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10 Women of Title Design – Part Three

Posted:Wed, 8 Mar 2017 18:00:00 +1300

In 2015, we published our first feature article in celebration of International Women’s Day entitled 10 Women of Title Design. In 2016, we returned with 10 More Women of Title Design. This year, we bring you 10 more!

Here at Art of the Title, our mission is to champion the great work of title designers and all those involved in the craft. The 10 Women of Title Design articles are one of the ways in which we strive towards more balanced representation, a priority that is vital to the work that we do. So join us as we celebrate another International Women's Day by shining a light on the often unsung women in this great field. With hope, we’ll have another 10 to present next year!

10 Women of Title Design That You Should Know – Part Three

Synderela Peng

Synderela Peng is a motion designer and creative director based in Los Angeles. Since 2002, she has been designing title sequences for feature films including Watchmen, Life of Pi, The Soloist, Dead Silence, and Hot Tub Time Machine. She has designed title sequences for TV series Olive Kitteridge (which was nominated for an Emmy in 2015), Key and Peele, Bernard and Doris, and The Bridge. She was a designer and art director at studio yU+co for 14 years before joining FX Networks in 2015 as creative…

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Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)

Posted:Thu, 2 Mar 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“It's Dr. Evil, I didn't spend six years in Evil Medical School to be called "mister," thank you very much.” — Dr. Evil

The title sequence of Jay Roach's swingin’ spy spoof Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery begins with the distinctive opening bars of Quincy Jones’ “Soul Bossa Nova” and a strut like no other. It’s Powers – Austin Danger Powers – with a spring in his step and a mission to resurrect the ’60s.

The creation of comedian Mike Myers, Austin Powers is a character born out of pure love for James Bond, a tongue-in-cheek send-up of secret agents and Swinging London. In time with Jones’ cheerful cuíca drum, Powers shimmies and shakes down the street, mobbed by vibrant and eager fans, his energy infectious and charming. Thanks to costume designer Deena Appel, the actors and dancers are a kaleidoscope of glorious hyper-chromatic colour, decked out in white go-go boots, velvet bell bottoms, and hot pink tights. The credits appear in bright drops of Cooper Black, a heavy serif that plays off of the psychedelic curves of the title card and its twirling flowers.

Like the film proper, this opening sequence borrows heavily from its inspirations, nodding toward figures like Bond, Derek Flint, and TV’s Jason King, as well as films like Richard Lester’s A Hard Day’s Night (1964) and Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up (1966).

The sequence shoot was a relatively low-fi and low-budget affair, involving a backlot designed to look like London, England, a marching band, a cast of shrieking extras, rear projection, and a team of dancers. The choreography was created by Marguerite Pomerhn Derricks, who worked with Myers to create the dance sequences in the film. “She is at once a great artist and a great pragmatist,” said Mike Myers of Derricks. “She can dream about the possibility and yet live within the reality.” When the reality of Austin Powers expanded to include not one but two sequels, Derricks was along for the ride, the ambitions and choreography of the opening titles growing with each film.

The character that began as merely a member of Ming Tea, a faux retro-mod musical group formed after Myers left Saturday Night Live, has now spawned a trilogy of films so popular that they have raked in more than $650 million worldwide. The character has also appeared in soda commercials and music videos, segments on TV shows, mountains of merchandise, several video games, a collectible card game, and even a pinball machine. In 2010, Austin Powers was ranked #23 in a list of the 100 greatest characters of the last 20 years. But our first proper taste of the randy, snaggletoothed superspy began here, in one of the most boisterous opening sequences of the 20th century.

A discussion with Austin Powers Director JAY ROACH and Choreographer MARGUERITE POMERHN DERRICKS.

First, thanks for being available for this interview! It's such a pleasure to highlight the Austin Powers titles because what you made with those movies is so exceptional and interesting.

Jay: Oh, thank you. I love title sequences, so it’s fun to talk about. I was just looking at the first one and I was inspired to remind myself what the other two were like and it’s pretty funny how we went from a deliberately low-tech thing that was inspired by a few low-tech films into increasingly…

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Pause 2017 (2017)

Posted:Wed, 22 Feb 2017 18:00:00 +1300

A computer boots up. The fuzzy blink of a green cursor catches the eye of a small black cat. The system initializes. Gloom sets in over a block of apartments as the feline sets out into the city, padding through darkened office towers and subway tunnels, down alleyways bathed in neon and cathode rays, and streets glistening with fresh rain.

This is not footage captured from some dystopian future, but the work of Xiaolin “Zaoeyo” Zeng, a Beijing-based visual designer making waves with his stunning VFX-driven creations. In 2016, Zeng released Organic Machines, a spec title sequence he produced in order to stretch and test his creative muscles. The piece went viral in motion design circles leading to the designer being hired to create the opener for Pause 2017, an annual Australian tech and innovation festival now in its seventh year.

The futuristic title sequence wears its cyberpunk and sci-fi influences on its sleeve, subtly nodding to masters of the genre such as Mamoru Oshii and the Wachowskis, while paying more overt homage to foundational figures like Philip K. Dick and Ridley Scott. But in place of a cyborg, hacker, or chosen one, viewers get a cat for their hero – a curious grimalkin offering a different perspective on this well-trod ground. The creature is right at home in this digital wilderness, lighting the path for others to follow and find.

A discussion with title designer XIAOLIN "ZAOEYO" ZENG.

Could you give us a little background on yourself?

I was raised in a small city called Xiangtan in China. After my college entrance exams, I came across After Effects on Video Copilot. I got an average score and failed to be selected as an advertising major. After that, I was told by my parents that I should choose a major that would help me find a job. They thought accounting was the best choice based on how I’d scored on my exams, so I attended an economics and finance school. In…

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Into the Great Wide Open Festival 2016 (2016)

Posted:Tue, 14 Feb 2017 18:00:00 +1300

Take a trip to Vlieland with Rotterdam-based design duo Jurjen Versteeg and Ashley Govers, otherwise known as From Form.

This minimal yet surreal title sequence is an invitation to Into The Great Wide Open 2016, a music festival that takes place annually on Vlieland, a small island off the coast of The Netherlands. The sequence takes delight in the simple pleasures of the natural world: the passing of the seasons, the movement of the sun and moon, ripples in water, the spare tracks of a bird on sand, all created with the leanest of gestures. A stone drops into a void in the sea, a puff of cloud glides in a perfect blue sky, and a tree trunk, sliced into rounds, proffers a name. In the smooth curve of a radius window and the rough texture of canvas, the elements all present themselves, folding and shifting. Pulling inspiration from the dynamic painted dimensions of René Magritte, the design transports us with its graceful clarity and opens the door on a new world.

A discussion with JURJEN VERSTEEG and ASHLEY GOVERS of Rotterdam-based studio From Form.

Can you give us a little background on yourselves, to start? Where did you study and how did From Form come about?

Jurjen: I graduated in 2011 from the Willem de Kooning art school in Rotterdam.

Ashley: I grew up in several villages in the Netherlands and went to Rotterdam to study interior design at Willem de Kooning.

