The Art of Opening Credits

In the world of modern television, opening credits have become an unexpectedly complex art form. No longer thrown together by the show's editors, many are outsourced to specialist companies who painstakingly piece together each and every image and effect, before sourcing/commissioning the perfect music to complement their beautifully crafted visual feast.

For a relatively small slip of time, the opening credits of a television show have become increasingly important; instead of merely listing actors' names and the program title, that initial space now attempts to communicate moods, themes, even clues to the seasonal (or series) narrative. It is, in the truest sense, an "introduction" to the program.

Many of today's opening credits are beautiful, hypnotic attempts to lure in and grab a hold of viewers on a kind of instinctive, even subconscious, level; an opportunity to preset the viewers' minds, creating the right kind of frame for the program they're about to experience.

In celebration, here are a dozen of my favorite opening credits currently on television (although loving the credits doesn't always make me a fan of the show). Only television shows still in production are included (to narrow the field).*

*Interestingly, shows on cable television generally have a larger budget and greater artistic freedom, so programs on those networks are more likely to make this list, but there are also programs on more traditional networks offering memorable opening sequences.

My response to these examples is also more emotional and instinctive than technical. I've tried to write my reaction as a viewer who's just sat down to relax, and engage.

In no particular order:

Outlander
Firstly, the music. Oh, the music. Such an incredibly appropriate selection. Also, the inference of magic, with all the light and shadow, suggestions of dawn and dusk. We never get to meet anyone's gaze, a very deliberate choice, but we see parts of people's bodies in motion. (Not to mention, guns, knives, historic costumes and props that place the story in a particular period.) Disjointed, but beautifully composed. Even in shadowy shots that hint at a certain uneasiness and the possibility of future violence, there is still light. Overall, a sensual, dreamy atmosphere prevails. 

True Detective
This opening sequence won a Creative Arts Emmy. I actually find it unexpectedly sleek, given the gritty style of the show itself; at first I thought it was almost too slick a pairing for the program, but despite that hint of disparate visualization, there's no denying a moody, minimalist atmosphere is successfully created. The projection and layering make the characters' bodies part of the location. It's almost like our heroes (antiheroes?) are embedded in the setting itself, and since you get that kind of dragged down feel from the narrative as well, it's a very clever presentation of certain themes.

True Blood
Some of my absolute favorite opening credits from recent years. (Show's finished, I know, but am making an exception!) Blunt, sexual, religious, violent, blood and more blood, death and decomposition. Swamps and heat and night and darkness... Utterly perfect for a vampire show set in the south. (Not to mention the choice of film stock.) This clip is a making-of featurette that follows the team behind the title sequence. I think focusing on themes rather than characters was key. Gritty, messy, and extreme, this visual injection is simultaneously seductive and distasteful.

Halt and Catch Fire
I like the red-to-pink-to-red here, as if the mood of the piece is in constant transition, opening credits flickering between passive and aggressive, i.e. threatening and non-threatening, which is the feel I get from the show; as if conversational scenes are prone to switching from chatty to confrontational, and back again. I like how the characters' profiles are literally consumed by shades of tech, as if computer science is obscuring my take on them, and I appreciate the movement forward, toward a goal. Quite simple, stylistically, but to me, thematically spot-on.

The 100
Season two of this show offers a revamped opening sequence. Not what I expected, but the visuals totally work contextually. The show is violent, and emotional, and doesn't back away from investigating shades of gray in the human psyche, but location also plays a very important part in the story, so mapping out the external journey of the characters in this dystopian environment is a solid choice. Obviously there are clues and references embedded here, but it feels like information is flooding you, reflecting the pace of the season. (And the slightly primal, slightly adrenalizing soundtrack is an apt fit.)

Penny Dreadful
A program that feeds on dark and dramatic texts, so cadavers and scorpions were kind of a given... But I like the angles/slant of this opening sequence; everything is leaning, and surrounded by darkness. Even the credits barely make it out of the shadows. White, yes, but not a bold presence onscreen, more struggling to be seen, even. Most of the characters are glancing away, and they all seem troubled. Everyone, and everything, is destined for imminent disaster. That's the feeling the audience can't shake (and the visual of the blood-filled tea cup certainly stays with you).

