Boom! The Visual and Lyrical Poetry of the New Season 2 Opening Credits

As the new opening credits rolled during The Leftovers Season 2 premiere, did you do a double-check to make sure you were actually watching The Leftovers? And then check the dial yet again after the first two minutes of the episode as a gestational cavewoman meandered on the screen? 

Then… You. Are. Not. Alone. The ironic music + montage of cryptic snapshots = what the hell???

Something has definitely gone missing and it’s not just the people. The haunting, hypnotic piano of Season 1’s opening credits…has vanished.

But, in my opinion, there’s new poetry going on in the credits:

  • Feel the irony of the zippity-doo-dah music as it mocks those now mucking along in their surreal existence.
  • Absorb the clash of the lyrics against the banjo-strummin’, bee-bop of Iris Dement’s “Let the Mystery Be.”
  • See the “moment-in-time” still shots of the departed. Some silhouette images are a transparency of the surroundings while others depict the figurative and abstract destinations conjured up by the survivors. A vast cosmos—deep and dark. The perceived haven of fluffy clouds. Promise of tranquility in a serene sunset. The cleanliness of fresh raindrops. Volatile, potent lightening. Until all you’re left with at the end, is the reality that even the silhouette, disappears completely.
  • True to form, expect the unexpected with this show. Baffling, truly mesmerizing. This intro aims to shake us up. The viewer’s uncomfortable unfamiliarity parallels the precarious stability of the characters and the undeniable ethereal, new world order: unflappable disorder.
  • Reminds us that the surface is never what it seems. The fabric of picturesque lives can be ripped to shreds in the blink of an eye.
  • Departures breached the common normalcy of life causing the ripples to tangibly alter every remaining human life.
  • Finally, the very chorus of the song echoes the juxtaposition of The Leftovers: Can anyone really ever…“Let the Mystery Be”?

Kristen Bush is a freelance writer living the good life in Eagle River, Alaska, with her husband, daughter and fluffy dog.