The Queen behind the Scenes: Producer and Director April Jones
An interview with an award-winning unscripted television badass.
This week, we looked at the catharsis that women on reality TV bring us: how the joy of watching is not just about the fancy lifestyles but the freedom of emotional expression. Today, we’re going behind the scenes of how these shows are made with an exciting interview with my friend April Jones, an Emmy-winning and James Beard Award-nominated director and producer of unscripted television.
April has spent more than a decade overseeing Bobby Flay’s flagship culinary competition show, Beat Bobby Flay, as well as the TV show, Dinner at Tiffani’s, hosted by beloved cultural icon Tiffani Thiessen. She has worked with legends such as Kevin Hart, Ice Cube, and yours truly. (Yes, I am as important as Kevin Hart and Ice Cube.) April and I worked together on a pilot—featuring Amy Schumer, Ilana Glazer, and Janelle James—that was meant to launch on the now-defunct streaming platform Quibi. While the pilot never became a fully-realized show, April was an indispensable director and consulting producer throughout the entire process. Currently, April is the co-host of the popular culinary podcast The Culinary Call Sheet from Heritage Radio Network, about how culinary media and reality television are made.
April is the very definition of a self-made woman who has worked at every level behind the camera in the unscripted format, starting her career as a production assistant and working her way all the way up to showrunner, producer, and director. She knows the ins and outs of reality television more than anyone, which means she knows exactly why we’re all so damn drawn to it.
In this interview, April and I dive into everything from how to capture the most compelling moments of real life on camera, why women are so important—yet often so undervalued in front of and behind the camera—in non-fiction programming, and so much more. Enjoy!
Amber Tamblyn: Working in unscripted television is one of the most grueling, intense jobs in TV, and you've worked with some titans in the space, including directing and producing many episodes of Beat Bobby Flay. What initially drew you to working in the unscripted space, and what keeps you loving the medium to this day, despite how hard it can be?
April Jones: I'll be honest . . . working in unscripted TV—TV altogether—was purely accidental. Growing up in Southern California near the heart of the industry in Los Angeles, I always had a stereotype of the television producer job in my head, and it always seemed like a heartless, soulless, exploitative job that I would surely never involve myself with. However, in a random twist of fate, a friend pushed for me to get a job as an executive assistant for a producer who had overall deals in the reality TV space, and through that, I cut my teeth in casting, production, brand integrations, and so much more. I learned to build a show up from scratch, through a million tiny details, embracing the continuous shifts along the way that are necessary to make a reality TV show happen. You would be surprised to know how much detail and care goes into making reality television feel so real. I loved how my experience in this medium took me out into the world to relate to others, to problem solve, and create. This work fed my love of figuring out how to get done what folks say or think cannot be done. When you’ve made a show where the viewer completely forgets that cameras are there—a whole crew is there—during something they are watching, and instead it feels like the viewer is right there in that person’s living room, experiencing what they are experiencing in real time . . . it really is some kind of particular magic.
The way I've always thought about unscripted programming is that it's a lot like a first date: you curate locations, set the tone with care to lighting, ambiance, even music—how you’d want to be seen. You make sure that you have the story points you want to hit and you guide your evening within those boundaries, knowing when to diverge from your original plan for a better one and lean into the good stories all with a goal in mind: the kiss. No doubt, you hope that you'll get a second date as well.
Non-fiction storytelling in television requires you to be vulnerable, clever, and full of the capacity to pivot, wrangle, and guide mass amounts of strangers toward a similar goal. I get dropped all over the planet, into these tiny windows of time, to tell stories about culture, history, food, family, where I have to find the common ground to get strangers to trust me enough to tell their stories and share them with millions of people in a way that resonates.
The teams, locations, cast, and stories are all constantly shifting. There is no set script or scene numbers or dialogue lines to lean on, and since it’s not a predictable, controlled set with actors, a million things can go wrong. It's reverse-engineering a story in a lot of ways. You show up in preexisting spaces and look at who people are and what's happening in their lives or what’s happening immediately in front of you and then have to build the connective sinew between all of it on the fly. We often have very low budgets, work multiple titles in one, and our episodes can often be built, shot, and broken down in less than a day. I have been on the road for months with only a few days off through the entirety of that time span. You are continuously looking for connection . . . connection to the people in front of you, the towns they are in, the culture surrounding them, what they are sharing with you. You are making connections with your team and how they see the world, with the network that commissioned this, the production companies that bring you in, and, most importantly, with the people who will watch the program. You are stepping in and saying, How can I be a conduit? How can I handle this with care and levity? How can I help communicate this sentiment that so many will connect and relate to?