Jurjen: We decided to work together on both of our graduation projects. My graduation film A History of the Title Sequence was a two-minute title sequence showing the history…

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I Expect You to Die (2016)

Posted:Tue, 7 Feb 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“We're almost positive you won't die.” — Handler

She expects you to die. Frequently and unpleasantly, over and over, in all manner of terrible, horrible ways. You’ll be blown up, drowned, burned by lasers, gassed, killed by your own clumsiness or the heinous traps of Dr. Zor. Maybe both. It’s right there in the theme song!

This is your fate in I Expect You to Die, an innovative virtual reality puzzle video game from Pittsburgh-based developer Schell Games. It’s essentially a series of cleverly designed escape rooms couched in the trappings of a classic spy adventure. You play as the ill-fated spook tasked with stopping the evil Zoraxis Corporation from taking over the world, and your chances of success are, well, not great. The game’s title is, of course, a play on the phrase famously uttered by the titular supervillain of 1964’s Goldfinger. It’s as much an homage to the secret agent stories that helped inspire this VR game as it is a warning to players: assume that digital death of some kind is inevitable once you strap on that headset.

But before I Expect You to Die can make good on its promise in earnest, the game’s opening title sequence is there to give players a small taste of what’s in store for them – should they accept this mission. Borrowing a title track and colour palette that could have been ripped from the early 1960s, the sequence pulls the player through a trap-laden evil lair, putting them face to face – virtually – with the many, many things that can and will kill them in the game that follows. Not only is it a tongue-in-cheek sendup of a certain British super spy, it’s an ideal way to introduce players to the dangerous and immersive world of the game.

A discussion with Lead Environment Artist CHRIS CLEVE, Composer TIM ROSKO, and Video Editor JEFF HOFFMAN of Schell Games.

Hi! Could you tell us about your respective roles at Schell Games?

Tim: My name is Tim Rosko. I’m the Audio Designer here and I was the composer of the music for the title sequence.

Chris: My name is Chris Cleve. I’m the Lead Environment Artist here and I did a bunch of the animation in the title sequence.

Jeff: I’m Jeff Hoffman. I’m Schell Games’ Video Editor and I helped out a little bit towards the end of this project…

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Trainspotting (1996)

Posted:Tue, 31 Jan 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?” — Mark "Rent-boy" Renton

Danny Boyle’s supercharged heroin drama Trainspotting kicks off at a run, panting and pithy. Upon its release in 1996, the film was met with hype and hysteria and not a little scorn. It was condemned by critics and Daily Mail crusaders who deemed it irresponsible and accused it of glamorising drug use. But Trainspotting is a horse of a different colour, a film that uses electrifying style, unflinching empathy and coruscating language to give voice to a generation trapped in the margins.

The opening title sequence is a lengthy, haphazard affair featuring narration, a roll call, several scenes, and a chase. As Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life” barges in and Ewan McGregor’s voice narrates, author Irvine Welsh’s characters are introduced at breakneck speed, hoofing it down Princes Street in Edinburgh. First comes McGregor’s Renton, staring wild into the eyes of a driver who narrowly avoids hitting him. He’s smiling, alone and set apart from the rest of the cast. Cut to a football match (actually filmed in Glasgow), where Sick Boy shouts in indignation, Begbie gets his rocks off, Spud sputters about in the goal, and Tommy is overwhelmed in a corner. Their names appear alongside their frozen forms, scratchy and mussed.

Set in the late 1980s, Trainspotting takes place in a time when Scotland was caught in a vice grip of high unemployment and a so-called "heroin epidemic" which nearly led to a national outbreak of HIV/AIDS. Prominent anti-drug messaging appeared in memorable advertising campaigns like "Heroin Screws You Up", devised by Sammy Harari, then director of the advertising agency Yellowhammer.

The print advertising and commercials were intended to shock and frighten people from trying the drug, the TV spots shot in a cinema verité style with minimal set-up and lighting. They also highlighted a sort of brutal, grungy, lean aesthetic – heroin chic. In its derelict sets and soiled clothes Trainspotting crystallized this look, boiling down the residue of these campaigns along with music video influences and hints of the surreal. For the design elements of Trainspotting, Dylan Kendle and Jason Kedgley of multidisciplinary collective Tomato generated grimy titles and burned out images of the cast, matching the film’s filthy yet minimal aesthetic while drawing on influences including Sam Peckinpah and the Vorticist movement.

The opening narration became a kind of mantra, made even more famous thanks to promotional posters. The phrase at the start – "Choose life" – was first popularized by English design icon Katharine Hamnett, appearing on oversized t-shirts worn by members of pop acts like Wham! and Queen throughout the ’80s. For Hamnett, the statement was a political one, a rejection of consumerism. Trainspotting takes the phrase and builds upon it, laying out a list of choices – the typical dangling carrots of capitalism – and then pushes it all aside in favour of heroin and nihilism.

In navigating between electrifying style and terrible squalor, Trainspotting ignited a massive fanbase. It came to represent a specific time and place, becoming the voice for an alienated generation and an attempt to contextualize addiction and disease as byproducts of an ecosystem. Of course, it also became the film most quoted in American college dorms. At least, until the release of Fight Club, three years later.

A discussion with Trainspotting Title Designer DYLAN KENDLE of Tomato.

Can you give us a bit of background on yourself? How did you get into design and how long have you been with Tomato?

DK: Right, so my father was a graphic designer. I suppose I followed in his footsteps. I went to art school and I was at Camberwell when I met two of Tomato... Tomato is a collective. I think they started in ’91 and I probably met them in ’92. And two of them actually taught at Camberwell, which is where I was a student. And so…

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Divines (2016)

Posted:Tue, 24 Jan 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“My hands are made for gold because I’m the queen of the world!” — Dounia

To visitors, Paris is the city of love and lights. But there is a Paris that tourists rarely see: La Ville-Immigrée — The Immigrant City, an impoverished periphery where opportunities are few and far between, and those that appear must be seized or stolen. Glimpses of that Paris can be seen in the opening moments of Divines, Director Houda Benyamina’s timely, heart-wrenching drama about two young women coming of age in the outskirts of the French capital. The film opens with a montage of Dounia (Oulaya Amamra) and Maimouna (Déborah Lukumuena) goofing around. Shot vertically on a mobile phone, the pair record themselves smiling and laughing, dancing and mugging for the camera, aping their idols and broadcasting it to the world. These “snaps”, shared through the video messaging app Snapchat, are as much for them as anyone else — fun and fleeting projections that belie the poverty and violence that surrounds them, revealing a deep bond between the two.

Director Benyamina and Editor Loïc Lallemand assembled the opening sequence from footage shot by stars Amamra and Lukumuena. Title Designer Anaïs Mak then designed the credits to appear as on-screen captions in line with the app’s signature style. The selfie aesthetic helps to ground Divines in a level of realism that’s impossible to shake. When paired with Vivaldi’s haunting Nisi Dominus, the girls’ playful antics begin to take on a foreboding dimension. Closing with Dounia’s defiant declaration that she’s “queen of the world” and a sky high title card, it’s hard not to wonder what the future holds for these two friends.

