A STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE TO ASSEMBLING THE PERFECT TV CREAM FILM

1 - THE IDENT

There's a game we used to play round our bit when films would come on the telly which we very loosely used to term `The Ident Game'. Basically, prior to the credits hitching up in whatever ker-razy form the director was to have them take we had to try and guess the name of the studio or production company from the usually bizarre graphic that would be employed before the name of the studio actually appeared. These days it's getting easier, what with the scene being rather eclipsed by that white horse trotting all over the place (Tri-Star), bits of off-kilter film stock tumbling around (New Line), lighthouses flashing all over the place (Castle Rock) and of course the hoary old chestnuts of cuddly lions (MGM, natch) and the odd ones that actually say who they are straight off (Universal, United Artists etc. which is no fun at all). Naturally, like everything else, things were better in the old days when there existed a plethora of dusty, musty old independent film companies up closes in Wardour Street who all required an opening shot that was memorable enough to allow the audience distinguish between the actual films, which were often less so.

Literalism often seemed to be the watchword with these companies, with the likes of London Pictures using a picture of Big Ben with required bongs attached, which works in as much as, falling short of showing footage of Albert Steptoe dressed as a Pearly King doing the Lambeth Walk whilst eating a pie, it would be impossible to identify a film with the capital to any greater degree. On the same tip, Gainsborough Films rather brilliantly used to top their early Hitchockian nonsense and such with the fabulous image of a woman in huge feathery hat and bosoms-up frock a la a picture by yer actual Gainsborough. Archers? Arrows hitting a target. A Launder/Gilliat Production? Two directors chairs with Launder and Gilliat written on them. You can see the logic (although sadly Butchers films never utilised John `Heaven's Above' Comer in full stripy-aproned glory cutting up chops and shouting "2 and 6 there love!" to his clerk). In saying that, others of the same era could take the literalism a little too far with the likes of British Leylandesque `Associated British Pictures' displaying a piece of cardboard which read, erm, `Associated British Pictures' on it.

In later years British film companies kept the tradition going with the likes of Palace Pictures employing a Hi-De-Hi! style neon-effect art deco picture-hall logo with, helpfully, `Palace Pictures' shouted across the top although Handmade sort of made the break what with their Gilliam-designed pointing camera/finger thing (although we only actually understood that after someone explained it to us, which seems rather in-keeping with most of Gilliam's stuff we have to say) but even they had to write their name underneath. As did Tigon who went for a nice drawing of a tiger but then must have felt compelled to put their name underneath, which they did, as they no doubt felt that their films were strange enough without having a random picture of a large predatory carnivore attached at the outset for no apparent reason.

None of this helps our emergent search for the first step to the perfect film, so we'd better crack on. It's probably no mistake that the only opening shot ident for a company that people not only remember but emulate whenever the chance arises has nothing to do with that whole literal thing as described above at all. The gong used by bread-to-photocopiers combine Rank must be the most famous of all these devices, with even the MGM lion having had its coin diminished by being replaced briefly by that strange circular drawing of it that they used for a while (at the outset of 2001: A Space Odyssey, for example, which tells you really all you need to know about the film from the very outset). We would doubt the word of anyone who would try to say that they have come within twenty feet of even the slenderest of dinner gongs without the notion occurring to them – however fleetingly – of striking it in the manner of the bloke in the loin cloth. So is this to be the one to use? Actually, no. It's not our favourite, ergo it's not the best. Straight literalism isn't always the best and, bafflingly we concede, neither is this.

Fittingly enough for us, we have to plump for a touch of obscurantism on this since the best opening ident ever was that utilised by sort-of independent producer Nat Cohen. There are various reasons that this is the best one to use. Firstly, it's hardly ever seen, thereby confounding idiots like us who play that game we mentioned above and thereby gaining a little eyebrow raising attention to hook the audience. Secondly we happen to like it when people go to the trouble of creating something as protracted and probably expensive as this as if they're going to all of a sudden turn into Samuel Goldwyn when they know perfectly well – as do we – that they'll probably never get to use it again (sort of like a more expensive form of making a greetings card in school and writing Your Name Ltd. on the bottom at the back, as if you're going to topple Hallmark any day now with your hand-drawn sugar paper efforts). Thirdly this particular magnificent effort combines both elements of not-clear-to-start-with graphic, essentially a strange (and very mid `70s) spinning thing composed – as it turns out – of `A NAT COHEN PRODUCTION' as the spokes of said wheel which then slow down slightly to give up the name itself which then spreads out across the bottom of the screen. Lastly, it doesn't involve any sort of music which is always a bonus since if there does happen to be a ditty (like for 20th Century Fox) then you're always faced with the prospect of some twat humming along to it loudly in the pictures. Which is murder.

So the `A Nat Cohen Production' logo is going to be the first thing to chuck up on screen in our perfect film. We had almost gone for the ancient black and white Universal one, with the words going round an inexplicably black globe whilst being chased by a little bi- plane and all in appealing Doozeresque clear plastic, but when all's said and done, we're backing Britain. Rank stupidity? Hardly.

Who's commanding that genteel wave? It's the lovely Glennis Lorimer, star of such Gainsborough classics as Ask a Policeman and - oh, the holisticity! - Alf's Button Afloat.

"'Tis better to miss Naples than hit Margate. .." Obvious "always hitting the target" symbolism ahoy for PnP, but it's mainly just a nice, colourful logo.

Well, it beats an apple.