Amber: What keeps you coming back to this often grueling medium? I’ve seen you throughout the years come from doing a show feeling so thrilled but so beat up. It seems like some of the hardest work in entertainment.
April: What keeps me coming back to it is that connection. The teams of folks I have been lucky enough to work with are thoughtful, quick-witted, multi-hyphenates who often are also in love with pulling magic from thin air. Like me, they are often scrappy, self-taught or mentored, usually enthusiastic and ten-toes-down-to-the-earth grounded. I have become close friends with our talent (the folks in front of the camera), family to some, and can sit at almost any table anywhere in the world because of my experience as a storyteller. Unscripted allows you to do that. Knowing how to be with people and meet them exactly where they are, in their specific life journeys and life stories, allows you to get unbelievably close, to open yourself so that others might be inspired to open too. It’s a validation of the human experience on a crazy adventurous level.
Amber: What's it like to be a woman director in unscripted TV, especially when you're directing and collaborating with other amazing women?
April: Women are great. They just are. There’s always more under the surface. The invisible work we do continuously across the board can often be a relatable discovery and exploration between us on set . . . an excitable unearthing to get things done together. To creatively problem solve and nurture each other. To push and support. I filmed with Tiffani [Thiessen] when she had just given birth to her son, and I sometimes held him on set while directing her in a scene. Having helped raise my nieces and nephews, it was natural for us to extend that care to each other. That ease we feel as people, as women, also translates on the screen.
Amber: As a director, what do you look for when trying to capture the emotion of a specific moment that's literally unfolding on camera, in real time, right in front of you? Especially a moment that might be emotionally heightened or sensitive, such as an argument; or joy so profound that it brings someone to tears; or giving the audience a sense of an incredibly tense, stress-inducing competition atmosphere?
April: I joke/not joke that a lot of folks who've dealt with trauma spend a lot of time in non-fiction programming. You have to have a thick skin. You have to be able to read a room instantly. You have to notice subtleties that others might miss. Is this a good thing? You decide. I've been able to take this hyperawareness and turn it into a way to unearth a story—to get to the root of what someone really wants to say or do, almost like a therapist would. Who are the lovers? The villains? I look at every story like it’s precious and personal, because it is, and lean into what the moment is asking us to see and manifest as much as possible. I'd like to believe that who I am helps these stories come to life. We've been invited into deeper levels of people’s lives based on my connection to the folks I meet. I become vulnerable too. I empathize. I hold and carry and share back. I really work to keep my film sets feeling light and fun and ready for whatever the moment will present to us.
Amber: What do you think is most misrepresented, or even misunderstood, about women in reality TV, both in front of and behind the camera?
April: That there’s not space for the diversity of who we are. That the way things have always been done should be the way it remains. I’m a woman who is tough and sharp in all the ways reality TV shows need a leader to be, but unfortunately, that’s not the way many of my male counterparts like women to be. In this male dominated industry, the leaders I’ve worked for and with have bristled when I value emotions on a set—whether those emotions are my own or those of my crew and talent—which is odd as emotion is so relevant to the work we seek to do. And yet, these same people often expect me to take care of their personal problems and help them solve their own feelings about any given situation. I’m keenly aware of the double standard women like me face in positions of authority on sets in this way: “Don't feel anything at all but do take care of how I’m feeling!” We are often looked at as women in all the negative stereotypical ways instead of for the incredibly nuanced power and wisdom we hold and are able to effectively communicate, both behind the camera and on screen.
I also think that people misunderstand the capacities and experiences of women in non-fiction storytelling. We might have one single title on a set (director or producer or locations or talent wrangler) but we always end up doing the work of all the roles (director and producer and locations and talent wrangler) without the credits or the compensation. This is part of that systemic inequality in the entertainment business.
I find that other mediums—film, scripted TV, theater, music—tend to think our skill sets are lacking or cheap. But we are often unique in our miracle work. Our experience is rich, and the ability to make magic happen on the fly is real. You could bring us just about anywhere all over the world, and within days we can find the most compelling and powerful story you’ve ever heard.
Amber: If I, Amber Beyoncé Tamblyn, had a reality show, what would it be about? (Bracing myself for this answer!!)
April: Honestly, you’re one of the funniest, quick-witted women I know. You do the hard work, whatever it is. You’re fiercely loyal. A lover and fighter. I’d definitely put you in charge of an island where folks need to be told about themselves . . . and I would move there immediately.
Amber: *Eyes well up with puppy dog tears.* I love you, April Jones.
Who is the April Jones in your life? Who is the one who values you and your emotional capacity and integrity and tells you often how amazing you are? Let us know in the comments.
Thanks for this!
Love these "inside" insights. Thank you for sharing them!