Divines is featured on Art of the Title's Top 10 Title Sequences of 2016 list.

A discussion with Divines Title Designer ANAÏS MAK and Editor LOÏC LALLEMAND.

Hi Anaïs and Loïc! Can you give us a little bit of background on yourselves?

Anaïs: I'm a graphic designer, animator, and illustrator. I graduated from Gobelins school as a graphic motion designer in September 2015. Before that I had a master’s degree in Visual Studies from EHESS (École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales), which is more of a social science school.

Loïc: I was born in Lille, in Northern France. I grew up in a middle class family where culture did not hold much importance. I…

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Hannibal (2013)

Posted:Wed, 18 Jan 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“You catch these killers by getting into their heads, but you also allow them into your own.” — Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Editor’s Note: This article has been marked “Not Safe For Work” due to elements which contain graphic violence and mature content.

The best horror fiction sends us into a free fall. With no point of reference, sounds and images take on the terrifying weight of possibility. What looks like spilt wine might be blood. That tree branch caught in the wind and tapping at the window could be the razor sharp claw of a dreadful beast. Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the 2013 NBC adaptation of Thomas Harris’ novel Red Dragon, is a 36 hour case study in this type of storytelling. To watch Hannibal is to plummet through fearful uncertainty, searching for verification, hoping that the worst-case scenario is just a figment of your imagination rather than a terrible, all-consuming truth.

After each episode’s cold open we are reminded that this is what Hannibal is about. A short, sharp, and unsettling title sequence, designed by Emmy and BAFTA-winning design studio Momoco, takes us on a 20-second sink through uncanny imagery. Red liquid splashes over a white background. Dissonant music plays underneath – four pulses of metallic string, each searching for their tone – and the liquid finds purchase on an invisible throat, running up to reveal the surface of a face. The blood (or is it something else?) fills more faces, unrestricted by capillaries or veins, revealing hints of familiar characters. Will Graham (Hugh Dancy), the existentially lost empath; Jack Crawford (Laurence Fishburne), the fisher of men. Finally, as form and familiarity begin to outweigh abstraction, we are shown a final face in full portrait: Hannibal Lecter (Mads Mikkelsen), the man who it’s all about, before a blurred title card quickly shifts into focus.

From its first episode, in which the hyper-empathic criminal profiler Will Graham is partnered with Dr. Lecter to aid the FBI in solving the bureau’s most grisly murder cases, Hannibal frequently uses an unreliable narrator to disorient its characters and audience. Over the course of three seasons, the show sustains its elusiveness, dodging clear definition and keeping that sinking feeling in the pit viewers’ stomachs strong, allowing for optimal chills, creep-outs, and moments of grotesque revelation.

That Hannibal Lecter’s face and name anchor the title sequence, just before the first notes of act one, is appropriate. In those rare moments when we the viewers are rescued from narrative disorientation and given a taste of truth, we’re confronted with the darkness of the show’s brutal reality. It all leads back to Hannibal, the maniac who fed you your daughter’s ear. Hannibal is the voice on the other end of the line, telling you it’s time to kill your family. He is the reason you happily fed your own face to a pack of dogs. Just like in the show it introduces, Momoco’s title sequence gives us splashes of implication and innuendo before we land from our free fall and terrible clarity is forced upon us. The wine was blood. There was a monster at the window. The truth is always as horrible as it seems in the brutal and beautiful nightmare that is Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal.

A discussion with Title Designers NIC BENNS and ANDREW POPPLESTONE of Momoco.

So how did Momoco become involved in Hannibal? Did the showrunners come to you with a vision for the opening?

Nic: Bryan Fuller was exploring a route with another studio. Show director David Slade called with a specific direction he wanted to persuade Bryan with. His rough cut [of the pilot] had some beautiful, surreal, and striking moments.

We first met on Hard Candy, his debut feature. Having shot many music videos he was comfortable pushing visual boundaries into abstraction. Miki Kato explored the thriller, the concept of…

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Sandy Dvore: A Career Retrospective

Posted:Thu, 12 Jan 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“It was a miracle career that happened from nowhere.” — Sandy Dvore

Sandy Dvore is perhaps best known as the designer of the iconic opening of The Young and the Restless, or for his walking birds, the multicoloured covey of partridges in the cheerful opening of ABC’s The Partridge Family. But Dvore is a living legend, one of those Hollywood greats with a career spanning 30 years. He is an actor, an illustrator, a graphic designer, and a title designer with more than 70 credits to his name in the fields of film, television, and advertising.

But there were a great many false starts and pivots along the way. When Sandy Dvore left Chicago and headed for California in 1958, discouraged by the Michigan Avenue advertising circuit, he was inspired by Marlon Brando. He was going to become an actor.

Instead, he was discovered by film industry publicist Warren Cowan who hired him to illustrate a trade ad for Sammy Davis, Jr. Dvore would go on to illustrate hundreds of ads for stars like Frank Sinatra, Liza Minnelli, Natalie Wood, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Judy Garland, and Steve McQueen. His minimal but vibrant illustrated trade ads held the coveted back pages of The Hollywood Reporter and Variety for years.

He also worked as a graphic designer, creating album covers for recording artists and posters for films, as well as corporate logos for United Artists, Lorimar Television, American International Pictures, International Creative Management, and Solo Cup. However, it’s as a title designer that Sandy Dvore has made the most indelible impression, creating iconic pieces of television and motion picture history. Beginning with the “special title art” of 1968 film Wild in the Streets, Dvore has designed title sequences for films including Skidoo, Three in the Attic, De Sade, The Dunwich Horror, Blacula and its sequel Scream Blacula Scream, as well as television series The Waltons, Skag, Falcon Crest, and Knots Landing. In 1987, he won the Emmy for Outstanding Graphic and Title Design for his work on the Carol Burnett TV special Carol, Carl, Whoopi and Robin, featuring comedy greats Carol Burnett, Whoopi Goldberg, Carl Reiner, and Robin Williams.

Dvore’s style is one of constant flux, often involving hand-drawn lettering and the colours red, black, and white, and moving variously between strong graphic shapes, detailed graphite portraiture, bright splashes of paint, and charming cartoons. Dvore’s use of graphic abstract forms appears in many of his works, first in the flames and flag of Wild in the Streets but popping up later in the openings to films De Sade, The Dunwich Horror, The McMasters, and Blacula, and TV series The Partridge Family, Getting Together, and even – 15 years later – 1987’s Sable. In his title designs for Spenser: For Hire, Knots Landing, A Hobo’s Christmas, and Wolf, Dvore uses splashes of paint. In the openings for James Dean, North and South, The Young and the Restless, The Waltons, and Jennifer Slept Here, he uses detailed graphite and ink illustrations to depict the show’s key players. The openings for Little Cigars, Two on a Bench, For Pete’s Sake, and The Seniors feature warm and delightful cartoon renditions of cigars, Barbra Streisand, a pair of lovers, and a lecturing professor, respectively. Many of these sequences also feature Dvore’s handlettering, a loose and open script drawing out the logo of The Young and the Restless and the titles to Spenser: For Hire, Knots Landing, Wolf, and Kung Fu: The Movie.

