You knew I was a TV crew when you let me in

When the TV crew rang the bell and came into my apartment, I pointed to the row of slippers I'd laid out and said in Japanese, "Please come in, help yourself to slippers if you'd like." TV crew? Yep. Stay in Japan long enough and you're bound to be looking into a TV camera sooner or later. I'd gotten into this when they contacted the Quakebook people about being part of a 3/11 anniversary program. I thought originally that it was about media, social networking and how foreigners' news sources differed from what Japanese people were reading. At a preliminary camera-free interview at my place, the producer seemed to be after a different story: he wanted to know how many times a day I'd called home and what my mother's "words that echoed in my heart" were as I went to the airport and why I like Japan more than America. By that time, I felt, sinkingly, that it was too late to back out.

More intensity

When the entire crew of six came over, the first thing the director did was tell one of his underlings to take all the Japanese magazines and hide them (his words) under the English ones. As they were setting up lights and plugging in boxes, the interpreter suggested to the director that I do at least part of the interview in Japanese, since she'd heard me speak at the first interview. "Absolutely not," he said. Speaking only English in the interview didn't bother me, but his adamance did. It seemed like he had already decided who I was, and speaking and reading Japanese wasn't part of that. I'm almost surprised he didn't ask us to put shoes on to clomp around the apartment. He did ask me to do other silly things that edged closer and closer to flat-out re-enacting the day. I grudgingly changed sweaters to give the impression that we were filming on different days, though he didn't say to what end. He asked to see the camera I'd used to take pictures off the balcony, then to see the balcony, then if I could just hold the camera up like I was taking pictures. And actually, could you just aim toward the ground and actually take a few? It seemed way too late by that time to talk about the differences between interviewing and acting and which one we were there for. (This was a few weeks ago. I've seen a few interviews with actual survivors on other Japanese TV stations, and they all feature footage of the person standing where they had been standing and holding up their cameras. Just because it's standard doesn't make it unsilly.)

When, as the crew leaving, they filmed the inevitable ding-dong-we-'re-entering-the-home-of-our-unwitting-subject shot, I was instructed to wait ten seconds after the doorbell, then open the door and say, "Nice to meet you." To the guy who hadn't spoken a single word of English in the three times we'd met. I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt that they'll use what they got in a journalistically responsible way, but I'm not holding my breath. I'm kind of hoping now, if they do use any of it, that they go all the way. Make the footage grainy black and white, or maybe red-tinted, and make it look like it's shaking. That might be the best way of all to get people to think about how the news worked and didn't work in the aftermath of the disaster.
UPDATE: This is the video. Don't blink.