After 30 years, this TV show has never been more relevant
By Debi Enker
There’s a key distinction between a good show and great one. A good one can generate excitement when it’s released, creating a buzz that might linger for a while. But a great one, a genuine classic, sparks that initial enthusiasm and stands the test of time. It rewards repeated viewing and inspires enduring admiration.
Frontline, which made its debut on May 9, 1994, is a classic that turns up regularly at or near the top of lists of the best Australian TV shows ever made for good reason. The qualities that initially distinguished it continue to shine decades after its arrival. Time hasn’t blunted its brilliance and recent events have only made it seem more uncomfortably astute.
Frontline, the current affairs satire, with (from left) Jane Kennedy, Steve Bisley, Tiriel Mora and Rob Sitch.Credit: ABC
Created and written by Rob Sitch, Jane Kennedy, Santo Cilauro and Tom Gleisner, the razor-sharp satire about the workings of a tabloid TV current affairs program was a bracing blast of fresh air when it premiered on the ABC. Finely crafted, with a pitch-perfect sense of comedy construction and an intimate understanding of the industry it was eviscerating, it introduced characters who immediately resonated: peacock anchorman Mike Moore (Sitch), ruthlessly ambitious reporter Brooke Vandenberg (Kennedy), scrappy newshound Martin di Stasio (Tiriel Mora), and their cynical, battle-hardened executive producer, Brian (Bruno Lawrence). Supporting them was an array of artfully sketched characters, including weatherman Geoffrey Salter (Cilauro), a loyal confidant of Mike’s and the lone member of his cheer squad. The executive producer role was later played by Steve Bisley as Graeme “Prowsey” Prowse.
Watching Frontline today (all three 13-episode seasons are available on Stan), it’s clear that while some things change, many remain the same. Back then, Nine’s A Current Affair – which is depicted as the fictional show’s main rival – was hosted by Ray Martin. Other competitors were Seven’s Real Life, presented by Stan Grant, and the ABC’s 7.30 Report, fronted by Kerry O’Brien. At the Media Watch desk, Stuart Littlemore raises a prosecutorial eyebrow as he accuses Mike and co. of fanning “xenophobic hysteria” with their coverage of Asian gang violence and claims of cities gripped by fear.
Powered by a perpetual sense of urgency and a continuous burble of whispered gossip, the show’s office has piles of newspapers and phone books; people smoke; stories are recorded and edited on video cassettes; and the ratings figures – those critical numbers that affect everything – arrive via fax. The fashion is for high-waisted pants, and hairstyles are big and boofy.
Perhaps surprisingly, while production techniques might have become more sophisticated over 30 years, the satire hasn’t sagged with age. In a testament to its perspicacity, the mockumentary style, directed by Sitch and featuring Cilauro’s camerawork, has worn well: it still looks fresh, fast and busy.
Bruce Lehrmann during the 2023 Spotlight interview.Credit: Seven
And, as it zeroes in on the priorities and practices of a sometimes-dubious business, the series’ concerns are as relevant today as they were in the ’90s. “We wrote a list of main issues that we wanted to cover,” Kennedy explained while the first season was in production, “Chequebook journalism, looks versus credibility, the bullying, foot-in-the-door kind of stuff, they were our main plots. And then we just built sub-plots around them.”
The media environment depicted in the series is one in which ratings rule and whatever’s required to attain a winning edge and woo a larger audience is acceptable, even welcomed. An exclusive interview with a highly sought figure who’s making headlines is gold. And if it results in an award nomination, that’s icing on the cake.
The dominant impression of urgent activity stems in part from the rush to be first with breaking news and to outmanoeuvre rival programs. That haste leads to mistakes, to bad decisions and a failure to check information thoroughly. Which is demonstrated early on, when the show announces the death of an Australian aid worker missing in Sudan only to learn of her discovery, alive and well, weeks later. In a supreme irony, they subsequently find themselves in a bidding war to land an exclusive interview. And the punchline to that frenzied activity is a gem.
However, it’s also clear that mistakes in this pressure-cooker world don’t lead to remorse or apologies: instead a publicist is summoned to put the best possible spin on the unfortunate events.