Game Of Thrones
The great thing about the opening sequence for this series is that it puts aside character intrigues and focuses on what fuels the entire narrative... The power to rule. After all, this is a game of thrones, and the beautifully crafted, unfolding three-dimensional "map" is an intricate reflection of the players in this gruesome, high stakes game. The aerial image is empowering for viewers, as we zoom in and out of various locations. What fans love the most, though, is the way the opening sequence changes each screening to reflect the content of the episode you're about to watch. So engaging.

The Leftovers
A stunning example of a beautifully communicated premise. You feel like you're inside a cathedral, looking up, seeing a fresco representation of the characters' suffering as loved ones are torn from them, into the light. The experience feels religious, but somehow blasphemous, and very tragic. The way it's filmed is also slightly disorienting; you feel like you're moving through the air with no real control, seeing other people's stories/suffering from uncomfortable angles. The camera also pans out rather than in, and there's a disconcerting fluidity/inference of depth to the artwork.

Teen Wolf
Aimed at a teen audience, this sequence employs motifs popular in supernatural cinema and television to create a dark celebration of youthful beauty, sensuality, and isolation, while highlighting a simmering potential for violence. Interestingly, it could be argued the male characters are more overtly sexualized than the female leads, which is against type. I also like the use of water/chalk/dirt (or oil?). Simple, but visually effective. Likewise, the understated, hurried music suits. The opening sequence differs a little each season, but each offering stays stylistically similar.

Banshee
I love the Banshee opening credits because in a field of blurry, low-lit offerings, the stark bluntness of this sequence stands out. (The way the letters alternate in size is also a nice touch.) Fans know the spinning lock combination during each season has a certain meaning (but no spoilers here, I promise). The photo evidence is clearly delineated, falling in and out of focus, some pieces degrading, some receiving more screen time than others. You know all the images are clues and pieces that you have to decipher, but it's going to take you time, and it feels a tad Memento... 

Intruders
It kind of surprises me how much I've enjoyed this show. The story just gets under your skin. The opening title captures the eeriness that makes this program addictive viewing, what with the flood of creepy, disconcerting symbolism. (I won't lie, I'm a sucker for a good close-up eye-shot, and that opening graphic is one of the best.) "An unhealthy metamorphosis" is the feel I take away from this viewing experience, and a focus on the fragility of life. My final impression? "We are grey and fragile, something unsettling is happening, and the storm is coming."

American Horror Story: Freak Show
Each season of this program has a different opening sequence to match the changing theme of the narrative, but this one is my favorite, because instead of being overtly scary, the stream of animated characters appears beautifully macabre more than anything else. (I get a bit of a Jan Svankmajer vibe.) The carnival freak show has long been a metaphor for society's fascination with the perceived grotesque, and this opening title feels like a twisted celebration of said legacy; the supposedly "deformed" become uniquely riveting, presenting as powerful and darkly enchanting entities.

The Chemistry Lottery

"Why do you always have to prove you're the Alpha male?"
"I don't have to prove anything love, I am the Alpha male!"

In Television Land, chemistry is a fickle thing. 

There are many sexy actors who smoulder (onscreen and off), but there's no guarantee personal charisma will automatically transform into great chemistry with another actor. Sometimes two actors just don't connect, no matter how lovingly they gaze at each other.

It's a weird phenomena that drives writers and EPs up the wall. Some production teams make the mistake of forcing a relationship because they feel mentally locked into a particular narrative, but truth is, chemistry-free pairings are bad for ratings.

(Side note: I consider this the difference between writing a tv show and a novel -  if the audience can't "see" any chemistry between an onscreen couple, let go of the storyline. Adapt, and follow the fireworks!)

The flipside of the no-chemistry coin is an actor with Universal Chemistry (capitals warranted). This is pretty interesting, and relatively rare. For those chasing a small screen career, having U.C. is like holding the elusive golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. 

To clarify, it's not about beauty (though that doesn't hurt), it's about an actor's ability to create the illusion of connection; to somehow make the audience see romantic potential between their character and whoever they happen to be sharing a scene with. Nobody knows how it's done, it's just an elusive element certain thespians "bring to the screen".

