The Art of the Opening Credits

I've written before about how HBO saved television by breaking ground. Without "The Sopranos", it's very likely shows like "House", "Lost", "24" and "Rescue Me" would've never been given a chance on major networks.

It wasn't just that HBO permits profanity, violence and strong sexual content, because those things alone make for awful story-telling (case in point: most of the shows on FX). It was that HBO, through their drama, was able to tell stories of real humanity. The key to HBO's success is not that they push the limits of what should be shown on television, but that their stories offer hope and community in a world where TV is nearly entirely devoid of these values. HBO is not afraid to show viewers a sprawling cast of characters, and those characters are rarely all good or all evil.

But I've said many of these things before. I want this article to focus on one particular iconic principle of HBO dramas: the evolution of the HBO Original Series opening credit sequence.

Looking through these videos, I was struck at how much the imagery of each is imprinted on the pop culture psyche. I've never watched much of "Six Feet Under" or "Sex in the City", but both sequences featured images immediately familiar to me, like the tree in the field and Carrie Bradshaw's bus advertisement.

Let's start with the most well-known of the opening sequences.

Most "Sopranos" devotees could run through these scenes in their head. Songwriter Scott Miller once sang, "It used to be pretty on the Eastern Shore/Now it's more New York down to Baltimore", and it's hard to argue from the grainy footage and the curling smoke from Tony's cigar. This early version features a haunting shot of the World Trade Center, which was removed from the sequence post-9/11. From the first moments, it is evident just how alone Tony is in a cold world. I especially love the transition toward the end as the neighborhoods get nicer, and Tony finally arrives home, the look on his face says it all.

Most HBO credits run over a minute, and "Sex and the City"'s is mercifully short. There's only so much Sarah Jessica Parker mugging I can take. It's not the worst credit roll on HBO, however...we'll get to that later.

Pay special attention to the :24 mark. Is it possible "Sex in the City" paved the way for "Blue Like Jazz"?

I do appreciate the freeze frame at the end, though.

Once you get past the obvious morbidity, it's alarming to see how "Six Feet Under"'s sequence influenced "Desperate Housewives" with its choice of music. The hallmark of opening sequences are their promise of things to come, a dose of the familiar to remind you why you love this show to begin with. Even though I'm not familiar with the show, there are so many gorgeous images, from the quickly spun gurney wheel to the animated tree at the end, going through the seasons.

"The Wire" is notable for changing its opening credits every season, with varying footage and the same theme song performed by different artists, from the Blind Boys of Alabama to the Neville Brothers to Baltimore teenagers DoMaJe. My favorite version so far is the above sequence, during season 2, performed by Tom Waits.

The sequence is rougher and more traditional in its format, but the alarming imagery strikes the very heart of the show, including closeups of surveillance equipment and crime scene evidence. Throughout the first three seasons, my favorite clip of a security camera cracked by a thrown rock remains constant.

The lack of flash and pomp is perfectly paired with the show's intricate but deceptively simple storytelling.

Beyond the 1930's film reels, tarot cards and good/evil symbolism, the "Carnivale" credits also paralleled the show's arc, starting hot on a wave of buzz ("Carnivale"'s first episode was the most watched debut in HBO history) before the show's mind-boggling mythology and terrifying content scared viewers away.

It's a beautiful sequence, and you can view an analysis of the symbolism here. Imagery aside, the music over the sequence pushes it to another level, swelling and reeling from clip to tarot card to clip.

David Milch's first entry in the HBO stable begins in a similar style to that of "Six Feet Under", but I love the reliance on water, from the splashing mud of the road through blood running down porcelain, gold pulled from a creek thick with erosion and finally (how can you ignore it?) a woman sliding into a hot bath. The sequence conveys the stark contrasts of life in Deadwood. We can picture whiskey in shot glasses and poker hands, but the filth of the environs is where Milch draws your eye.

The most vapid show on HBO also has the worst opening scene. Supporters claim "Entourage" is a sly, satirical look at life in Hollywood, but I'm prone to wonder if that's a case of looking too hard. For the most part, "Entourage" is fun male fantasy: four friends living the rich and famous lifestyle, and I can't say it's not entertaining.

But everything about this sequence: the song, the lights, the credits...it's all so grating.

With past intros already part of pop culture iconography, "Big Love" may be HBO's crowing achievement, a deceptively simple concept set to one of the greatest songs of all time, the Beach Boys' "God Only Knows".

On first viewing, the set around Bill seems oddly low-budget but winning just the same. This season, it hit me: Bill and his wives aren't skating on a pond...they're skating on the Great Salt Lake itself, hot desert to the west and the Wasatch Range to the east. I've also been struck with how pensive the wives seem as they skate in a circle, then the crack separates them. Moments later, they are reunited in a heavenly maze, finally sitting down to dinner in their celestial kingdom.

I'm going to go all conspiracy theory here and ponder aloud if the Hendrickson's will survive the show's existence. "Big Love" is a text-book example of rising tension as more and more conflict is heaped on the polygamist family. Could that tension end in deaths? And why does the ice cracking separate the three wives, but Bill and Barb's section is still intact? You heard it here first!

(I can't mention this sequence without pointing out Margene's face right before the screen fades to white at the end of the heaven scene. For the past 14 times we've watched the show, Mindy has said the same exact line, "Margene looks so pretty there." It may not have needed 13 repeatings, but it is true.)

"John From Cincinnati" is just intriguing enough that I watch every week, even if I'm not exactly anticipating it. If you can handle the yelling and David Milch's fustian (take that, Milch) dialogue, there seems to be a spectacular storyline brewing just under the surface.

Whatever you say about the show, the opening credits are a joy to watch, with Joe Strummer's "Johnny Appleseed" bringing a jubilant but wary jangle over footage of surfing throughout the decades and Californian border town life. The song is perfect credit fodder: "Johnny Appleseed" builds with the clips and is obscure enough to avoid cliche. I can almost picture Milch coming up with the story concepts as this song played in the background.

Opening sequences for HBO comedies aren't typically great (see "Entourage", "Sex and the City" and "Curb Your Enthusiasm", which doesn't have opening credits), but "Flight of the Conchords" has its moments, like when Bret air drums with his spoon and the salt and pepper shakers dance along. Overall, though, the whole Wes Anderson/"Napoleon Dynamite" feel is wearing thin.

I'm not sure who came up with the credit sequence, but show creators and stars Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement have certainly come through in the past. I'll leave you with one final clip, an opening that never made it to HBO, but I kind of wish it had.