That such a culture still exists has been persuasively demonstrated in recent months. One revealing example relates to the events memorably described by Federal Court Justice Michael Lee as an “omnishambles” in his judgment after the defamation trial initiated by Bruce Lehrmann. Lehrmann claimed that he was identifiable as the colleague accused of rape by Brittany Higgins in a 2021 interview with Lisa Wilkinson on The Project. Lehrmann denies the allegation.
Former Seven network Spotlight producer Taylor Auerbach outside the Federal Court last month.Credit: Dion Georgopoulos
During the defamation trial, in a sensational eleventh hour appearance that might have seemed too far-fetched for an episode of Frontline, Taylor Auerbach, a former senior producer on Seven’s Spotlight program, gave evidence to the lengths the program went to woo Lehrmann for its 2023 interview, drawing back the curtain on what was regarded as acceptable in the pursuit of a scoop seen as a surefire ratings magnet: lavish wining and dining, interstate golf trips and even alleged expenses claims for cocaine and sex workers.
Lehrmann lost the case, but Lee found that The Project did not do as much as it should have to establish the truth of Higgins’ allegations of a cover-up. Wilkinson’s interview won a Logie, while the Spotlight story had been a finalist in the Walkley Awards for Scoop of the Year until details emerged in a separate court that Seven had paid Lehrmann’s rent for a year.
More recently came the horror of the attacks at the Bondi Junction shopping mall, where the rush to air with images and information resulted in the incorrect identification of the perpetrator by some news outlets, as well as additional grief for the families of victims already dealing with a tragedy.
The human consequences of such practices were devastatingly detailed in an eloquent opinion piece, written by Elizabeth Young and published in The Sydney Morning Herald, revealing the shocking circumstances in which she learnt that her daughter had been a victim of the attack. Young described members of her family seeing “vision of Jade lying on the ground at the shopping centre, receiving CPR. The vision, shared on social media and picked up – and used by – multiple news media programs shared my daughter’s final moments with millions”. Describing the images as “an insult to human dignity”, Young added: “Our family’s very private grief was being commodified and turned into casual content.”
Frontline depicts an environment in which the brutal, all-consuming quest for ratings and the pressure to be first with the news renders such considerations irrelevant to most of the people making decisions. An often-lone voice of objection comes from producer Emma (Alison Whyte), who points out the ethical or moral implications of proposed actions and serves as a conscience for the series’ concerns. But she’s invariably overruled.
When Frontline originally went to air, Kennedy said, “We never set out to be a topical show: we just wanted to be relevant.” Turns out they managed to be both, then and now.
The complete series of Frontline is on Stan.
A handful of homegrown comedy classics
Mother and Son (1984-94, iview, Stan)
Geoffrey Atherden’s indelible original stars Ruth Cracknell as the wonderfully wily and strategically scattered Maggie Beare, and Garry McDonald as her perpetually sabotaged son, Arthur. Two talented actors in fine form in a domestic comedy loaded with wit, wisdom, inventiveness and heart.
Garry McDonald and Ruth Cracknell in Mother and Son.Credit: ABC
The Games (1998-2000, available to buy on Apple)
Mockumentary skewering the ditherings of a committee planning for the 2000 Sydney Olympics. National treasure John Clarke is a deadpan delight as the head of administration and logistics, with Gina Riley as the communications queen and Bryan Dawe as the finance guy. Corruption and ineptitude win every time.
Kath & Kim (2002-07, Netflix)
Created by Jane Turner and Gina Riley, the foxy ladies, a mother and daughter from Fountain Lakes, tickled the nation with their spot-on spoof of middle-class values, with Magda Szubanski’s hapless, accident-prone netballer, Sharon Strzelecki, adding brilliant bonus laughs.
Upper Middle Bogan (2013-2016, Netflix, Prime, iview)
Robyn Butler and Wayne Hope’s affectionate, beautifully observed culture clash has two families – western suburbs drag-racing enthusiasts the Wheelers and eastern suburbs latte-lovers the Brights – finding themselves united when the details emerge of an adoption years earlier.
Utopia (2014-23, iview, Netflix, Stan)
From the makers of Frontline, a mockumentary account of the workings – or failure to work – of a quasi-government body tasked with infrastructure planning and development. A satire about public service, bureaucracy, politics and publicity spin so accurate it’s often admiringly described as a documentary.