An actor who creates chemistry with almost any of their onscreen co-stars is the best gift a writing team can get. So many storylines that otherwise wouldn't be viable, are suddenly on the table. 

You can generally spot a U.C. actor by the diverse range of shipping videos they star in on youtube. (For those not in the know, "shipping" is the desire for two characters in a tv show to hook up.) 

A U.C. actor's character is usually "shipped" with everyone, from their onscreen best friend to the extra behind the coffee cart. They smile at someone, and suddenly the audience imagines a romance unfolding.

Here's half a dozen of the best examples of actors with Universal Chemistry currently on the small screen (and by best, I mean ones that have stuck in my mind):

Candice Accola, who plays Caroline in The Vampire Diaries

Caroline and Stefan, a long time coming.
(& no, that is NOT a pun.)

Followers of the show know Candice can sizzle with any co-star. From a bit part as the annoying small town mean girl, she quickly became a fan favourite, partly thanks to her universal chemistry.

Originally the character dated human footballer Matt, with fans wholeheartedly behind the sweet pairing. Then she formed a connection with werewolf Tyler, and audiences began to think this was a great idea instead. After Tyler, came Klaus, the oldest, most psychotic of vampires (a hated villain in the series), who suddenly seemed like boyfriend material.

Personally, I loved her with Klaus (the irredeemable bad boy thing), but now Caroline's spending a lot of (screen)time with... Stefan. Yes, the character whose soul mate love for Elana kickstarted the whole bloody show in the first place. And yet, Accola makes the idea feel believable, rather than a blasphemous 360 away from the show's premise.

Even the program's creators have admitted the actress creates chemistry left, right and centre, making Candice Accola the reigning queen of U.C. 

Here's one of her many touching onscreen moments with a co-star (or two):




Tyler Blackburn, who plays Caleb in Pretty Little Liars

Who knew computer hacking was such a saucy past time?

Tyler Blackburn's character was a committed boyfriend to Hannah on Pretty Little Liars, but any time he shares a screen with another actress, accidental sparks flare. His first few scenes on the show were actually with the character Emily. (I remember because I thought they seemed like a great potential couple, before recalling Emily's gay, and wondering how I could have forgotten that?)

The photo above is of Caleb and Spencer, a totally platonic afternoon of computer hacking that somehow became rife with sexual tension. Then there was a moment talking to Aria where even Aria's mum thought Caleb was her boyfriend. Oh, and the time the character bro-bonded with Tobey (ie getting their detective on), that had recappers suddenly envisioning Hannah's boyfriend and Spencer's boyfriend running off together...

Caleb even visited Hannah's mum in jail at one point, and managed to lace the emotional scene with unintended chemistry. (Seriously, how does this guy do it?!)

Blackburn's universal chemistry scored him his own spin-off show, Ravenswood (as set up in the scene below), but the premise sparked its own problems, and he's now back in the PLL's hood.




Alexander Skarsgard, who plays Eric in True Blood

Eric fantasies. A True Blood staple.

Firstly, the Skarsgard family are all such talents, it's no surprise Alexander's got the U.C. touch. Casting him as seductive vampire Eric was a stroke of genius. 

His character's scenes with Pam always sizzle in a weird way, while Eric's interactions with series lead Sooky are (of course) very seductive. Not forgetting the passive/aggressive sexual tension he brings to clashes with Bill. Even when sharing the screen with characters more than a little afraid of him (like Tara and Lafayette), there's still some sparkage. 

And do I really need to start listing male and female vamps who've smoked up the screen with Skarsgard's character? 

Because of the kind of show this is, the writers usually follow through and have Eric hook up with, let's face it, almost everyone (not really, but sometimes it feels like it!). Even Jason has erotic dreams about his sister's vampire ex.

In a way, Alexander Skarsgard's universal chemistry perfectly captures/channels the supernatural charisma of the character he's playing.




Ksenia Solo, who plays Kenzi in Lost Girl

Torn between two lovers?  Tango it out.
(That totally won't backfire.)

Ksenia Solo, aside from being a serious scene stealer on Lost Girl, also kind of messes with the relationships on the show the writers want you to "ship" by accidentally sizzling with almost everyone.