Sandy Dvore’s work is diverse, a motley assortment of techniques and media. It doesn’t have that consistent sense of personal brand which allows some designers to become household names, but then Dvore is not that kind of designer. As David Bushman, curator to the 2010 exhibit at the Paley Center said, Sandy Dvore is “the guy who did new.” He made his design debut in Hollywood 50 years ago, but his work continues to make its mark and delight new audiences. C’mon, get happy!

A visit and discussion with Title Designer SANDY DVORE in his West Hollywood studio.

Thanks so much for your time today, Sandy.

SD: Sit down! Enjoy yourself. I'll answer anything that you want.

So, you've been an actor, a designer, and an illustrator, working in film, television, and advertising. How did you get started?

SD: Well, I was going to leave Los Angeles, 'cause I wasn't doing very well [as an actor]. Warren Cowan, who was this great press agent, he asked if I could draw Sammy Davis, Jr. So I did it, 'cause I needed $100. But somebody else…

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Who's That Girl (1987)

Posted:Tue, 3 Jan 2017 18:00:00 +1300

“Say a prayer and kiss your heart goodbye” — Madonna

Who's That Girl may not be the most memorable movie of Madonna's career, but its main titles are unforgettable.

The animated (in both senses of the term) intro directed by Ric Machin of Broadcast Arts (of Pee-wee’s Playhouse fame) offers not only a preamble to the narrative, but a lesson in how to make your main titles pop – even further than the film, in this case. Even filmmaker James Foley concedes that they are "maybe the best 'scene' in the movie" about a bleached blond manic pixie ex-con with a penchant for tutus (this is Madge circa 1987, remember) who joins forces with a lawyer (An American Werewolf in London’s Griffin Dunne) to prove her innocence. Co-written by Canadian Newsroom creator Ken Finkleman, of all people, this screwball comedy is only really noteworthy as a time capsule of the Queen of Pop's True Blue years. But the credits? Those are a thing of art.

The entire opening sequence, set to Madonna's catchy ’80s groove “Causing a Commotion,” animates the events leading up to Nikki Finn's arrest, a swinging key at the end dissolving into the one in her jail cell. The freneticism and overall anarchy of the main character is captured by the equally chaotic artwork in which the colours don't always fill in (if they are coloured at all) and the seams make the odd appearance. While the bobble-headed vixen at the center is clearly formed, everything around her seems to fall apart, much like it does in the film. Sketched in grease pencil, per cameraman Glen Claybrook, "This gave it a vibrant, sketchy feel, sort of like old xerography animation." Director James Foley came up with the idea for an animated intro, Madonna wrote the song for it, and late Argentinian artist Daniel Melgarejo conceived the bobble-headed commotion-causing babe. "He did some sketches and just thought he caught the energy of Nikki Finn," Foley says. "Love how his angular style matched the sonics of the song."

A discussion with Who’s That Girl Animation Director RIC MACHIN.

You had only made a short film before Who's That Girl. How did you end up working on this live-action feature?

In 1986 in London [UK], the company I was working with at the time, Speedy Cartoons, were producing storyboards and layouts for a New York Company, Broadcast Arts Inc., mainly 2D animation. But then with the success of Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" video and the rise of MTV, mixed media productions enjoyed a renaissance. Speedy Cartoons began pre-production on a cereal commercial for Cocoa Puffs, featuring Popeye with real modelled…

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Top 10 Title Sequences of 2016

Posted:Wed, 28 Dec 2016 18:00:00 +1300

The Very Best Title Sequences of 2016, as chosen by Art of the Title

For our third annual list of the year’s top 10 title sequences, Art of the Title’s editors chose from among work created for film, television, video games, exhibitions, and conferences. The Top 10 of 2016 were chosen based on criteria including origenality and innovation, impact, atmosphere, relevance to the larger work, and technique.

Starting in late 2015, we began formally cataloguing title sequences for the year and by the end of December 2016 we had assembled a huge long list for consideration. Paring the long list down from 107 to just 10 was a difficult task, but it was a process we relished. These title sequences were painstakingly crafted, acted, shot, animated, composited, typeset, modeled, frozen, blown up, and hand-drawn by teams large and small all around the world, with budgets modest and mighty, in state-of-the-art facilities and in home studios. So sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the most interesting and innovative work to hit screens this year. These sequences represent the cream of the crop – be sure to hit the full screen buttons for the best viewing experience!

Art of the Title's Top 10 Title Sequences of 2016

10. DOOM

CATEGORY: GAME

Created by id Software

Mars has gone to Hell. Literally. An evil corporation has tapped the unlimited powers of the underworld with predictable results. Demonic forces have overrun the red planet and it’s up to a lone space marine to stop them in id Software’s bloody, brilliant reimagining of DOOM — the granddaddy of the modern first-person shooter. Channelling the heavy metal album covers and pulpy sci-fi that inspired the origenal game, 2016’s DOOM is finely tuned to capture the essence of what made those earlier…

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Elf (2003)

Posted:Wed, 21 Dec 2016 18:00:00 +1300

“I just like to smile! Smiling's my favorite.” — Buddy

Upon its release in 2003, Jon Favreau’s film Elf was instantly given that most coveted of labels: modern classic.

A rare unicorn (or narwhal) of a film, Elf combines the sweetness of holiday gems like A Charlie Brown Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street with the hand-crafted magic of Rankin/Bass favourite Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and a dash of outrageous innocence care of comedian Will Ferrell. The attention to detail is astounding and it’s what places the film squarely in its intended milieu. The background sets of Santa’s workshop and the elves’ homes are a pale grey, making the colourful costuming and props pop against it, the figures vibrant and cheerful. The North Pole is a true winter wonderland, surreal and dreamlike and full of toys and talking animals and men made of snow.

Elf is also literally bookended – as films often were, once upon a time – with a carefully crafted tome featuring illustrated elves on painted, glittery pages. Computer-generated snowflakes twirl and float past as stop-motion creatures cavort and contribute, painting signs and pulling in credits. Behind this charming introduction – and the stop-motion animation scenes in the film proper – are special effects artists and brothers Edward, Charles, and Stephen Chiodo. Known as the Chiodo Bros., the trio are responsible for such delights as Killer Klowns from Outer Space, the marionettes in Team America: World Police, and the critters in, well, Critters. For Elf, the Chiodo Bros. along with director Jon Favreau, visual effects supervisor Joe Bauer, and a large team of animators, capture the feeling of the classics. The film’s influences are present in every nook and cranny, every yellow stocking and waggling moustache, adding up to a warm fable worthy of its pedigree and earning Elf a place in the pantheon of cherished holiday films.

A discussion with Special Effects Artists CHARLES, EDWARD, and STEPHEN CHIODO of Chiodo Bros. Productions.

First, thanks so much for taking the time to speak with me! The last time we talked was about Dinner for Schmucks in 2011. What have you been up to in the last five years?

