When the court rises at 5pm, a fourth camera shows the whole room: rows of desks, cupboards and computer monitors; all comfortably integrated into a bland interior. But during the proceedings, we have been receiving pictures from three, other cameras, each of which is trained like a spotlight on a different section of the room. Each section of the chamber has its own protagonist – a judge, a barrister, a series of witnesses; but their respective ‘spots’ are so varied that these actors could be playing entirely different scenes, instead of complementary aspects of the same courtroom drama. Scene 1 The Control Centre: Lord Leveson is tightly shot, framed by blue curtains, wooden desk, and a high-backed, matt-black chair. Domed head and no legs visible, he resembles the crippled comic strip character, the Mekon, at the controls of a levitating stairlift. But Leveson’s voice is just Northern enough to make his received pronunciation sound like suburban social climbing: more Didsbury than Dan Dare. Scene 2 The Forest: Green, yellow and brown (suit, tie, hair); olive tints, and is that a dash of paprika in his beard? Colourful Robert Jay QC appears before a lush background made up of other people; functionaries of the court, but people nonetheless. Nestling in all this warmth and greenery, the answers he draws out from witnesses are like long filaments of chlorophyll. Scene 3 Forensics: He’s sitting down but the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport still looks splayed out against the plain white wall behind him. Plain white light bounces off the wall, reddening his cheeks and forehead, making him appear feverish, alarmed. Now that the third camera is depicting Jeremy Hunt, are we looking at the infamous mugshot of the defendant – the one the police always take when the suspect is first brought into the station? Or are we already in the mortuary, with the body of the late cabinet minister laid out on a slab?