On a romantic level, the series revolves around bisexual character Bo, her male lover Dyson, and her female lover Lauren. Unfortunately, in an hallucination Bo imagines her straight friend Kenzi kissing Lauren, and fans noted the kiss had more chemistry than four years of the Lauren/Bo romance. (Oops.)

Last season everyone forgot Bo existed for a while (long story) and Dyson dated Kenzi for an episode. There was more sizzle between Kenzi and Dyson in those scenes than the whole Dyson/Bo relationship fans are supposed to "ship".

Basically, after a scene or two with anyone, Ksenia Solo makes the pairing seem like a perfect match. Her romantic relationships on the show, most notably with childhood crush Nate, and later with Hale, all had a true love vibe to them, thanks to the actor's U.C. powers.

(I chose this clip because, hey, it's kind of sweet.)



Eva Green, who plays Vanessa Ives in Penny Dreadful

Eva Green plays fragile and intense, just as
easily as she plays powerful and intense.
Frankly, her range is... intense.

Arguably, Eva Green as Vanessa uses sexual allure to manipulate the men in her sphere - it's how the character's written. What's notable is the way the actress can share just a gaze with a male character, and the audience is drawn into acknowledging the complex romantic possibilities present.

Vanessa began the series verbally sparring with the wounded and mysterious gunslinger Ethan Chandler, before flirting with the mysterious and erotically indulgent Dorian Gray. When she's with Sir Malcolm, it almost seems like shared history is enough to kickstart a complex romantic entanglement, while the way she understands Dr. Frankenstein's motivations highlights an odd potential there, too.

Eva Green has a fabulously intense onscreen presence, and when you throw universal chemistry in the mix, you have an actress who can make a character really come alive in the viewers' minds. (It's important to note she isn't a vapid love interest flung from one male character to the next - Vanessa's in control of each interaction.)

I went for a pretty safe sample here (since a lot of Penny Dreadful scenes are, let's face it, gore porn):



Nathan Fillion, who plays Richard Castle in Castle

Have we been married before?

Oh, Nathan Fillion. The undoubted King of Universal Chemistry (I know, there should be some kind of Game of Thrones pun here.)

What makes this man a master is how he channels the chemistry in any given scene - instead of seeing romantic potential, you're forced to envision the kind of emotional connection the writers/Nathan would prefer you to imagine. 

That's a handy talent.

Kudos, firstly, for the chemistry Fillion creates with Detective Beckett (possibly one of the dullest female characters on tv). Sparks with Beckett's best friend Laney are channelled into a harmless flirtation. Next up is the accidental chemistry with the actors who play his mother and daughter that he manages to keep familial, and the energy with the male cop characters that's determinedly held to a "buddy" vibe.

Fillion really is a consummate small screen performer.

Vamps... The Entertainment Trend That Just Won't Die.

Ah, vampires. I was pretty much a fan from the first time I saw the Count on Sesame Street. I don't think I'm impartial enough to critique the new Dracula television series; the moment Jonathan Rhys Meyers fanged out, I was in. 



I can't really say why I'm a sucker for a blood addict. I know there's a lot of psychological studies linking sexuality and vampirism, but even from a young age, I was primarily fascinated by the concept of time, and of such an impossible incarnation of loneliness; without the degenerative effects of old age, the years would be entirely too crisp, sharp, and unforgettable.

The idea of a person who experiences infinite time is probably the greatest, most fascinating tragedy I can imagine. Remember when a day, a week, even a month seemed eternal? The idea that the body doesn't age and time itself just keeps unfolding forever, is a concept that caught, and held, my imagination. I always thought the potential for isolation, and ennui, was immeasurable for the undead.

Then there's the whole thirst for blood conundrum. To my mind, it's utterly disempowering. The concept of endless life with such a vicious Achilles heel is beyond horrifying; a hunger that overrules judgement (according to the literature) could only lead to a guilty conscience, and/or eventual, eternal, insanity.

Now that's hardcore.

I know a lot of detractors criticise the physical allure of the modern vampire, but I've always been a fan of film and fiction that presents evil characters in truly beautiful physical guises. We have such a primal response to (our own concept of) beauty; we're instinctively drawn to those who possess it. Culturally we reward people for being beautiful, even when our intellect/morals/ethics may argue against such a response.