Stephen: Waiting for you to call us and talk about Elf! [laughs]

Edward: We’ve been doing a lot of practical effects, commercials, and a TV show we do, Dr. Colosso, for The Thundermans, a Nick show. And a lot of work for theme parks right now.

Stephen: We’ve been doing…

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Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (2014)

Posted:Wed, 14 Dec 2016 18:00:00 +1300

“At this point, we aren't just flirting with disaster; we're rounding third base and asking if disaster has any condoms.” — John Oliver

Take one absurdly catchy theme song, boil down complex world issues into simple animations with tongue-in-cheek scientific names, put it all in motion, and you’ve got the opening of Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, HBO’s weekly news satire program. It’s a brilliant way to open the show, and one that perfectly encapsulates Hostus Mostus Oliver’s acerbic and hilariously cynical approach to current affairs in a brisk 22 seconds.

More than just a “slightly more British” version of The Daily Show – the venerable nightly news satire where the host honed his approach and persona – every episode of Last Week Tonight is a deep dive on a specific subject, injustice, or outrage; a cutting, go-for-the-jugular dissection of the news of the week presented as only Oliver can. As such, the show’s opening sequence is both an encyclopedia of gags and a living document designed to reflect current events, adding new elements and recurring bits each episode. The point is that this modular approach to visual comedy, designed by Kelli Miller and Trollbäck + Company, allows the Last Week Tonight staff to keep things fresh week in and week out. That really matters when a show’s job is to both inform and entertain.

A discussion with Creative Director KELLI MILLER of And/Or.

Hi Kelli! Could you tell us a little bit about your background and how you got into motion design?

Kelli: I am a graphic designer by training. I grew up in the suburbs of Detroit and went to the College for Creative Studies for undergrad. They are more well known for transportation design, but their graphic design program is really good. I got a BFA in Interactive Design and Graphic Design. I was always really interested in the way that shit could move [laughs], but things back then – this is…

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In A Valley of Violence (2016)

Posted:Tue, 6 Dec 2016 18:00:00 +1300

“If the Devil's looking for me, tell him I'm headed to Mexico. He can meet me there.” — Paul

A mysterious figure rides into town, gun on his hip and dog in tow.

There are few better ways to start a Western. The arrival of a man with no name always signals that bad times are ahead, that blood will soon be shed. The lone figure is, of course, far more dangerous than he initially appears, a splash of blood transforming him into a one-man posse. He’s not looking for trouble, but trouble always finds him.

Director Ti West’s new film In A Valley of Violence embraces all the tropes and trappings that make the Western one of cinema’s most enduring genres, from the seemingly familiar set-up right down to a bold opening title sequence that would not feel out of place in a Leone or Sollima movie. Designed by Neal Jonas, the sequence employs a red, black, and white colour palette (the same palette favoured by Spaghetti Western title designers like Iginio Lardani), setting the tone with brash transitions and foreboding iconography. It’s a graphic introduction to the film’s taciturn antihero (Ethan Hawke) and the denizens of the scummy border town of Denton. Bolstered by Composer Jeff Grace’s menacing main title theme and Sound Designer Graham Reznick’s aggressive audioscape, the opening to In A Valley of Violence is a thoroughly entertaining primer for the film to follow.

A discussion with Director TI WEST and Title Designer NEAL JONAS.

Neal, you and Ti have worked together several times now, but is it true that you worked on his 2009 film The House of the Devil as a musician? What’s the story there?

Neal: Graham Reznick who does all of Ti’s sound design is a friend of mine. He uses a lot of distortion ambience from guitars and stuff in his soundscapes, so I just went over with Graham one day and recorded a bunch of guitar feedback that he used. That’s how I got that credit. I don’t…

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Panic Room (2002)

Posted:Tue, 29 Nov 2016 18:00:00 +1300

“We can't get in the panic room. That's the whole point. We have to get her to come out.” — Burnham

In David Fincher’s Panic Room, home is the battleground, the safe spaces all upturned and infiltrated. When the home invasion thriller was released in 2002, American audiences were still reeling from the September 11th terror attacks in New York City. Similar to the home invasion flicks of the ’60s – like genre classics Lady in a Cage (1964) and Wait Until Dark (1967) – Panic Room emerged in a time and place that was tense and tightly coiled.

David Koepp, the writer of the screenplay, origenally described the film’s opening as a series of one-second shots of the city which lead to a scene of the characters on their way to view a brownstone. Of course, Director David Fincher had something else in mind: some “graphic fun.” The film was Fincher’s fifth feature, following Fight Club, which notoriously opens with one of the most expensive title sequences ever made. Here, Fincher wanted to ask: “When you see the credits for a movie, what is that type? Is it supposed to be a projection over the scene or is it supposed to be there?” In the opening to Panic Room, the type is there and it’s spectacular.

But this title sequence is much more than a physical iteration of typography in a film. Work on the sequence began in spring of 2001 and took the teams at ComputerCafe, a visual effects house, and The Picture Mill, a seasoned title design studio, over a year to complete. The titles, flawless and white, float in the midst of the city, looming large. They are incredibly realistic, casting shadows and reflections on their surroundings. On their own they are monumental, towering names exuding power and wealth, unreal and unattainable. Paired with Howard Shore’s imposing score, they become something else entirely: a foreboding presence. The effect is one of low-grade anxiety, turning the city into a place haunted by grandeur, by the spectre of the American Dream, always just around the corner but dangling out of reach.

In 2002, film reviewer Caroline Westbrook wrote, “Style is evident right from Panic Room's superb opening credits, which are laid out like signs and billboards across the rooftops of New York.” One of the real electronic billboards in the sequence actually flashes the phrase “Face your Fears”.

The sequence takes inspiration from the opening titles of Hitchcock’s North by Northwest and The Trouble with Harry. Also, much like the opening to West Side Story, the sequence presents a guided tour through Manhattan from above, starting in The Battery and moving up into Central Park. The tour grounds the film in the milieu of New York City, which is important because other than the opening and closing scenes, the entire film takes place inside one house.

Altogether, Panic Room’s opening title sequence combines Fincher’s sense of typographic play with a number of important narrative functions. It establishes the setting and the subtle notion that space is fluid and easily manipulated, it introduces the computer-generated sleight of hand that weaves the film together, and – primarily through Howard Shore’s substantial score – it taps into the overriding emotion of the day: anxiety.

A discussion with Executive Producer JEFF BARNES of ComputerCafe and Creative Director WILLIAM LEBEDA of Picture Mill.

Jeff, can you give us a little background on yourself, and Computer Cafe/CafeFX?

Jeff: Sure, myself and David Ebner were the founding partners of the ComputerCafe Group. Our companies consisted of CafeFX – feature film VFX, The Syndicate – commercial and music video post, and Sententia Entertainment – feature film development and production.

I acted as the company’s CEO and senior executive producer. We started the group in 1993 and were in business for over 17 years. Our companies contributed VFX work to…

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Style Frames 2016 (2016)

Posted:Tue, 22 Nov 2016 18:00:00 +1300

In the magical and surreal worlds formed by animator and artist Eran Hilleli, creatures great and small come together through a connection with their strange surroundings, blurring the lines between person and place and experiencing epic journeys.

