Saul Bass and the Mad Men Legacy: Title Sequences as Cinematic Architecture
- Staff
- 4 minutes ago
- 5 min read
by #LizPublika
Art of the Title Sequence
It's hard to believe that Mad Men (2007) — conceived by Matthew Weiner — first premiered nearly twenty years ago. While there is much to say about its plot and characters, the stylish yet minimalist opening title sequence remains one of the most influential television credits ever created. It features a businessman rendered as a black-and-white silhouette, falling through geometric mid-century architecture and advertising imagery, accompanied by an instrumental edit of "A Beautiful Mine" by RJD2.
Its creators make no secret that the sequence was inspired by Saul Bass (1920-1996). Designed by Steve Fuller and Mark Gardner for Imaginary Forces, it pays direct homage to Bass's skyscraper-filled opening for Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959) and the falling man imagery from the Vertigo (1958) poster. But this isn't simple imitation. Understanding why Mad Men's titles work requires understanding Bass's approach to design: pragmatic problem-solving grounded in intellectual rigor.
Where Bass Came From
Saul Bass had a unique perspective due to his start in the business. His personal interests and intellectual pursuits — learning how to draw, studying different art movements, and keeping abreast of the sciences — combined with his desire to be creative but pragmatic. This allowed him to focus on elements he believed conveyed the most meaning through visual simplicity.
Bass spent fifteen years working in studio publicity before establishing his own design practice. This wasn't a detour. It taught him how business operated, how communication functioned in the real world, and what audiences actually responded to. When he later encountered the theoretical writings of László Moholy-Nagy and György Kepes — Bauhaus associates — he had the experience to know which ideas mattered and which were merely fashionable.
Bass took what worked: clean compositions, sans serif typography, geometric shapes, limited color palettes. He discarded what didn't. He studied art movements and visual theory because understanding these disciplines made him better at using them strategically. He learned to draw because drawing clarified thinking. He followed developments in mathematics and technology because they offered new tools for solving visual problems. But nothing mattered if the final work didn't communicate effectively.
This synthesis of intellectual curiosity and practical discipline became his trademark. Bass wasn't interested in artistic self-expression. He was interested in solving problems. A corporate logo needed to work at any size. A film title sequence needed to establish tone and prepare audiences before the narrative began. A poster needed to communicate its message instantly. Form always served function.
The Problem-First Philosophy
Bass believed something fundamental: "The problem defines the solution." Having tired of Hollywood's "ballyhoo" — promotional noise disconnected from actual content — he saw title sequences as an opportunity to synthesize sound, movement, and image into a unified experience that prepared audiences emotionally and intellectually before the narrative began.
Rather than developing a signature style and applying it uniformly, Bass understood that each assignment demanded its own visual approach. A title sequence could establish tone, introduce themes, and set psychological expectations. It could be meaningful, not merely pretty. "The most stimulating source for a solution to a problem comes from the problem itself," Bass insisted. Each film presented unique challenges that required bespoke solutions.
The Hitchcock Collaborations (1958-1960)
Bass's three collaborations with Alfred Hitchcock demonstrate this problem-centered approach applied to distinct creative challenges.
For Vertigo, the problem was visualizing obsession and psychological disorientation. Bass created a sequence featuring a woman's eye from which spiral patterns emerge, conveying dizziness and the feeling of being trapped in a compulsive cycle. The technical execution required John Whitney, who generated mathematical spirals using an analog computer built from repurposed military technology. The spirals weren't decorative — they were visual metaphors for how obsession feels.
For North by Northwest, Bass used a green graphic of a Manhattan skyscraper with kinetic typography integrated into converging lines. The geometric grid represented urban order — structure that the film's narrative would systematically dismantle.
For Psycho, Bass designed titles where geometric lines split and disjoin typography, visualizing what psychoanalysis describes as schizophrenia. The fragmenting credits literally performed the psychological state at the film's core. Bass also storyboarded the shower scene, creating debate about his role. The biography by Jennifer Bass and Pat Kirkham documents his contribution: he storyboarded the scene and set up the first shot, though the final product differed. The degree of his direction remains contested, but the scene's rapid cutting, fragmented imagery, and geometric composition undeniably reflect Bass's visual methodology.
Mad Men: Bass's Legacy in Application
When Matthew Weiner briefed Steve Fuller and Mark Gardner on the Mad Men opening, he posed the problem directly: "I imagine a guy walking into a building, taking the elevator up to his office, putting his briefcase down and jumping out the window…but not that."
Fuller's response was immediate: "Why NOT that?" This captured the essence of Bass's methodology — let the problem guide the solution, not convention.
Fuller clarified that the direct visual inspiration came from a calendar illustration in A Smile in the Mind. But the conceptual framework derived from Bass. As Fuller explained to PRINT Magazine, "It really came from the design stew that's been swirling around in our head over the last 15 years since we left college." Bass's influence operates through internalized methodology, not direct copying. Contemporary designers use tools Bass never had — 3D animation, digital compositing — but apply his fundamental principle: form performs meaning.
Fuller and Gardner's core problem was visualizing a man trapped in the American Dream he's selling. The falling silhouette through geometric architecture enacts Don Draper's psychological state. When Lionsgate worried about 9/11 connections, Weiner defended the sequence, understanding that visual metaphor communicates psychological truth more effectively than literal representation. The sequence won an Emmy Award for outstanding main title.
The Lasting Influence
Bass continued producing distinctive title sequences throughout his career: Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965), Grand Prix (1966), Goodfellas (1990), Cape Fear (1991), and The Age of Innocence (1993). He won an Academy Award for his short film Why Man Creates (1968) and concluded with Martin Scorsese's Casino (1995).
Bass's legacy isn't a visual style to imitate but a philosophy: design is applied intelligence. This requires intellectual curiosity — studying art movements, understanding mathematics, learning to draw — combined with pragmatic discipline. It requires letting each problem dictate its own solution rather than relying on style as shortcut.
Every designer who believes "the problem defines the solution," every title sequence that distills narrative essence into symbolic form, operates in territory Bass mapped. He proved that commercial work can be genuinely innovative and that understanding how to see and think matters more than developing a recognizable aesthetic.
That's what Mad Men understood. And that's why the opening credits still work.