Making evil people or creatures ugly, in a way that has us flinching from the get go, is almost pathetically obvious. On the other hand, wrapping something potentially dangerous and evil in an aesthetically pleasing parcel adds a whole other layer to the story, because it's almost a perversion of our initial subconscious reading of/response to the individual. 

Making a vampire on television beautiful, so that we're attracted to the character while watching it brutalise people, is much more interesting, especially with the added twist of unwilling empathy. In any form of entertainment, mixed emotive responses are the key to engaging readers/viewers, and vampires offer that opportunity in spades...

I've now decided to wait until the end of the first season of the new series Dracula to really comment on the old guy's latest tv outing. So far I'd consider the program only partially successful, but that's due more to pacing and narrative structure, not to mention some confusing attempts to modernise the female characters in a PC way that should, theoretically, endear them to today's audience, but which fails dismally.

Instead, here's half a dozen television vampires I've enjoyed watching in the past.

What's interesting is tracking the "style" of vampire that appeals across recent decades on television, from the reclusive romantic, to the yuppie slash gangster, to the smooth talking sensual artist, and onto the current sexually aggressive incarnations. A mirror, if you will, into what appeals to the general psyche of the audience at a particular point in time...


Angel in Buffy and Angel

 
Angel was originally restricted in the sense that Buffy The Vampire Slayer began as a teen-based series, so his dialogue and interactions were "younger".

However, burdening the vampire character of Angel with a psychotic alter-ego Angelus was a stroke of scriptwriting genius. Especially since Angelus was the soulless version of Angel, so the beloved character couldn't be held responsible for the massacres he committed, yet carried the guilt whenever his soul returned to his body.

Transferred to a spin-off program, Angel also became hilariously funny, but it was the scenes with his (relatively) unattainable love Buffy in which the character excelled. By being sexually off-limits, Angel was more of a romantic, existentially-suffering interpretation of vampiredom.


Julian in Kindred The Embraced



This critically slammed Spelling production was actually very interesting in terms of television experimentation. I consider it one of the first attempts to tie American primetime soapie drama for the masses with sexy supernatural allure. I don't think mainstream audiences were quite ready yet, and the writers seemed slightly uncertain how to neatly tie together the macabre and the romantic in a way that wasn't alienating for those with more traditional television tastes, but there were some solid performances in the mix.

The vampire character of Julian is a super-slick businessman so he's more of a buff, Armani-wearing vampire who is savvy with the ways of the modern world. He's also the head of a council of vampires, so he's got a hint of gangster/underworld control to his persona. This is a version of a vampire that tries to tie in the elements of attractiveness found in a mainstream soapie character (ie money/power/worldly success) with more common undead characteristics.


Henry in Blood Ties


Sexual tension is the keystone of many a successful tv couple odd pairing, and Henry and Vicki were no exception. The lore here is that vampires are so territorial they can't stay long in the same place, meaning if Henry turns Vicki to keep her alive forever, he unfortunately won't be able to spend eternity with her. It's a clever conundrum that basically dooms any romance from the start, which makes the show work.

This version of the vampire enters into the Byronesque; artistic, sensual, self-absorbed, clever, jaded, but still in the vein of a nineties television vampire representation, in that he isn't sold as overtly violent; there's more the suggestion of potential aggression held under ruthless control.


Eric in True Blood


On a side note, I consider Sookie Stackhouse to be the dumbest character to ever grace a vampire-themed television show. "Naive" doesn't really translate well onto the small screen. Luckily for True Blood, the vamps in the mix are all pretty fascinating, more than compensating for the troubling series' lead.

This is a colder, more violent, and overtly sexual interpretation of the genre that appeals to today's appetites, and proved a small screen jackpot for the network. Eric and co. encapsulate an uncomfortable primal communion of violence and desire, a leap from the more intellectually-oriented small screen vampire heroes/anti-heroes of the past.


Damon in The Vampire Diaries


What's fascinating about The Vampire Diaries is that it's the meeting place for two modern variations of the television vampire, almost a sociological experiment showcasing changing audience tastes.

The teen-focused program that debuted in 2009 offers two vampire brothers:

-Stefan, similar to Angel/Angelus from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, who is tortured, determined to be good, ashamed of being one of the undead, etc. 