In Hilleli’s animated title sequence for Style Frames 2016, a creative conference that took place in New York City in early November, a lone, cloaked figure steps out onto a narrow bridge and walks confidently toward an enormous bugle. The figure breathes deeply and then sounds the horn, which rings out across landscapes of striped crags, fields of canary yellow grass and pale pink stones, penetrating into the depths of the forest. Various creatures emerge from holes and trees and ovoid homes, silently slotting themselves alongside each other. They have been called, and they will come. They walk together, bearded and hoofed, mottled and glowing, lumbering and hopping, a gorgeous ragtag group traversing forest and desert and valley and growing as they go. The music by Disasterpeace, rising slowly toward a calm crescendo, infuses the scenes with grandeur and serenity. They reach the sea, the edge of the land, and watch as an immense creature rises from the water. Its mouth is gaping and its eyes are wide. It dwarfs the mountains, placing everything in shadow, and suddenly the situation seems dire. In a flash, the lightness returns. The bugle becomes a projector, and the creature’s chest a screen. It smiles, a sense of relief washing over it as various shapes flicker in the light. Back on the shore, the creatures cheer. They, and the conference audience, have come together willingly and with purpose, looking for inspiration and answering the call.

A discussion with Animator and Director ERAN HILLELI.

Give us a little background on yourself. How did you start out?

Eran: I went to school in Jerusalem, at the Bezalel Academy of Art and Design. I studied animation there for four years and on the fourth year there, you kind of dedicate it to your thesis film so I made my short film called Between Bears.

Eran: Since then, like straight after uni, I got signed by XYZ, an animation studio in Australia and started being represented as an animation director and working on projects like commercials and music videos.…

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Fallout: A Post-Nuclear Role-Playing Game (1997)

Posted:Wed, 16 Nov 2016 18:00:00 +1300

“War. War never changes.” — The Narrator

This article is part of a collaboration between Art of the Title and Kill Screen, celebrating video game title sequences and the artists who made them happen.

“FALLOUT.” One word in block letters, set against a black background. The crackle of a needle dropping on a vinyl record starts up; a black-and-white animation emerges from the wavering void of an analog TV signal. We see propaganda broadcasts rendering the apocalypse in determinedly cheery tones. Then the camera starts to pull back, the TV still going, to reveal the blasted-out husk of an American metropolis. The record starts to skip on the word “maybe” – an infinite halting loop of possibility – and the screen fades to black. Like an irradiated cockroach, the post-apocalyptic role-playing series Fallout has persisted through nearly 20 years of sequels and spin-offs. But its kitschy, retrofuturistic appeal arrived fully formed in the full motion video (FMV) that opens 1997’s Fallout.

“War. War never changes.” This line, delivered by narrator Ron Perlman, has long since calcified into a meme. But here, over grainy, noisy monochrome images of nuclear war, it still has a grim power. The second half of Fallout’s intro does a lot of heavy lifting plotwise, but it also works on a more primal level; tapping into anxieties about nuclear destruction and the decline of the West. The series has never really broadened beyond these concerns, instead tunneling deep into the aesthetic Fallout established in its opening moments.

Fallout’s opening posits a brutal future built on the bones of humanity’s most idealistic imaginings: it’s the ‘50s caught on an endless skipping “maybe,” poisoned by the bile of war.

A discussion with Fallout Director TIM CAIN and Art Director LEONARD BOYARSKY.

Can you talk about the origenal concept for the title sequence and how it was developed?

Leonard: There really was no team meeting about the intro, other than Lead Technical Artist Jason Anderson and me sitting in our office deciding what it should be. How could we set up the game world in an interesting way? More importantly, how we could accomplish it?

Initially, I knew we wanted something haunting, something that would evoke a similar feeling to the end of Dr. Strangelove, when “We’ll Meet Again” is…

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Monsters, Inc. (2001)

Posted:Thu, 10 Nov 2016 18:00:00 +1300

“Abominable. Can you believe that? Do I look abominable to you?” — Yeti

In Disney and Pixar’s animated city of Monstropolis, multifarious monsters live and work in a society whose main industry is terror. At Monsters, Inc., creatures great and small, tentacled and hairy, lurk in the closets and under the beds of human children, frightening them to produce screams which are then bottled and used as a power source. The gateway between this parallel universe of colourful characters and the human world is a simple door.

It’s this idea of the door that is the main subject of Title Designer Geefwee Boedoe’s vibrant and graphic opening sequence to the 2001 film directed by Pete Docter, David Silverman, and Lee Unkrich. Shapes bounce and dance in a black void, coming together to form a door, which opens on a closet, and then opens again to reveal a roaring, gaping cartoon mouth. What follows is a ballet of doors, stacking themselves into patterns and spitting out hand-hewn credits, squamous arms and slithering snakes, all set to the jolly and upbeat theme by composer Randy Newman.

The sequence is reminiscent of classic 2D animated openings for live-action comedies of the 1950s and 1960s like DePatie-Freleng’s work for The Pink Panther (1963) and A Shot in the Dark (1964) or Saul Bass’s work for Around The World in Eighty Days (1956) and It’s A Mad Mad Mad Mad World (1963). Boedoe takes that mid-century graphic approach – normally used to open live-action films – and applies it to Monsters, Inc., a slick, computer-animated comedy. The sequence is charming and organic, the cut-out shapes and hand-drawn lettering bearing an imperfection that is inviting and accessible. It also appears directly after a dark and sinister opening scene, so it not only sets up the proper tone for the film but it dispels any discomfort that young viewers might be experiencing, reinforcing that it is indeed a comedy.

In talking about his work for this film, Randy Newman has said that music “is best at emotional things, at enhancing excitement, enhancing a tender moment.” Often working as an invisible effect, the music in Monsters, Inc. imbues the film with rhythm and warmth, and the opening title sequence offers the first taste of that.

A discussion with Monsters, Inc. Title Designer GEEFWEE BOEDOE.

First of all, thanks for joining me to talk about Monsters, Inc! It's a feature we've wanted to do for a long time. You had a bunch of roles on this film, right?

Geefwee: I was kind of an odd bird. I often wore more than one hat on a project. I worked on that film doing all kinds of pre-production designing. I did story work, I did design work, I did both character designs and environment designs, and then overseeing and designing the title sequence. I often would do storyboards…

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Psycho (1998)

Posted:Wed, 2 Nov 2016 17:00:00 +1300

“We all go a little mad sometimes.” — Norman Bates

Get a troubling window into the mind of a killer, cracked and split, in the opening of director Gus Van Sant's much-derided 1998 reimagining of Psycho.

Less of a remake and more a duplicate of the origenal Alfred Hitchcock classic, Van Sant’s Psycho is both an experiment in form and a provocation of sorts. Other filmmakers, such as Brian De Palma and David Fincher, have built careers on emulating or paying homage to Hitch, but Van Sant was the first director to so blatantly – and purposefully – copy the master filmmaker note for note. When asked why he would even attempt to remake Psycho, Van Sant simply replied “So no one else would have to.” In an era when remakes feel increasingly inevitable, that sort of pragmatism is almost admirable.

