highbrow journal, The New Statesman, was an exotic and unusually gifted individual even by the BBC's standards of those days. Only in one interview - and Freeman has a quite opposite account of this - was he bested by his interviewee. This was with a figure of Old Testament reputation, appearance - and possibly self-regard: Lord Reith - founder in 1922 of the BBC itself.
Freeman's technique had been in part to pursue subjects' vanities and self-deceptions and to expose them. Reith, gritty son of a Scottish Presbyterian Minister, evidently knew exactly what to expect. Instead of withholding and covering up - and thus revealing weakness - Reith's candour at times so exceeded Freeman's expectation as to cause the line of questioning to abruptly end. Instead of an admission of an error of judgement being slowly prised out, Reith immediately admitted to having made a major mistake. Asked if he thought he might have made some modest contribution, Reith instead firmly laid claim - with some justification - to incomparably grander achievements. Following each wrong-footing of his interviewer Reith smiled and asked courteously, with perhaps false diffidence, if his answer had been satisfactory. It was, as Reith surely intended it to be, a masterful public demonstration that he had fully got the measure of his interviewer.
Reith's high seriousness of purpose and apparently biblical morality formed the BBC and a recognisable residue still remains - including the adjective Reithian defining that set of ideals which should govern a public broadcaster. That it is only a residue - and not the heavy pall it would be today - is due to the moral and entertainment revolution that took place in post-1960s Britain in which sexual liberation and an end to any notion of moral improvement were pursued with intolerant zeal. Those zealots in the vanguard of this revolution were not content simply to disregard Reith, he became for them a figure hated with the exaggerated passion that a teenager might have for an overly moralistic parent. In an interview with Freeman long after Reith's death Freeman spoke surprisingly of Reith's "pathetic" wish to be liked. Given the nature of their earlier unequal encounter it seemed that here it was the interviewer's own vanity and weaknesses that was being sharply exposed.
Freeman is still alive (2006) and can be seen, a tall and impressive figure, doing his shopping at his local supermarket. But while good humoured and civil, he declines to talk about Face to Face. He has, he says, retired from all that.
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