-His brother Damon, a more up-to-date version of mainstream vampire preferences, in that he's a complex sociopath who likes to kill and have sex. A lot...

Damon is undoubtedly the fan favourite O_O And I have to admit, Damon is my favourite too.

In the first few seasons his narrative is interesting, his character multi-faceted, unpredictable... and morally bankrupt. Eventually lost in his own complex mythology and slightly hamstrung by the act of falling in love (but that's a whole other blog for another day), there's no denying that from the first episode, Damon rules the roost.

Comparatively, when you look at Angel from Buffy and Damon from The Vampire Diaries, you see a drastic change in the type of vampire written to appeal to younger audiences.


Dracula/Vlad/Alexander Grayson in Dracula



I've admitted to friends before that I'd basically watch a McDonalds commercial on repeat if Jonathan Rhys Meyers was in it. He's charismatic, yes, but there's almost something twisted about his energy. He gives off a distant yet vulnerable vibe, and is aloof onscreen in a way that somehow simultaneously implies intimacy; basically, the kind of interesting emotional dichotomies great actors excel at projecting. 

 Note to traditionalists: if you're looking for viewing options that stay close to the source material, you might want to skip this incarnation. JRM's Dracula is in cahoots with Van Helsing!

This is a tragic interpretation, and a complex one, since JRM's character actually has three personas in the series. Basically, the network tries to capture elements of previously popular vampire incarnations and present them to the audience in one character mash-up. The blood-drunk lunatic, the tortured romantic, and the powerful, savvy businessman are all in the mix here. The question is whether the approach works.*

(*Will save a further breakdown on this version of Vlad for a Dracula-focused blog.)

Looking at the list above, there's a glaring omission... female vampires. Which I guess provides fodder for the theory there's a strong sexual element to the allure of the vampire, after all. 

(Although it's interesting to note that on the small screen, female vampires are generally offered to the audience in support roles, rather than as lead characters or main love interests.)

From Text To Textual

Ah, Trueblood. A guilty viewing pleasure for so many if us. The HBO vampire series may not be intellectually or artistically challenging, but by god, it's addictive.

There's not much you can say about vampires that hasn't been written already, so I'll skip right past the relatively lame suckers-as-a-sex-metaphor explanation. I will, instead, strive to scatter as many bad vampire puns as possible through the following text. (Sucks, I know).

A television series that has evolved from a popular book series is an interesting animal. After a lot of thought about the books and the show, comparing them both over the last year, I've come to the following conclusion.

I think of Trueblood, the written word, as the feminine interpretation (in a traditional sense). Trueblood, the television series, is its masculine counterpart.

Sookie: Shut the f*** up!

True Blood, Season 1, Episode 10.

Yes, two completely different animals. What's interesting is that both incarnations, despite sometimes feeling like polar opposites, are extremely successful with the public. More often than not, people are fans of both the books and the television series, which seems almost impossible when you compare the material.

To be clear, I read the books first. My concept of the characters evolved from the written word, whereas a lot of other people's initial exposure to the Bon Temp crew was via the small screen. Frankly, the tv crowd are a rougher lot.

Arlene: I'm sorry you fell in love with a serial killer, alright. But honestly, who here hasn't?

True Blood, Season 3, Episode 1.

For virgins of the Southern Vampire Mysteries, Charlaine Harris's books are ver-y different to the television incarnation. Sookie is a lot more old-fashioned, a lot more respectful, and in a way, very romantic. In the early days of the book series, the sex is a lot less graphic and not as intense a focus as it was from day one of the television show.

The most notable difference? Sookie and her friends and family are not white trash in the books. Possibly a little naive and sheltered, but very different to the television series, where everyone around Sookie seems to revel in being crass, trashy, and at least a tad skanky. (Not to mention the many moments I heard a friend refer to as 'redneck dense').

Jason: Never thought I was really smart enough to get depressed.

True Blood, Season 3, Episode 7.

Likewise, the violence and gore isn't celebrated in print as it is on tv. In the books, epic bloodletting is kind of distasteful, even awful, referenced more for the impact it has on the psyche of our heroine (and her subsequent life decisions), than for the dark thrill of it.

