Title Sequences or: How I Learned to Suspend Disbelief and Love the Film

“You are sheltering enemies of the state, are you not?”

“I believe, that whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you…stranger.”

 “Reach for the sky!”

These three lines come from, in my opinion, three of the most iconic openings in recent cinema. Some may refer to it as the opening scene, some call them intros, others prologues. Because I’m pretentious, I call them Title Sequences. 

You’ll notice that each of these specific title sequences come after the actual title displays on screen. (Except for one. The Batman logo serves as the title in one of these films.) While they may come after the actual title, I still consider them a title sequence in concept. 

The title sequence serves many purposes in film, and today I want to cover some of those purposes. They’re tools used to draw the viewer into the film, introduce characters, and serve as a vessel to introduce the cinematic style. If you think of a film as an essay, the title sequence acts as the introductory paragraph. Title sequences serve almost as an amuse-bouche, a taste of what’s to come. 

By the way, if you don’t know what movies I’ve quoted, (you may live under a rock) they’re all exceptional. In order, they are: 

Inglourious Basterds by Quentin Tarantino

The Dark Knight by Christopher Nolan

Toy Story 3 by Lee Unkrich

These title sequences all introduce the movie in unique ways. Tarantino uses the title sequence to introduce the viewer to the twisted Nazi SS Officer Hans Landa, as well as set the tone for the rest of the film. From the title sequence, Landa is not just a villain, he’s scum. He’s the worst person the audience will ever meet. Which is exactly the point. There is no redemption for a man like Landa, and this sequence shows why. Not only does Landa work for the Nazis, he revels in the fact that he has his position. He loves being a “Jew-Hunter.” He loves putting farmer LaPadite under pressure, and forcing the man into a cold sweat. It’s like breathing for him, almost something he feels compelled to do. The title sequence of Inglourious Basterds introduces us to a villain archetype that, while audiences have certainly seen the likes of before, (see Ralph Fiennes in Schindler’s List)  they’ve never seen a villain like Landa put on the screen in such a perfected manner. What kind of man can stop this abhorrent waste of oxygen? Only a person just as twisted, that thankfully serves a better, more justifiable purpose. 

Also, before I move onto the next two stories, I’d like to put you on to a film. The actor who plays Perrier LaPadite in the title sequence of Inglorious Basterds, Denis Ménochet, stars in a Spanish film called As Bestas, or The Beasts in English. I watched it for a film class while I studied abroad, and it blew me away. Directed by Rodrigo Sorogoyen, it follows the struggle between a French couple who have moved to the Spanish countryside, and the locals. While the premise may seem a little boring, I promise the film is worth the watch. Sorogoyen also directed a movie called May God Save Us. It is a neo-noir crime thriller that follows two detectives in Madrid as they search for a serial killer. However, their hunt requires them to reflect upon themselves, and come to terms with the fact that they may be more similar to the killer than they realize. Both films are excellent, but they use the Spanish/Castilian dialect of the language, making subtitles not only recommended, but probably required, even for natural Latin American Spanish speakers. 

In 2008, arguably one of the best movies ever made, and certainly the best comic book film ever made, released to unsuspecting audiences. Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight opens with a bank heist. This title sequence, or “Prologue,” as Nolan calls it, was groundbreaking. Not only was it the first ever scene to use the now immensely popular IMAX cameras, it introduced audiences to a new kind of comic book film. See, The Dark Knight isn’t a superhero movie. It’s a crime thriller, with comic book characters spliced throughout. The prologue showed audiences that they were in for a brand new story, with a villain unlike any they’d seen before. At the end of the title sequence, Heath Ledger walks towards the gutshot bank manager while he asks him: 

“Look at you! What do you believe in, huh? What do you believe in?!?”

The Joker crouches down, sticks a smoke grenade in his mouth, pulls off the clown mask he’d worn through the entire robbery and says: 

“I believe, that whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you…stranger.”

He smirks, walks past his dead compatriots, and leaves. It is still regarded as the greatest villain reveal of all time, and to many, Ledger’s performance ranks as the best. The Prologue sets up a new kind of villain, in an immensely innovative film that subverts the comic book film genre in a way that has yet to be matched almost 20 years later. 

