Opening Credits That Do the Work

The biggest mistake you can make is assuming that any part of your narrative is extraneous.

Friendos, I’m not a particularly smart man¹. I have exactly one skill, only a limited amount of shame, and a tendency to mistakenly believe that I can make any outfit look good, no matter how ill-fitting or ludicrous². My enjoyment of entertainments tends towards the superficial—while I like to think I know what makes a story tick, sometimes I just enjoy things for entirely dumb reasons³.

For example: If your film or television show has an absolutely amazing opening credits sequence, there’s a 67% chance I will watch the entire run. It’s that easy. I’m that easy.

The thing about opening credit sequences—as well as their disgusting cousins, the prologue—is that they represent an incredible opportunity. This is basically free real estate where you can wedge in all manner of storytelling work. Opening credits can be used to set a tone, to tell a backstory, to build a world—just about anything, often with the bonus of not having to adhere to any of the rules of normal narrative. And once you see a credits sequence that actually does work, that in some way improves, strengthens, or deepens a story, you have to wonder why in the world any creative person would pass up the opportunity.

Throw Your Dog the Invisible Bone

What started me down this rabbit hole was the opening credits of Peacemaker, the somewhat ridiculous superhero show set in the DC universe:

That is some high-quality cheese there. Gunn has been up front about making this sequence eye-catching and weird specifically to inspire people to actually watch the opening credits sequence instead of hitting SKIP INTRO like a normie. It’s goddamn mesmerizing, in my opinion⁴.

I can’t stop watching it. And while the sequence initially doesn’t do much work in terms of character, story, or setting, once you sit with it for a bit it sort of does. The robotic, puppet-like dance moves make a lot of sense as the story unfolds, and there are a host of little details—like the way Judomaster lurks in the shadows in several shots before joining the dance—that do some character and plot work. And Gunn’s comments make it clear that he understands the power of a good credits sequence. It was crafted for a specific purpose and works gangbusters. If you skip this opening your might be a bad person⁵.

Compare it to another opening credits sequence that doesn’t do much for character, plot, or setting (well, maybe a tiny bit for setting—but not much, muchacho): The Office.

The opening credits are classic today solely because of the show’s iconic status. They sort of straddle the old school TV world (hence the quick-cut character shots, a stylistic relic of the past) and the new, but they don’t do much work. The song’s catchy enough but doesn’t really match the cringe tone of the scripts, and while there are some establishing shots of Scranton and some hints to character personalities in the cuts, it’s a missed opportunity to squeeze in some extra storytelling or jokes⁶. Take a show like Community—the opening credits are a little generic, and don’t do much aside from riff kind of lazily on the school setting:

But the song choice is brilliant. Community is a show about people finding a second chance at a community college after their initial dreams flame out. Several of them are a bit long in the tooth to be going back to school, and the theme music in the opening perfectly captures the tone. It sounds upbeat and excited, but the lyrics tell a slightly different story once you pay attention to them:

Give me some rope tie me to dream

Give me the hope to run out of steam

Somebody said it can be here

We could be roped up, tied up, dead in a year

But I can’t count the reasons I should stay

One by one they all just fade away

The lyrics evoke that sense of having missed out, that a period of your life is ending and the people you once knew will soon be nothing but memories—and even the memories will fade.

There's a Man Goin’ ‘Round, Takin’ Names

But some opening credits sequences really make use of that visual real estate. Instead of some pretty music and title cards, they actually do some story work. Typically, you see this in films because they have more time to play with—a two-minute credits sequence isn’t as jarring in a 100-minute film as it would be in a 22-minute sitcom or even a 45-minute drama⁷.

But you do see some incredibly hard-working opening credits sequences on TV. The obvious example would be the credits for Game of Thrones:

Not only are those credits artfully done, they do a lot of work for audiences unfamiliar with the books or perhaps unfamiliar with fantasy world-building and fictional maps in the first place⁸. The way the sequence (which changed depending on what parts of the world were featured in that episode) grounds the viewer in the geography while also reminding them of the characters associated with each location was brilliant, and a large reason why folks who never imagined they’d get into a show about dragons and fictional medieval kingdoms did get into a show about dragons and fictional medieval kingdoms⁹.

