S02E06: Seventy Years of Crime on TV

As seen through the title sequences — 🎧 recommended.

One of my enduring memories as a 90s kid growing up in India, is rushing to the living room whenever this music played on TV.

It announced the airing of Byomkesh Bakshi, a detective show that played on Doordarshan every week from 1993-97. Adapted from the Bengali short stories of Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay set in newly independent India, it featured the eponymous Byomkesh Bakshi, satyanneshi (“Truth Seeker” as he liked to call himself, disdaining terms like “detective” and “private eye”).

Thanks to this show playing on national TV, Byomkesh became the first Indian investigator I discovered. The slightly theatrical acting and the background score offered helpful cues to fill in the gaps in my understanding of Hindi—and I was hooked. It helped that the role was portrayed by the exceedingly handsome Rajit Kapur. 😃

If you haven’t watched the above video, I highly recommend that you do before continuing. I’ll be sharing links to many more below, because this episode¹ is all about the title sequences of TV crime shows from the last 70-odd years. Many thanks to writer and movies/music enthusiast K.V.Ramesh for helping me appreciate the compositional nuances of these tracks and for the gentle nudges to stop procrastinating on this essay.

The Dog-Whistle

The fantastic title track of this show was composed by sitarist Ananda Shankar, whose signature style combined Indian classical ragas with Western electronic compositions. Here, he plays the lead sitar himself and layers it with synthesizers and electronic percussion. It was quite a new approach for Indian television at the time and set the mood for the show perfectly—mysterious with thrilling undertones.

My Pavlovian reaction to this music is, in fact, the original purpose of title tracks for TV shows—to let people know that the show is on. Just as the whistle of the pourakarmikas² or the bell-ringing of the ice cream cart gets heads popping out from balconies and a mad rush downstairs to hand over trash or buy an ice cream, the earliest role of title tracks was to summon people to the television set. With time and repetition, the association of the music to the show became stronger.

Screenshot of YouTube comments on the title track of Columbo (see below)

Brand, Brand, Baby!

Once you were plonked in front of the TV, the title sequences then doubled as branding vehicles. The particular combination of visuals and music set the tone for the show and told you what to expect for the next hour or so. Take, for example, Perry Mason (1957-66). The score is tense and suspenseful, almost Hitchcockian, and the courtroom visuals and expressive faces tell you that you can expect Drama.

Columbo (1968-78) takes a different approach. The music starts out quite upbeat but soon, a few unsettling strains keep in. The visuals are in a startling red and black, with a shadowy figure shining a torch into our eyes. Is that Columbo, shining a light on the ugly face of truth?

And then there’s Murder, She Wrote (1984-96)—my newsletter name is a tribute to this wonderful series—where the entire title sequence is so cheery and playful that you know murder is about to get a most ladylike treatment, even if the bodies pile up.

Dramatis Personae

Just as theatre-goers were handed programs, early title sequences also served as an orientation for viewers. For example, in the Perry Mason sequence, you meet all of the main cast in the courtroom in under 45 seconds. Remember, this was a time when viewers had to rely on program guides in the paper to know what’s on, and sometimes not even that. People might discover the show at any point by accidentally being in front of the TV and the title sequence had to give them a superquick overview.

The tradition of introducing the key players has persisted until recent times. You can see it in the titles of New Tricks (2003-15), Psych (2006-14), and in a more minimal form, Vera (2011-25) and Slow Horses (2022- ).

Where the main character (or the star) is the biggest attraction, they get all the spotlight. For instance, Monsieur Poirot, whose virtues do not include humility (“I am the greatest detective in the world!”), would be pleased to know that the intro of iTV’s Poirot featured him and him alone. Although it is a strange experiment blending graphical Art Deco elements with the face of David Suchet, the music is stunning.

Likewise, the many quirks of neurodivergent detective Adrian Monk hog the screen time in the title of Monk (2002-10). This one is a neat segue into yet another purpose of these sequences…

World Building

The best title sequences gave you a glimpse of the mood and terrain of the story, even before a single line is spoken. BBC’s Miss Marple (1984-92) illustrates the village of St.Mary Mead like in a children’s storybook, and then zooms into its secrets and jealousies hidden behind net curtains and rose bushes. This one is among my absolute favourites.

In Law & Order (1990- ), the opening sequence is a montage of scenes from the everyday life of detectives and district attorneys. The colour theme is very urban—all black, blue and grey, no red in sight—and the montage shows you where the stories are set.

Sometimes, ‘setting’ is taken more literally in the titles. Shetland (2013- ) comes to mind, with its stunning landscapes and haunting music (an aside: please DM me if you know a way I can watch this in India. PLEASE.)

I was also amused to notice this similarity between Sherlock (2010-17) and Elementary (2012-19), two shows set in contemporary times that pay homage to the legendary Holmes. Both their opening sequences end with an instantly recognisable backdrop of the respective cities they’re set in. Sherlock-London and Elementary-New York. I like the energetic, grand orchestral style music of Sherlock but find the visuals pedestrian; conversely, I like the crime-themed Rube-Goldberg setup in Elementary but find the music pedestrian.

The Curse of the Cozies

Okay, perhaps that is an overreaction, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that all the cozy or comedic mysteries (of which there are many being created) are going for vibe-branding with an overuse of cute illustrations and peppy music with the odd sinister note.

It’s not that they are bad, more that all effort seems to be geared towards branding the sub-genre (cozy/light-hearted/humorous) rather than the individual show. Let me lay out some examples.

I suppose the same accusation can be levelled at all genre-television shows. The titles of all crime noir shows look similar as do those of medical dramas and family sitcoms. (Happy families are all alike but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way?)

In an age of OTT and binge-watching episodes back to back, title sequences are watched perhaps once or twice and then skipped over. Discovery now happens through platform recommendations which run on the formula of “If you watched X, you might watch Y.” Therefore, individually branding each show is less important than cuing what sub-genre it is. No wonder many makers are only aiming for pass marks.

My worry is that the lack of care shown in the title sequences will eventually start reflecting in the shows. If such enshittification continues, we stand to lose true markers of individuality that make shows unforgettable. Like the incredible classical-inspired music that Christopher Gunning composed for Poirot and Barrington Pheloung did for Inspector Morse (1987-2000), the haunting strains played on a theremin for Midsomer Murders (1997- ), or the loving attention to detail in the visuals selected for every title sequence of Psych.

What do you think of title sequences? Do you notice them? Do you think they matter? Do you have any favourites? I’d love to know.

1. I should probably call this an issue but I like the idea of naming my newsletters the way TV shows are named—with series and episode numbers. So, episode it is.

2. Sanitation workers in Karnataka, where I live.