Frankly, our heroine seems to have lost a LOT of IQ points in her transition to the small screen. Sookie comes across as quite well-spoken and relatively intelligent in Harris's fictional efforts. Onscreen? Not so much.

Sookie: Did you just call me a dumb bitch?

True Blood, Season 3, Episode 8.

Label me a fangbanger, but I don't know what it is with vampires. However they're written, they seem to come up trumps! Bill and Eric are beloved in both the written word and on the screen. Even Pam, who I feel is a lot prettier and fresher in the books than on television, is popular in both versions. I guess you can't go wrong with a bloodsucker these days...

Jessica: Is it my fault my fangs come out when I'm turned on?

True Blood, Season 2, Episode 4.

Relatively minor characters in the novels, local lotharios Jason and Lafayette move to the fore on the small screen thanks to the sex 'n blood focus of the television series.

Andy: Conscience off, dick on, and everything's gonna be alright.

True Blood, Season 3, Episode 1.

I prefer Lafayette to Jason, partly because Nelsan Ellis is a brilliant actor (great in a one-episode appearance in Veronica Mars as a former Ugandan child soldier btw).

Lafayette: It aint possible to live unless you're crossing somebody's line.

True Blood, Season 1, Episode 7.

The least successful character transition to the small screen would probably be Tara. Not written to be a hundred percent likeable in the books, she performs an important narrative service in that she's someone from Sookie's childhood that Sookie can react against, and Sookie's opinion of Tara is often a measure of her changing life perspective throughout the series.

On tv, however, she has become incredibly annoying, and is the regular character complained about the most on blogs, reviews and fan forums.

Franklin: She's such a f***ing disaster, we could be twins.

True Blood Season 3, Episode 5.

I actually loved the television version of the vampire Godric. He was possibly the most interesting character transition, and killing him off so early was a real loss. He added a certain depth, with his vastly different perspective to all the other self-absorbed characters on the telly.

Godric: A human with me at the end, and human tears. Two thousand years, and I can still be surprised? In this, I see God.

True Blood, Season 2, Episode 8.

Finally- I was reading the latest novel in the series and for some reason it seemed... strange. It took me a while to realise the sense of displacement came from the fact the characters were beginning to act more like their television alter-egos, and less like their established Book Land personalities. I guess, with people coming into the written series as a result of enjoying the television series, the author was bound to bow a little to the crossover pressure.

Personally, I preferred them as notably separate entities, and appreciated the distinct flavours. (I should work in some kind of AB and AB negative blood type joke here, but it's not coming to me).

For anyone who's interested, on True Blood (tv) next season the witches come to town. Hey, the more the merrier, just as long as they don't try to smuggle a maenad into Bon Temp- after the Maryanne fiasco, those bitches are BANNED.

What Happened?

Why is it that after a fantastic first season, (once) favourite shows succumb to a second season slip, or a third season slide?

Watching the premiere season of a new show is similar to the first three months of dating someone. You're enamoured. Every experience is wonderful, every habit intriguing, every flaw an adorable quirk.

Suddenly, SNAP! The allure is gone. You can't help thinking, what the hell was all that about?

Scenes from the X-Files episode Anasazi pop into your head, the one where Mulder went loopy and it turned out someone was slipping hallucinogens into the water supply...!... Infatuation is kind of like that (minus the hallucinogens excuse).

"It's not you, it's me" is a standard, the gloss-is-gone, relationship line. When it comes to ditching television programs, a more accurate version would be "It's not me, it's them".

Television writers occasionally wander so far off-course, there should a scriptwriting version of search and rescue that can be called in to aid with narrative recovery.

To be fair, production company politics, network interference, staff changes to the writing team, too much creative input from someone further up the chain... there's a plethora of reasons television shows succumb to disastrous narrative direction. (Three words: Buffy Season Seven!).

Sadly, great shows inadvertently shoot themselves in the foot when they deliver a kick-ass premiere season. Having set the standard so high, audiences balk at (what they consider) mediocre follow-up seasons. In truth, badly received year two and three offerings of great shows are often equal in quality to other less lauded but popular television programs.