There are a few other credits sequences that stand out and demonstrate how useful this visual real estate can be:

The densest backstory of all time award goes to the opening credits to Watchmen, which manages to explain the entire fictional history of this world in just over four minutes of painterly, slow-mo tableaus¹⁰:

The classic opening credits of Se7en do slightly more abstract but still effective world-building. You don’t know what you’re seeing until you’re deep in the film, but you’re effectively creeped out, terrified, and uneasy and you haven’t even met John Doe yet:

Wes Anderson can be a bit ... precious (something that’s gotten much, much worse as he ages¹¹), but the man knows how to block a shot. The opening sequence of The Royal Tenenbaums is pure genius for establishing a group of characters using purely visual elements. By the time this story actually begins, you know who these people are:

Some films have used the opening credits to give the viewer a high-altitude view of the universe. The epic, incredible sequence from Lord of War is one of the greatest world-building opening credits in history, presenting its worldview in a few incredible minutes that have a pretty shocking end¹²:

And one of my all-time favorites is 2004’s Dawn of the Dead remake. The film itself is mediocre, IMHO, but both the opening and ending credits are awesome. The opening credits succinctly run through the end of the world so we can dive right into the actual story¹³:

And the end credits give us some great closure on the ultimate fate of the protagonists, undermining the subverting the classic happy-ish ending we thought we had¹⁴:

Once you see how hard these credits sequences work, you can’t watch other, lesser credits sequences without a wince and a sigh. If you’re telling a story, why not use this screen time to fit in a little more story? Especially the kind of stuff that sometimes results in clunky exposition, because the opening sequence is a place where clunky exposition, frankly, isn’t a concern. Exposition away!

I’ve tried to do this in my own writing, but so far no publisher has allowed me to include a prologue that is just doodles of cats¹⁵.

Next week: The Abyss boofs at the end.

1. Exhibit number one: I thought becoming a writer would make me rich. Spoiler: It did not.

2. I take it back: This is 100% my other skill. No one rocks a crushed velvet dinner jacket like Yours Truly.

3. Yup: “Enjoy Things for Entirely Dumb Reasons” is the title of my memoir.

4. I am considering a lawsuit because they totally stole the dance moves I unleash in the privacy of my bedroom.

5. It’s okay. I am a bad person too. We can form a gang.

6. Even so, I have to admit that just hearing those opening piano licks makes me feel better. But then, I’m a weirdo.

7. And you never have to watch those credits 200 times like you did with TV shows in the days before some hero stepped up and invented SKIP INTRO. Where was their Nobel Prize? They saved civilization.

8. The fact that The Duchess, a woman reacts to every fantasy trope with undisguised disdain, got so deeply into this show remains a mystery of the universe.

9. And then had regrets. So, so many regrets. I mean, it’s obvious that George R.R. Martin is re-writing his ending completely after the disaster that was the GoT finale, right?

10. I know what we’re all thinking: What that movie needed was more blue penis.

11. At this point he’s essentially filming Little Rascals-like DIY theater productions, but I have to admit that everyone involved seems to be having a terrific time making those movies.

12. What’s amazing is that in 2005 Nic Cage breaking the fourth wall in a film was exciting. Today Nic Cage breaking the fourth wall is … terrfifying, because I believe he can actually see me.

13. Johnny Cash’s calm assurance that the end of the world will be absolutely bonkers terrifying is, strangely, calming.

14. The end credits to Dawn of the Dead are 100% how I think my own zombie apocalypse experience would go: Badly.

15. Or a link to a 5-hour video of me staring intently into the camera trying to learn Nic Cage’s trick for seeing people through time and space via fourth wall breaks.