There is groovy hair, such as Julie Christie in Shampoo, then there is groovier hair, Angie Dickinson in Police Woman. She is the hippest police detective ever. Since it was 1974, Police Woman was required to have “Woman” in the title. “Police” just sounded dull. There was no spin-off, “Police Man” as in the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman. If there had been, it would probably be Barnaby Jones. Buddy Ebsen at 95 was far less active, however, than Angie Dickinson.

The lesson here is this: add “Woman” to any show title, Six Feet Under a Woman, Star Trek Woman, Love Boat Woman, Lost Woman. It makes a more interesting concept. And, when you only have live action footage to work with when creating a title sequence, use freeze frames, fast zoom shots, and details of things like legs.

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Farenheit 451 title sequence

The typical line used in a 1950s science fiction trailer is, “this could be YOUR future!” Most of the time, they are pretty far off. I haven’t been taken over by pod people. Flying saucers have not bombed Washington D.C. We haven’t started turning dead people into Soylent Green. If you watch Fahrenheit 451, however, they were fairly spot on. Now we don’t travel in monorails and the landscape doesn’t look like an odd post-war European neighborhood, but the television idea is right. Everyone has giant wall mounted monitors. Nobody, except revolutionary intellectuals reads. And the television shows use the audience as part of the program, as in “What do you think… Linda?” or “Vote now on American Idol.”

Whatever your position is on the benefits or evils of reading, the title sequence is magnificent. How do you create titles when the audience can’t read? You can do it with still images of television antennas, solid color, and a voice over. No type, no animation, it’s a simple idea that costs $1.25. But I’ll take this over a million-dollar HD CD sequence that has glossy chrome, flying thingamajigs, and blasting audio. Call me old.

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I have a reel that I show my first year students at Art Center. It’s a collection of my favorite classic film titles. Of course I have multiple Saul Bass titles, such as Psycho and North by Northwest. I have Stephen Frankfurt’s beautiful sequence for To Kill a Mockingbird, and other incredible examples. I also have the title sequence for Gidget. Why? Because I love Gidget. If you don’t you are probably a Communist. The sequence is pretty cheesy, but perfect. So laugh if you must at my inclusion of Gidget in my Top 10 titles list. Some day, however, Gidget will be recognized as genius. A little bit of trivia: Sally Field played Gidget, and her brother on Brothers and Sisters, Ron Rifkin, played Mel, one of the gang on Gidget.

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Title card, Meet me in St. Louis, 1944

the house, Meet me in St. Louis, 1944

I can’t say I really dig Christmas movies. The whole Elf, Tim Allen Santa thing just makes me cranky. I will, however, watch Meet Me in St. Louis. It’s not particularly Christmas themed, but it has nifty titles, technicolor, and a happy turn of the century setting. I don’t quite understand the plot. It’s a family, and the world’s fair, St. Louis, and a possible move to New York. This is the part that I don’t understand: The father gets a better job in New York, so the family needs to move. But everyone is so whiny and spoiled that he decides to forgo this amazing opportunity and stay in St. Louis.

That’s not going to end well. They’re all happy at the end of the movie, but a few years later when teenage rebellion kicks in there are going to be screaming matches. “I gave up the biggest chance of my life for you girls!” says the father, “F#*k You! F#*kface” screams the teenage daughter. The titles are nice though.

End credits, Meet me in St. Louis, 1944

Title card, Meet me in St. Louis, 1944

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One of the disturbing things about getting older is that all of your cultural references become obsolete. I’ll mention Leave it to Beaver, and get blank stares. Or I’ll suggest someone look at the colors of the Fillmore posters, and, once again the stare that says, “Wha’?” and, “You’re old.” Today I mentioned Pablo Ferro’s incredible title sequence for Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb and had a similar reaction. I love Ferro’s explanation that refers to the sexuality of the scene. Others might skirt the issue, or suggest the viewer can determine his or her own meaning. Pablo states blatantly, “Everything we do is always very sexual. A B-52 refueling in midair? Of course! It’s sexual.” The combination of the wonderfully immediate typography, easy listening music, and documentary footage creates a pornographic and sensual experience. Okay, maybe not hot, hot, hot pornography, but certainly sensual.

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