Here's half a dozen prime examples of recent hardcore sliders:

The Good Wife

In The Beginning... it surprised me that I liked a legal procedural so much. The show's premise relies on the audience empathising with the protagonist Alecia. Poor woman has to deal with the personal and professional fallout resulting from the public exposure of her husband's wicked ways (major summary). Also, the multi-facted mob at the law firm made for fascinating supporting characters.

Unfortunately, Later On... it all went haywire. By season two, the writers have inspired such a deep and irrational dislike of Alecia's troglodyte husband and children, it's no longer possible to empathise with her quandaries. Frankly, any episode that doesn't revolve around Alecia assuming a new identity and escaping to Mexico is a disappointment.

True Blood

In The Beginning... True Blood was a wild ride. Vamps merging with modern culture. A telepathic Southern barmaid named Sookie. So much fun! I'll concede the books are better, but enough of the supernatural core of the story survived the small screen transition to guarantee cult success.

Unfortunately, Later On... True Blood went seriously AWOL. The second year suffered at the hands of a terrible season arc, The Maenad Fiasco. (Now, whenever I catch a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode with Ensign Ro in it, I get flashes of Marianne. Bleh!). Rather than being written out, annoying character Tara was granted more storylines and a love interest named Eggs. Worst of all? They cut off Eric's hair.

Gossip Girl

In The Beginning... this glam soapie was so much fun, following the lives of a group of spoilt rich kids from Upper Manhattan (yes, I'm ignoring the Humphreys). Decadent teen lifestyles, fuelled by a parenting deficit, made for endless dramatic fodder. Gossip Girl was an instant guilty pleasure, wrapped in sumptuous high-end fashion.

Unfortunately, Later On... like many teen-oriented predecessors, the show stumbled during that treacherous high school to college transition. The characters remained as self-absorbed as ever, but some storylines floundered outside the secular confines of a high school setting. Don't get me wrong, GG's still fun, but the first and second season were by far the strongest. Luckily, the fashion remains hypnotic.

Parenthood

In The Beginning... this show bedazzled with a standout ensemble cast and a sassy, family-driven script. The return of Gilmore Girls' Lauren Graham was also a major plus in my book. I cared about the Bravermans when they first hit the small screen (I've even got a blog to prove it).

Unfortunately, Later On... this one wandered right off the map. Family dramas walk a fine line between being lovably outrageous/emotionally difficult, and plain aggravating. The Bravermans have now become so incredibly annoying, I flick to another network whenever they appear onscreen. Yes, they're the tv version of neighbours you try to hide from!

Glee

In The Beginning... this quirky little musical drama about a school teacher and his obsession with Glee club was heartwarming, funny, inspiring and sweet. The writing in the first season, upon occasion, was also quite witty. (Maybe someone should send the writers the first season dvd to rewatch? Screening party in the green room or something?).

Unfortunately, Later On... the creators began to repeatedly abuse the concept of a thematic tangent. As a friend pointed out to me, the tie-ins for theme episodes are generally lame and lazy. As for the writing, season two is often bizarre, heavy-handed, preachy, and even downright insulting at times.

Sons of Anarchy

In The Beginning... this show about a motorcycle gang was brilliant, and there's no denying S of A showcased some of the best casting I've seen on the small screen in a long while. The writing was thoughtful in terms of content, the episodes well structured. There's a reason everyone got so excited about this one.

Unfortunately, Later On... I hate to say it, but every now and again the third season of Sons of Anarchy gets a little... Aaron Spelling. You know, interpersonal 'drama, drama'. Don't get me wrong- there's still thoughtful storylines, but they seem occasionally buried under flashier narrative options. (Although I'll forgive Sons of Anarchy anything because Jax is SO PRETTY).

*In the interest of not coming across too narky, I would like to add an addendum. I still watch a number of these programs, and there are moments when they shine with their original gleam. Of course, too often that light is hidden under the accumulated grime of lazy and/or repetitive scripting, but there's always a chance they could return to their former glory, which is why I'm hanging in there...

...AND there's the (albeit) slim outside chance a program could up and Supernatural it, ie come straight out of left field and stride confidently toward a pinnacle of television writing, hitting us with seasons four and five that are so mindblowingly entertaining it makes wading through the mediocre years absolutely worth it!