People often ask me what makes for a good interview. Good access and openness are important, but what I really love is when the interviewee forgets you’re there or, at least, forgets, you’re an interviewer. Obviously that hardly ever happens. But in this weekend’s Saturday magazine, I think it does with Wayne and Coleen Rooney.
Our interview feels as if they’re talking to each other rather than to me, and in a natural, unmediated way. Part of the piece is simply dialogue where they rib each other about short tempers (Wayne’s), lack of humour (Coleen’s), poor timing (Coleen’s) and passivity (Wayne’s) before admitting they haven’t had a row in ages.
To me, it felt extraordinarily intimate, in a way it couldn’t have been if only Wayne or Coleen had been there. He speaks about how he drank too much when he played football because he was stressed and didn’t know how to talk about it; she says that she would never resort to booze and keeps things to herself until she has to off-load.
As an interviewer, you hope to create a vivid picture of your subject, and with their partner there, it feels like you’re given a whole new palette to paint with.
Recently, I’ve done a number of pieces where family played a crucial part. When I spoke to 1980s TV comedy king Russ Abbot, his wife of 60 years, Trish, was present. As well as telling me the funniest thing he’d ever done was accidentally chop his nose off at a fete opening instead of cutting the ribbon, it’s through Trish I saw how he really felt about falling out of fashion. When we talked about his retirement and living in Portugal, Russ said: “I’ve seen something on YouTube saying ‘The tragedy of Russ Abbot’ and ‘He’s run away to Portugal’.” As he laughed it off, Trish said: “We just watched it once. I said: ‘Don’t watch it, Russell’.”
Some of the interviews I’ve found most moving have been those done with family members in the room. Glen Campbell had advanced dementia and spent most of the time I had with him doing Donald Duck impressions. With the help of his wife, Kim, we had a chat I will never forget.
Perhaps the most haunting “two-for-one” interview was a few weeks ago with Mary Austin, the former partner of Freddie Mercury. They split up after he told her he was bisexual. (“No, Freddie, I think you’re gay,” she replied). When he died 40 years ago, he left her his house and 50% of his fortune.
Mary told me that she had not mentioned Freddie to her two sons until they were in their late 20s, and before that they had no idea their home had belonged to him. She told me to ask Jamie, her youngest son, about it.
I did, and he said that wasn’t quite true; Jamie and his brother had always known, but they sensed it was too painful for their mother to talk about. In front of me, the truth of Mary’s life was being unveiled. A truth that even she didn’t know about.
Towards the end of the interview with the Rooneys, Wayne made a joke about the last argument they had. Coleen ignored his quip to say something more important – that when they started making the TV show, they’d met me to chat about how he was feeling low and lost, and now he’s in a better place. It felt truthful in a way interviews often don’t.
People’s lives are so nuanced, and it is up to interviewers to try to capture that. In all these cases, I couldn’t have done so without having loved ones there to tell their side of the story.
Illustration: Tom Gauld/The Guardian
