Few television series have captured the cultural zeitgeist quite like HBO’s True Blood. While the show itself charted a tumultuous course over its seasons, one element remained consistently captivating: its opening title sequence, perfectly underscored by the haunting “Bad Things” by Jace Everett. More than just an introduction, this sequence serves as a potent visual and auditory overture, encapsulating the show’s core themes and setting a distinct Southern Gothic tone. Let’s delve into what makes this theme song and title sequence so unforgettable.
The creative force behind the sequence, Paul Matthaeus of Digital Kitchen, aimed to capture the “twin polarities” of the rural South. He articulated this vision as a juxtaposition between fervent religious expression and the raw indulgence of honky-tonk nightlife. This duality, the sacred and the profane, becomes immediately apparent as the sequence unfolds.
From the very first shot, emerging from murky water into harsh sunlight, a sense of unease is established. This inverts the familiar imagery of David Lynch, yet similarly signals a descent into the town’s hidden darkness. The camera’s subsequent right-to-left movement in establishing shots reinforces this feeling of being rooted in the past, a place burdened by superstition and prejudice.
Quick cuts of intertwined bodies flash across the screen, a hallmark of HBO’s provocative content, reminding viewers of the adult themes at play. These are immediately juxtaposed with scenes of a church and a bar, visually linking these seemingly disparate spaces as venues for intense, almost frenzied experiences.
Intertwined bodies flashing in True Blood title sequence
The sequence doesn’t shy away from confronting the darker aspects of Southern history and society. Flashes of imagery evoking race riots, though perhaps not visually contemporary, resonate with the underlying tensions that still permeate the social fabric. The seemingly polite attire of white individuals in these scenes subtly underscores the theme of hidden malice beneath pleasant surfaces – “pretty facades hide despicable things.”
One of the most striking and symbolically rich moments is the image of a woman slowly descending towards a striking rattlesnake. This slow-motion shot is masterfully executed, suggesting a coiled, dangerous femininity, a woman capable of striking back. It’s a powerful visual metaphor for the complex and often dangerous roles women occupy within the show’s world.
The jarring image of a child in a Klan hood, expressionless, is deeply unsettling. It speaks to the cyclical nature of hate, suggesting that prejudice is instilled early and perpetuated across generations. The subsequent shot of a middle-aged man, presented in color in contrast to the black and white Klan imagery, subtly implies the chilling continuity of these hateful ideologies.
The seemingly innocent act of eating strawberries takes on a sinister dimension in this sequence. The juicy red fruit becomes a symbol of blood and visceral desire, amplified by lip-licking smiles and juxtaposed with graphic imagery of animal carcasses and internal organs. These stark contrasts highlight the raw, primal undercurrents that run beneath the surface of Bon Temps.
A fleeting image of a boy moving forward disappears in a blink. This ephemeral moment is open to interpretation: is it child abduction, the fleeting nature of youth, or a resistance to change itself? The ambiguity adds to the sequence’s unsettling atmosphere.
The juxtaposition of a woman lying still amidst eerie glowsticks (suggesting a rave or perhaps something more sinister) cut with a dead possum raises disturbing questions. Is the woman dead? Does it speak to the devaluation of women, treated as disposable objects? The sequence thrives on such unsettling ambiguities.
The infamous “God Hates Fangs” sign directly addresses the show’s central metaphor: vampires as stand-ins for marginalized groups, particularly the LGBTQ+ community. This is the most explicit reference to the show’s themes within the opening, besides the show’s title itself, making the allegorical nature undeniable.
The latter half of the sequence delves deeper into the intertwining themes of dance, flirtation, bars, and sexuality, all presented as inextricably linked, much like the intertwined relationship between church dogma and human desire that the sequence explores.
Intertwined bodies flashing in True Blood title sequence
The visual motif of women being linked to animals and death recurs, this time with a Venus flytrap consuming a frog. This reinforces the themes of predatory sexuality and the constant presence of danger and mortality.
A masterful time-lapse shot further enhances the sequence’s visual dynamism, capturing the rapid passage of time and perhaps the decay inherent in the show’s Southern Gothic setting.
The “laying on of hands” is presented in a triptych of contexts: violence, sex, and religious fervor. This visual connection underscores the sequence’s central argument about the blurred lines between these seemingly distinct human experiences.
The imagery of emergence from a cocoon evokes religious rebirth but also directly ties into vampire lore, where vampires are often depicted as emerging anew from a coffin or grave, mirroring themes of transformation and resurrection.
The act of writing on a creature’s body transitions to a woman seemingly speaking in tongues or possessed, then to another woman writhing in a sexual manner. This visual flow suggests a connection between religious ecstasy, spiritual possession, and sexual abandon, all blurring into one intense, primal experience.
A close-up of red lips inhaling smoke is both sensual and suggestive of danger, subverting expectations and highlighting the alluring yet deadly nature of the show’s world.
Plasma bags encase and then reveal the show’s title, True Blood. The music appears to conclude, only to surge back for an additional ten seconds, mirroring the show’s ability to constantly surprise and unsettle the viewer.
Two girls in a red-tinted shot evoke both sensuality and violence, or perhaps the blurred space between them, setting an ambiguous and slightly menacing tone.
A baptismal scene of two men pushing a woman underwater is simultaneously religious and violent. The title card flashes again briefly, before returning to a medium shot, placing the struggle in darkness, punctuated only by the stark white credit of “written and directed by”. This extended scene is the longest in the sequence, emphasizing the themes of struggle, religious fervor, and potential violence.
The sequence concludes with dark scenery and a brief red close-up of a woman from the dance floor, now appearing from below, seemingly positioned above the woman from the baptism scene. This final ambiguous image, whether sensual or violent, or both, encapsulates the show’s core themes and leaves a lasting impression.
The True Blood title sequence is more than just an introduction; it’s a meticulously crafted piece of art that acts as a thematic prologue to the series. It effectively sets the stage for the Southern Gothic world of Bon Temps, Louisiana, hinting at its complex themes of sexuality, religion, violence, prejudice, and the darkness lurking beneath the surface of everyday life. The genius of the sequence lies in its ability to be both visually arresting and deeply symbolic, ensuring that viewers are not just prepared for, but actively immersed in, the world of True Blood from the very first note of “Bad Things.”
