New News Is Old News
Every weekday morning, SBS broadcasts news services from different countries in their native language. My grasp of foreign languages only extends to words for fancy desserts, such as ‘soufflé’, but all the news services are depressingly familiar and highlight the triviality of the Australian bulletins.
The German news, full of guttural clicks and toothy consonants, has a down-home feel, with phrases like ‘Chelsea Flower Show’ and ‘Manchester United’ jumping the language barrier. The Spanish news is the slickest, with reporters and newsreaders in shimmering, expensive suits surrounded by pretend Internet graphics. The Russian news has less sheen, and features Vladimir Putin regularly checking out goats or touring the industrial landscape. The Indonesian news has a cheaper look, but a commendable world view. My favourite is the Dubai bulletin, which has reporters, sheiks and politicians in flowing white robes and headdresses, and is dominated by economic news and significant people sitting on luxurious red velvet gilded chairs.
The openings of all the news bulletins feature sleek, sliding graphics; busy reporters; and a comparable important-sounding theme, the synthesiser getting cheesier the more ‘third world’ the country. All of the bulletins follow the same template: international news, followed by local news, sport and then the weather. The more affluent the country, the greater the emphasis is on celebrity fluff. The newsreaders with thousand-yard-stare teleprompter eyes touch a finger to their earpieces during technical difficulties and adjust their radio mics to appear busy during the theme music. European newsreaders with wavy coiffures appear in slick, shiny suits and trendy glasses, and exude warmth in front of angular, modern, busy, tech-savvy backgrounds. The male and female team of newsreaders is common, smiling to each other as they share a joke and pretend sexual tension, and all of the reporters end with the throwaway downward inflection of their name. The language of weather is universal; clouds with broken lines depicting rain, and a sun peeping from behind a cloud giving hope to all, unless you’re in a drought-affected country like Australia.
World leaders in outrageously comfortable chairs chat before barrages of cameras. Overweight politicians, their ties straining to keep their top button closed, don’t point these days (apparently, it’s rude), but gesture with Bill Clinton thumbs pressed into non-threatening fists. On-the-street interviews feature bewildered individuals attacked by myriad phallic microphones protruding from the bottom of the screen. Important men and women give conferences at extended tables in front of advertising boards, staring down the reporters with solemn eyes and words weighted by their bulging bank accounts. Disasters are represented by footage of bodies on stretchers, and shaky, hand-held, poor-quality video of distressed victims. Science news invariably will show a petri dish, lab rats, and a gloved scientist in a white lab coat. The most common stories are about sport (soccer), politics, and graphics of oil barrels, with a graph and an ascending line representing increasing cost.
The universal language of the news bulletin lets everyone know that when the camera pulls away and the newsreaders remove their lapel microphones, there is no more news today.
This piece originally appeared in ‘The Big Issue’.
Matt Quartermaine is a Melbourne-based writer and comedian. With Matt Parkinson, Tim Smith and Andrew Goodone, he produces ‘The Chat’, a weekly podcast in which four grown men in comfortable chairs spill their guts. Click here to download it for free at iTunes.
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