ALFRED DUNHILL DEBATE
“THE SCRIPT IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SPREADSHEET”
Bourdon House . London . 14th April 2010
City vs. Creative - Lord David Puttnam v. Neil Collins. The London Home of Alfred Dunhill, played host to a battle of intelligence and wits that saw Fleet Street’s longest serving City editor go head to head with the Oscar winning filmmaker (along with a little help from an old friend)
The Alfred Dunhill Debate pits two leading minds against one another to inform and entertain with bold banter and discerning debate.
A SIMPLE GESTURE - By Colin Cameron (he shrugs)
Experts believe that 73% of communication is through gestures.
Presumably good eyesight is also important.
On paper or screen you might be suspicious of this percentage. At very least, you would ask how such a claim is calculated? Especially as the figure here is invented.
But with an advocate, shoulders pinched, palms visible, eyes wide open, brows raised? Maybe you would have bought it, presumably acknowledging this with a tilt of the head and a shrug.
Eyes wide open? More like wide shut. On April 14th at the London Home of Alfred Dunhill, Bourdon House, the acclaimed Oscar winning film producer Lord Puttnam and decorated financial journalist Neil Collins took to the podium for an Alfred Dunhill debate. In play -along with a £15,000 pot for charity - was the former’s belief that “the script is mightier than the spreadsheet”.
Both protagonists have long excelled with their use of written words. On this night, the messenger mattered equally.
Lord Puttnam brought his intuitive understanding of drama to the floor. Integral to his skills as an orator is an ability to generate a sense of theatre (appropriately enough using the occasional prop).
For someone who has debated regularly in the House of Lords, Puttnam relies more on notes than perhaps you might expect. That said, when conveying the essence of his belief in the script’s power beyond mere spreadsheets he grips his lectern and looks out - directly, intensely - at the audience. Paradoxically, he departs from his sketched-out plans. Nonetheless, crucially conveyed is the strong sense that everything is from the heart.
In answering questions, between the speakers’ opening remarks of eight minutes, then half this time again for rebuttals, Lord Puttnam leans even further forward still, and to the left of his microphone. With the fresh vigour in his voice, tools of amplification are redundant. Whatever words came out of Lord Puttnam’s mouth, relatively undistorted by any audio system, his eyes and his pose convey as much, if not more. Like all the great dramatists, he seeks to upstage Collins.
Collins’ approach is bespoke for generating empathy. Contesting well-made points, he first scratches his head – help me here, he is asking - and, professorially plays with his glasses, which conveys intelligence. Throughout Lord Puttnam’s addresses, Collins carefully studies the audience, much more than his opponent, who instead looks down at (of course) his script. As the eye contact accumulates, so accordingly, does support for the spreadsheet.
The late Richard Nixon might have learnt something from both speakers. In his American presidential debates of 1960 with John F. Kennedy he apparently prevailed on radio. On screen, looking awkward, sweaty and pale without make up, his sobriquet, Tricky Dicky, went coast to coast. At the same time, the dreamy notion of Camelot took hold of a nation.
In politics, it can only take a second – such as the one George Bush senior spent viewing his watch during debates with Bill Clinton in 1992. Specialists in Neuro Linguistic Programming – the art of selling a message through gestures – refer to Clinton as “The Natural”. Following Bush’s shifty glance, Clinton required just a moment to convince millions with every sinew that he at least didn’t have somewhere else to be. (Maybe it helped that he directed much of this in the studio towards a woman).
Nick Clegg showed himself more Clinton than Bush in Britain’s first ever prime ministerial debate. By addressing the studio audience using, whenever possible, first names he showcased a common touch. By also talking straight into the camera he showed an understanding that a television director now has the power to determine who forms the next government.
Back at Bourdon House, ultimately, the winner takes a bow. Literally, of course, and appropriately, too. Perhaps the most powerful animation of all.