“You are about to enter another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind.”
Every episode of The Twilight Zone kicks off with an intro monologue, putting its own spin on the show’s mysterious fifth dimension. Series creator and host Rod Serling breaks the fourth wall to guide viewers into the story, only to return at the end with another memorable speech. From opening to closing, the series is defined by its cold opens and unforgettable monologues.
Not only do these monologues set the stage for what’s to come, but they also often elevate the story to come and leave a lasting impression. Here are our five favorite Twilight Zone openings, each chosen for its cultural impact, its clever subversion of expectations, or simply for Serling’s masterful command of language.
5
It’s a Good Life
The Twilight Zone season 3 episode 8, “It’s a Good Life,” is one of the show’s most iconic episodes, and its opening monologue sets the tone perfectly. It begins with a misdirection. Serling appears on camera in front of a map and explains that this story is “somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction.” He describes a fictional town in the United States that is now the only state in the country. The rest of America, along with its cars, electricity, and machines, has vanished due to a monster that lives in the town. Serling introduces the few remaining citizens as the players of the episode, but he saves the supposed monster for last.
“His name is Anthony Fremont. He’s six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes,” Serling says. “But when those eyes look at you, you’d better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge.” It’s as unique as it is brilliant, and what follows happens to be one of the best episodes in Twilight Zone history.
4
Deaths-Head Revisited
Serling is at his best when eviscerating Nazis with his words. And the opening monologue of season 3 episode 9, “Deaths-Head Revisited,” is a poetic evisceration of former captain of the S.S., Mr. Schmidt. He returns to the old concentration camp where he used to work, looking for nostalgia, of all things. Serling picks Schmidt apart and refers to Nazis as individuals who “walk the Earth without a heart.”
Describing the Nazi camps, Serling narrates: “They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worse of all, their conscience.”
It’s a phenomenal assortment of words to describe how detestable Schmidt and all men like him are.
3
Nothing in the Dark
A paranoid older woman holed up in a rundown apartment sees a police man get shot in front of her door, but she’s too afraid to save him. In fact, she’s scared of death and believes the young police man may be the Grim Reaper. Serling’s monologue here is a setup for the episode, explained far more sleekly and richly than I could ever imitate.
“An old woman living in a nightmare, an old woman who has fought a thousand battles with death and always won,” Serling narrates. “Now she’s faced with a grim decision – whether or not to open a door.” It’s both a poignant reminder that, despite how many narrow escapes we’ve had, the reaper is coming, and it could be as chaotic or quiet as it’d like.
There’s nothing profound or clever about this monologue, but it introduces the premise excellently and gives context that otherwise would go unexplained. Season 3 episode 16, “Nothing in the Dark,” features brilliant performances from Gladys Cooper and Robert Redford and is even more haunting now that Redford passed away in 2024.
2
Obsolete Man
“You walk into this room at your own risk, because it leads to the future. Not a future that will be, but one that might be. This is not a new world. It is simply an extension of what began in the old one.”
“Obsolete Man” (season 2 episode 29) ranks among the series’ finest. It presents the idea that, in a more technologically advanced future, “The State” may become a dictatorship by banning literature, religion, and individualism. Another episode that feels uncomfortably relevant to today’s political climate, it argues that the State values no individual, neither those it deems obsolete, nor those who champion it, nor even the people who collectively make it whole.
“But like every one of the super-states that preceded it, it has one iron rule: logic is an enemy and truth is a menace,” Serling continues.
Burgess Meredith delivers yet another standout performance in the series as the episode’s titular “obsolete man,” and its ending is one of the most poignant in the show.
1
Walking Distance
“Martin Sloane, age thirty-six. Occupation: vice president, ad agency, in charge of media.” This one hits hard, if for no other reason than because it signals the start of one of the greatest episodes in Twilight Zone history. Season 1 episode 5, “Walking Distance,” is a relatable story with a relatable moral: you can never return home. The place you called home is a memory, and while you were away, home changed, too. The same people aren’t there, places are gone, and new ones have taken their place.
But for Solane, unlike the rest of us, there’s a brief chance to step back in time, if only for a fleeting moment. “Somewhere up the road, he’s looking for sanity,” Serling says. “And somewhere up the road, he’ll find something else.” It’s one of the rare monologues that doesn’t end with Serling explicitly naming The Twilight Zone, though he unmistakably gestures toward it. I like to think he leaves it unsaid because the lesson isn’t confined to the fifth dimension, it’s one we all have to learn at some point in our lives, and one Solane was granted the singular privilege of learning…in the Twilight Zone!