Now, you’re probably thinking, “why am I still reading this?” Instead, ask yourself, “how does Nolan’s title sequence introduce a villain any differently than Tarantino’s?” The answer is actually pretty simple. Landa’s introduction in the title sequence serves as an introduction to how he operates. Hans Landa is one of the first faces we see in Inglourious Basterds, one of the first to speak in the film, and he’s a man obsessed with being the smartest in the room. Alternatively, the Joker’s introduction is nearly the opposite. We have no idea who the Joker is. The small-time criminals he hires to rob Gotham’s bank don’t know who he is, and they speculate as to why he’s referred to as the Joker. He keeps himself a secret to his team, and the audience, until he’s already achieved his goal. The title sequence sets up this version of the Joker to a tee. In previous adaptations, we almost knew too much about the character. In The Killing Joke, the character’s entire backstory is revealed. In Batman (1989), Jack Nicholson’s Jack Napier is slowly built into the Joker. But in The Dark Knight, the Joker just IS. He exists only to serve as an agent of chaos, which is why this iteration is so scary, and why his introduction is so well regarded. Both films use their title sequence to introduce the primary antagonists in two different ways. Landa is overt, direct, and evil directly out of the gates. The Joker is understated, calm, and on the sidelines until his point needs to be proven. While both villains represent evil, one describes himself as a loose cannon, a dog chasing cars, while in reality he has every avenue covered. On the other hand, the other presents himself as intentional, a man with one mission, when the truth is he has no endgame in mind. 

Okay, let’s lighten the mood. Like, a lot. Imagine another robbery, this time on a train, pulled off by Mr. Potatohead, or in Andy’s imagination, One-Eyed Bart. Yes, the next title sequence I’m discussing is from none other than 2010’s Toy Story 3. I saw this movie in the theater as a kid, and I distinctly recall giggling over the line “Evil Doctor Pork Chop!” (By the way, if you haven’t seen these movies in a while, give them a watch. The Toy Story trilogy isn’t just a perfect trilogy, all three films are utterly hilarious. Those movies are so goddamn funny I can’t even begin to explain it.) All three movies are fantastic, but the third film really sticks out to me. While Toy Story 2 similarly opens with one of the toys acting as their characters would in their toy centered “reality,” the third film exemplifies the imaginative genius of this trilogy. Toy Story 2’s opening is essentially just a play through of the Buzz Lightyear video game, and it’s great, but it just doesn’t have that same magic. The reason I love Toy Story 3’s title sequence so much is because it shows what a young boy’s imagination can create. We see the toys we’ve come to know and love over the years, act completely differently. Rex is actually “scary” for once, Woody is a real sheriff, and the western train heist theme is just phenomenal. It brilliantly introduces the film after 9 years of waiting, and it gave the animators so much leg room. The title sequence immediately reattaches the audience back to what Toy Story is supposed to feel like, and it sets up the prison break movie to a T. 

Sure, all three of these films are in no way related to each other, but are in one way connected. Their title sequences set up each film for the audience to do one thing: suspend disbelief. Suspension of disbelief is one of the most important tools in story telling, however not for the storyteller, but the audience. If you’ve never seen a play outside of your middle school, there’s something your brain does while sitting in that uncomfortable chair in that century old theater. The lights go down, the curtain goes up, and you escape. Despite the fact that you’re watching actual humans, right in front of you, you forget that. Somehow, you truly believe these actors are their characters, and they only exist on the stage. The same phenomenon is required in the movie theater. I love suspending disbelief, and I’ll always do my best to give the film a chance, especially if the title sequence does the work for me. 

The filmmaker asks us to step into this world, and the best way they can do that is through the title sequence. It is our obligation as a viewer to suspend our disbelief, say, “okay,” and accept that this is reality for a few hours.

That’s about all I have to say on this matter. I know I sound like a super nerd when I talk about film, but I truly love the art form. If you’re the type to watch a movie in the background, phone in hand, then this article probably didn’t impress you. But if not, if you watch a title sequence and say, “let’s do this,” then I hope this one spoke to you. Thanks for reading.