Grr, argh. Sit, Ubu, sit. I made this! What’s the story behind the production company tags added onto our favourite TV shows?
Closing logos have evolved into a TV production company’s tiny stamp of individuality. They’re a single snippet of screen time not at the mercy of network notes, audience feedback or sponsorship concerns.
A closing tag doesn’t need to sell a show, tell a story, or lasso an audience back for the next episode. It’s simply a signature, a few seconds entirely belonging to the creatives, to do with what they will.
As such, closing logos are as self-indulgent or esoteric as the production company wills them. They’re perhaps the only place in television production where in-jokes, family photos, personal homages (or extended rants in the case of one comedy producer) and kid-drawn scribbles usually found taped to the fridge door are entirely welcome.
Closing logos have evolved into a TV production company’s tiny stamp of individuality. They’re a single snippet of screen time not at the mercy of network notes, audience feedback or sponsorship concerns.
A closing tag doesn’t need to sell a show, tell a story, or lasso an audience back for the next episode. It’s simply a signature, a few seconds entirely belonging to the creatives, to do with what they will.
As such, closing logos are as self-indulgent or esoteric as the production company wills them. They’re perhaps the only place in television production where in-jokes, family photos, personal homages (or extended rants in the case of one comedy producer) and kid-drawn scribbles usually found taped to the fridge door are entirely welcome.
- 8/10/2015
- by louisamellor
- Den of Geek
The footballer gave Julian Coman some of his happiest memories at Manchester United but left him devastated when he abruptly retired at 30. Over coffee in a Paris cafe, the enigmatic star explains why he broke football fans' hearts to pursue a career as an action hero
As the minutes tick by towards the appointed hour of the interview, memories come thick and fast. The Saturdays spent singing Eric's name to the tune of "La Marseillaise" in the halcyon days of the mid-1990s; standing behind the goal as he produced an exquisitely calibrated chip against Sunderland, before striking an emperor's pose, collar upturned, to accept the crowd's acclaim; the time I almost lost my job as a night news editor, after talking half the night to my brother about the ramifications of the infamous assault on a Crystal Palace fan in 1995 – I forgot that it might be an idea to put something in the paper.
As the minutes tick by towards the appointed hour of the interview, memories come thick and fast. The Saturdays spent singing Eric's name to the tune of "La Marseillaise" in the halcyon days of the mid-1990s; standing behind the goal as he produced an exquisitely calibrated chip against Sunderland, before striking an emperor's pose, collar upturned, to accept the crowd's acclaim; the time I almost lost my job as a night news editor, after talking half the night to my brother about the ramifications of the infamous assault on a Crystal Palace fan in 1995 – I forgot that it might be an idea to put something in the paper.
- 3/25/2012
- by Julian Coman
- The Guardian - Film News
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