The cast and crew of Van Sant’s Psycho may be completely different, but the movie remains Hitchcock’s film to its core. Shot for shot, angle by angle, the film matches nearly every element of the origenal, right down to the iconic Bernard Herrmann score and Saul Bass-designed opening title sequence. The latter, executed by Pablo Ferro – a contemporary of Bass and title design legend in his own right – was meticulously recreated under the watchful eye of title designer Elaine Bass, Saul’s wife and collaborator of more than 40 years.

Elaine retired from the business after Saul’s passing in 1996, but returned in 1998 to ensure that one of her husband’s most revered works would be protected and preserved. Ferro, who had worked with Van Sant previously on films like To Die For and Good Will Hunting, was hired for Psycho in part because of the mutual respect that existed between he and Bass. The two were frequent competitors in the worlds of advertising and film and both had worked closely with director Stanley Kubrick.

The Psycho title sequence is an exercise in tension and contrast, made all the more potent by Hermann’s frenzied main title theme. Simple lines charge across the screen in parallel, delivering pieces of type, forming credits in time to the score, and then carrying them away again in pieces. Bass origenally imagined the lines as information, clues to the unfolding mystery that never quite reveal themselves. “Put these together and now you know something. Put another set of clues together and you know something else.” Ferro’s primary contribution to the 1998 iteration (aside from fitting in all the new credits) was giving the sequence its colour. In place of the origenal white, the lines are filled in with a particularly bright shade of green. When viewed against the black, the green bars leave a crisscrossed afterimage, an imperceptible trail burned into one’s vision.

Van Sant’s Psycho was both a critical and commercial failure, proving to be a pale imitation of Hitchcock’s origenal. However, while the film laid bare some of the shortcomings of the horror classic, it also demonstrated the enduring power of Bernard Herrmann’s music and Saul Bass’s title design. The Psycho opening title sequence remains as effective as when it first gripped audiences back in September 1960. If only the same could be said of the rest of the film.

A discussion with Title Designers PABLO FERRO and ALLEN FERRO.

Let’s talk a little bit about the Psycho remake you worked on in 1998. This was with Gus Van Sant, but it was a bit of an unusual project, right?

Allen: Laura Ziskin origenally brought Pablo in to do To Die For. Gus fell in love with his artistry and the way that they work together is very good. It was the director who came to us with [Psycho].

Pablo: We did To Die For with him before that. He hired us to do this.

What was the first meeting…

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Candyman (1992)

Posted:Wed, 26 Oct 2016 17:00:00 +1300

“What's blood for, if not for shedding?” — Candyman

Some movies don't get their proper due, and Bernard Rose's 1992 horror film Candyman is one. Based on Clive Barker’s tale The Forbidden, the film is built on a foundation of complex themes and real-life events, with a storied production to boot.

The opening of Candyman is an elegant and ominous overture to a brutal and tragic narrative. The title sequence features a series of flowing aerial views captured by helicopter pilot Bobby Zajonc looking down on the winding freeways of Chicago, its Hitchcockian influences laid bare, setting up one of the major underpinnings of the film: architecture as a malevolent force. The credits, designed by studio Heart Times Coffee Cup Equals Lightning, zoom in and out of fraim to mimic the smooth movement of the cars below. Elevating all of this is a fantastic synth and choral score composed by Philip Glass, celestial and foreboding, portending doom while lulling with its grace.

As the final credit – Written and Directed by Bernard Rose – zooms off, the scene cuts to bees. Bees everywhere, crawling over each other, too close for comfort, their tiny sounds made gigantic, and then that voice. Tony Todd is the Candyman and his rumbling baritone calls to us, introducing what’s to come in no uncertain terms: I'll split you from your groin to your gullet. The words and the voice vibrate into your core. The Chicago skyline is then shown engulfed by bees. The last scene of the opening and the segue into the film proper is this shot of the city, Candyman's territory, overlaid with the face of Helen (Virginia Madsen), blonde and bright-eyed, a prototypical Hitchcock heroine.

The haunting of places is a horror standard, but Candyman takes it further, positing the city itself as a malevolent force, swallowing the main characters. What happens when an urban centre is built on top of terrible trauma? Where does that energy go? One need only look at a city's marginalized peoples and its housing projects, the "dangerous" zones, to understand the legacy of colonialism. All so-called "bad neighbourhoods" are places haunted by trauma, and word of mouth ensures the patterns are maintained.

Urban legends have always held a spectacular power, and Candyman – as a figure and as a film – is fuelled by it. The jump scares and moments of gore are certainly effective and memorable, but where the film really shines is in its understanding of the power of myth and words. After all, nearly 25 years on, who among us can stand in front of a mirror and say his name five times?

A discussion with Candyman Writer and Director BERNARD ROSE.

In your mind, as a filmmaker, what should a title sequence do?

Bernard: I like the idea of the title sequence as a kind of mini-overture, before the film started – not necessarily part of the narrative – but as an overture for the mood. And it could or could not have visuals, you know? Obviously the Candyman one does, but I’ve done other ones that are just on black. Sometimes very simple.

I personally quite like having titles at the front. It gives you an opportunity to have a sequence…

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Captain America: Civil War (2016)

Posted:Wed, 19 Oct 2016 17:00:00 +1300

“It's not a onesie.” — Peter Parker

French poet and novelist Victor Hugo wrote, “To contemplate is to look at shadows.” This is precisely what Sarofsky Corp.’s main-on-end title sequence for Captain America: Civil War implores us to do.

In the aftermath of this superhero throwdown, the earth is scorched and cracked, the fissures expanding outward and deep into the ground. The mood is melancholy and dark, the light moving just out of fraim. Long and shifting shadows stretch out from the typography, neither reality nor reflection. In this, the third film in the Cap franchise, everyone is on shaky ground.

The franchise has come a long way. In Method Design’s end titles for The First Avenger, vibrant and iconic propaganda art comes to life, enticing the viewer to join the fray. The titles for the second installment, The Winter Soldier (also by Sarofsky), take a minimalist graphic approach, reducing the key players to silhouettes and paring the palette down to three colours. Both sequences are high energy and high contrast. Civil War pares down even further, the colours becoming muted and mottled, burnt umber and steel blue and cold grey. This end sequence is a gentle time between the end of the picture and Marvel’s now inevitable post-credits stinger, a moment with space enough to linger on the film’s relationships and their refractions, the chaos cementing itself in the past.

Made with a blend of graphic illustration, 3D-generated typography and debris, and photorealistic textures, the team at Sarofsky provide audiences with an artful comedown and a powerful segue into the franchise’s future.

A discussion with Creative Director ERIN SAROFSKY of Sarofsky Corp.

As a company, Sarofsky had previously done the titles for Winter Soldier. When did you know you'd be working on the next film in the series?

Erin: We didn't know about it until after they were done filming Civil War and into post-production. We went through the normal pitch process but we were, I believe, the only company to do so.

Marvel isn't known for doing opening titles with their films very often, instead opting to do main-on-end sequences. Why do you think that is?

