What documentary is perhaps most known for is Building Block #1: “Vérité.” From the Latin for Veritas, meaning “truth,” vérité are moments or scenes the camera captures unfolding in real time that are part of the story itself. Think of a protest — there is no pausing the protestors to ask that they retreat a block and dodge that canister of tear gas again. You either got that canister “in the can” or you didn’t.

The second major building block is The Interview. There are many themes and variations of The Interview, but most simply, it’s someone speaking at or toward the camera, answering prompts or questions that help the story unfold in a more expository way. Interviews often serve as the main spine of the story, though for vérité-driven docs, they’re also used to “back-tell” or explain things that happened in the immediate or less immediate aftermath of a scene.

And then…

There is B-Roll.

B-Roll is secondary footage intercut with your main footage — most often interviews — to add visual context and hide edits. At its worst, it’s wallpaper: eliminating the jump cuts in that 60-minute interview you had to get down to seven minutes. But at its best, it can add another dimension to your project entirely. It can establish a scene (a tree-lined suburban street), set a mood (a series of dark prison interiors), or visualize something a subject is talking about — perhaps we’ve arranged to film them in their pottery studio.

B-Roll is notoriously the least glamorous building block, but it does so much — creatively and technically — to hold a story together. And it can be incredibly personal.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been filming in homes or offices when, after the interview, I ask to film some B-Roll. Diplomas on walls, family photos on the shelves, the subject’s gardening routine, silly magnets on the fridge, the proverbial “Live Laugh Love” sign in the kitchen — you get the point. Having recently relocated to Maine for a temporary respite from the noisy hellscape that is New York City (which I can say because it’s been my home for the past 15 years), I brought a few items with me to make my cabin feel like home. Pictures of family and friends, some of my musical instruments, my cat Thomas, obviously. It’s been nice to be surrounded by less — but that less means so much more to me than the generic home goods decor dotting the shelves in my Brooklyn apartment.

This is what I mean when I say B-Roll is personal. The things we surround ourselves with, the hobbies we keep — these are exactly what an imaginary documentary director would ask to film. And they say a lot about us. B-Roll as visual evidence of the texture of our lives. It’s essentially our identities made manifest.

Which makes B-Roll, I’d argue, maybe the most important building block of all. Because we can’t change what happens to us (that’s the vérité). And we’re often put on the spot when asked to explain ourselves (that’s the interview). But what we choose to do, and what we surround ourselves with? That part is largely on us.

And so now I have a new wish for myself. I hope for myself a life wherein the B-Roll is mine, even if not uniquely. Not just the pictures on the fridge, but the ways I invest my time and energy, what I play and how, the people I choose to spend time with. But never, ever, a “Live Laugh Love” sign in my kitchen.

Who knew that a basic building block of documentary filmmaking could be so illuminating — not just of our characters’ lives, but of our own?

“Why” seems like a great question. On a first date, in a new friendship, and in my world, in a documentary interview, where you’re really trying to get at the center of a thing. What better follow-up when someone says “I’m most at peace in my car,” or “I’ve always been deeply committed to my faith,” or “For the last week I’ve had trouble sleeping.”

We like “Why.” We’re often proud of ourselves for catching the opening, for wanting to go deeper.

BUT DON’T DO IT. Or, more precisely and a little less harshly, try delaying it just a liiiiitle longer. Why, you may ask? (And here, I will allow it).

Because when you ask Why too soon, you’re putting an end to curiosity. At the very moment you ask, they’ll try to answer, like a good interviewee will. But all they’ll have to offer in that moment is their current, self-generated understanding of the question. Nothing new. Nothing they hadn’t already made sense of before you walked in. It may look something like this:

Them: “I’m most at peace in my car.”
You: “Why is that, do you think?”
Them: “Because it’s quiet. I live with four people. It’s my only ‘me-space.’”

Fine. Not a bad answer. Will totally work in the edit. But it misses something important: interviews aren’t just spaces where someone asks questions and someone answers. They can be spaces where people actually learn something about themselves.

So instead of rushing toward Why, here’s what I do. I try a few more Who / What / Where / When / How questions first. This is something Dr. Angus Fletcher explores in his book Primal Intelligence. “We all want to get to Why, but the fastest way to miss it is to ask it,” a Special Operations source tells him, when he dives into what makes for truly exceptional information-gathering. I’ve found this to be true in the interview room, and honestly, anywhere you’re genuinely trying to know someone. Here are some alts:

How often do you find yourself alone in the car? When do you feel most in need of that time? What’s your favorite car memory? What do you think about while you’re in there? Do you drive around or just park and sit? What changes for you after a good car-sesh?

Don’t launch into a full blown interrogation, just a few questions that you’re genuinely curious to know more about. These are the questions they likely haven’t been asked before. As you ask, and more importantly, as you listen, new stuff emerges. They may stumble. They may need a moment. That’s fine. Not every moment on camera is for the audience.

Maybe they end up telling you about a solo road trip where they got the idea that changed everything for their business. Maybe they say they once sat in the driveway for twenty minutes after getting back from a hard day, just to have a few more minutes alone with their thoughts before going inside. Maybe you start to sense, over their various answers, that it’s about alone time, yes, but also about being able to listen to themselves differently.

That’s when you can offer something back. “Do you think your car is one of the places where you can actually hear yourself?”

And then, finally (maybe)...

You: “So why do you think your car has been such a meaningful place for you?”
Them: “I think it’s the one place where I can check in with myself. What I’m doing. Where I’m going. I guess it’s a safe space to make sure I’m living in alignment with myself.”

Not a much longer answer. But truer. Or at least richer than where you started.

You can call this mirroring, or offering, or reframing. Whatever you call it, something was generated in that exchange that wasn’t there before you arrived. At its best, that’s what this work does: it helps someone learn something about themselves, or feel seen more deeply. And in an interview context, it’s a gift to get something genuinely new from someone who’s maybe been asked about themselves many times before.

I talk about this more in the video. Go watch it if you want the longer version. But the short one is this: Delay the Why. See what else comes first. You may find yourself someplace new with someone.