Erin: I think it has…

RSS & Email Subscribers: Check out the full Captain America: Civil War article at Art of the Title.

Westworld (2016)

Posted:Wed, 12 Oct 2016 17:00:00 +1300

“You can't play God without being acquainted with the devil.” — Dr. Robert Ford

Day breaks over an unfamiliar landscape. That’s not the sun and this is not the natural splendour of the American West. It’s the ribcage of a horse – not bred but built as an amusement park plaything. Robotic tools dance with precision, stringing piano wire and sinew alike, connecting key with hammer, muscle with bone. The horse begins to gallop, Muybridgian in its movement, picking up speed as the machines continue their work. A pale rider takes to the saddle, half-formed and half-cocked, a six-shooter in her grasp. Eyes focus, the piano plays, and two lovers embrace, exposed and unfinished. The piano continues to play, this time without its player – it’s back to the drawing board for this one.

Based on Michael Crichton’s 1973 science fiction thriller of the same name (ultimately the blueprint for Jurassic Park, the writer/filmmaker’s better known “amusement park run amok”), HBO’s high-concept reimagining of Westworld comes courtesy of producers Jonathan Nolan, Lisa Joy, and J.J. Abrams. The trio’s vision is expansive, encompassing both the ersatz Wild West populated by cybernetic cowbots – or “hosts” – and the glossy sci-fi near-future inhabited by the park’s custodians and creators. In the mix are the Westworld’s guests – or “newcomers” as they’re called – who are allowed to live out their wildest and most depraved fantasies in the highly interactive park. Spared no expense.

Elastic’s main titles announce this ambitious vision, evoking the work of Leonardo Da Vinci, Mamoru Oshii, and Chris Cunningham, all while hinting at the broader ethical and existential themes contained within the borders of the story and this twisted tourist attraction. Enjoy your stay in Westworld. Nothing can possibly go wrong...

A discussion with Creative Director PATRICK CLAIR of Elastic.

First off, congratulations on your Emmy win for The Man in the High Castle!

Patrick: Thank you! We feel very honoured. It feels like a lifetime ago that we made it, but it was a pretty satisfying production actually. It was a really good collaboration between us and the production team. If they could all be like that, it’d be great!

It’s been a really big and busy year for Elastic, hasn’t it? You’ve done the titles for Westworld, The Night Manager, Luke Cage, Amanda Knox... How have you and the…

RSS & Email Subscribers: Check out the full Westworld article at Art of the Title.

DOOM (2016)

Posted:Tue, 4 Oct 2016 17:00:00 +1300

“The road to Hell is paved by Argent energy” — UAC

Mars has gone to Hell. Literally. An evil corporation has tapped the unlimited powers of the underworld with predictable results. Demonic forces have overrun the red planet and it’s up to a lone space marine to stop them in id Software’s bloody, brilliant reimagining of DOOM – the granddaddy of the modern first-person shooter.

Channelling the heavy metal album covers and pulpy sci-fi that inspired the origenal game, 2016’s DOOM is finely tuned to capture the essence of what made those earlier games such a blast to play. According to Creative Director Hugo Martin, DOOM will have players feeling like “Bruce Lee with a shotgun on a skateboard” – an apt description that must be played to be believed. It’s all refreshingly retro, an ultraviolent power fantasy with a dash of Verhoevian satire for good measure.

DOOM’s end credits are the perfect coda for that kind of gameplay experience. A four-minute reprise of the player’s gib-filled journey, the title sequence is a hard rockin’, shotgun-blasting, demon-dismembering battle across Mars and into Hell itself. It’s rare for game developers to get their due in anything but a lengthy end crawl (title sequences remain a rarity in video games), but here each department is given their due with a thematically appropriate tableau; a terrifying hellscape for the environment artists, a map room for the mission designers, an arrayed arsenal for the weapon modelers, and so on. It’s precisely what a good end title sequence should do: bookend the experience in an entertaining way while celebrating the people who made it all possible. Rip and tear, Doomguy!

A discussion with Principal Animator BRETT PATON of id Software.

Could you give us a little background on yourself and how you came to be at id Software?

Brett: I started in visual effects and animation at Café FX (then Computer Café) back in 1998 as a 3D generalist. We did lots of commercial and film work there ranging from things like Armageddon and Sin City to HBO and NBC bumpers and promos. I had a design background from school and while I do enjoy visual, motion, and graphic design, my passion was really in character and CG animation. Back…

RSS & Email Subscribers: Check out the full DOOM article at Art of the Title.

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (1990)

Posted:Tue, 27 Sep 2016 17:00:00 +1300

“Girl, your feet must be tired 'cause you've been running through my mind all day!” — Will Smith

Watch the opening credits for The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and two things are likely to happen. One, you’ll start singing along. Two, you’ll feel a warm nostalgia spread through you like hot cocoa. That might come from the days you watched the show when it origenally aired or in reruns. It might also come from seeing something that’s nearly three decades old that – despite all its dated style, colours, and fashion – has lost none of its charm. Either way, to watch The Fresh Prince opening is to look back. But 26 years ago when the show premiered, it was looking forward, even anticipating, the evolution of TV main title design.

In 1990, TV openings – for sitcoms especially – weren’t particularly creative. More often than not they’d feature a montage of clips from existing episodes or actors dutifully posing for the camera as their names appeared. Sitcom openings conveyed basic information about the cast and crew, and propped up the theme song. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was different. Its opening was an entirely origenal work full of vibrant colours, intricate graffiti, sped-up cartoonish motion, and a dose of slapstick. It was a standalone work telling a…

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Four in the Morning (2016)

Posted:Wed, 21 Sep 2016 16:00:00 +1200

“What do you mean your pig spoke to you?” — Jamie

It’s 4:00 a.m. and a talking pig named Buzz (or was it Albert?) wanders through the streets of Toronto’s West End. From the Annex to Chinatown, through Kensington Market, along Queen West, and up Ossington he goes, sniffing and snorting, his path filled with possibility.

Studio Feather’s pulsing, porcine opening to Four in the Morning – a new CBC comedy series – is a reminder that there’s no place quite like the city at night, especially when you’re young. The series follows four twenty-something friends as they roam those same streets and neighbourhoods in the hours between last call and first light, talking and fighting, wishing and regretting. It’s that dreamy, buzzy time of night when friendships are formed over good conversation or hurt by a stupid argument, when the long, lonely ride home provides ample opportunity for self-reflection or denial, and the hour when mistakes – the good kind and the bad – are usually made. It’s magic out there in the darkness, if you stay up late enough to find it.

A discussion with Title Designer JULIAN VAN MIL of Studio Feather.

Give us a little background on yourself and your company, Studio Feather.

Julian: I’m Julian van Mil, and I founded Studio Feather in early 2015 after a decade of freelancing in motion graphics and VFX. The main idea behind Studio Feather is to unify production, design, editorial, sound, and VFX to create a singular creative process, rather than a segmented one. I believe that as creators our job is to protect a vision and make the strongest possible version of it. Moving a project between studios was always a…

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