What Makes a Perfect Opening Number?
by Chris Peterson
The perfect opening number is a promise. It does not just start a show, it defines it. In the space of a few minutes the audience needs to know exactly where they are, what kind of world they have stepped into, and how to listen to everything that comes next. A great opening number is a handshake, a declaration, and sometimes even a dare. It says: here we go, trust us, you are in good hands.
Musicals by their nature ask audiences to suspend disbelief. Characters breaking into song is not normal in any other form of storytelling. The opening number eases us into that contract. If it is strong, we are no longer just watching actors on a stage. We are in Anatevka, or on 42nd Street, or marching alongside revolutionaries. That transformation happens instantly, and it begins with how a show chooses to open its mouth and sing.
Think about “Tradition” in Fiddler on the Roof. It is not only a catchy ensemble piece. It is an entire community declaring who they are and what holds them together. In one number we understand the stakes, the tension, and the culture that drives the story. The brilliance of that song is that it celebrates and foreshadows at the same time. We hear the pride in their voices, but we also sense the fragility. That is storytelling economy. Music does the heavy lifting of an entire first act.
Now look at “Alexander Hamilton” in Hamilton. It is practically a biography rapped at lightning speed, but by the end we know who the central figure is, what his ambition looks like, and the scale of the story we are about to witness. The song is a history lesson, a character study, and a rallying cry all at once. It dares you not to lean forward. Even if you knew nothing about the man, you would be hooked.
Some shows take the opposite approach. “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” in Oklahoma! shocked audiences by beginning not with a booming chorus but with a lone voice, soft and steady, painting a picture of the world. For audiences in 1943 who were used to big spectacle, that choice was radical. Rodgers and Hammerstein declared: this is not glitter, this is story. In one song they forever changed the DNA of the American musical.
“Comedy Tonight” in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum breaks the fourth wall right away and tells us: this is going to be ridiculous, and you are going to love it. No guessing, no hesitation. The tone is set before the first scene begins. Sondheim, who was famously meticulous about structure, knew the opening had to establish the rules. If the audience is confused in the first ten minutes, the show has already lost them.
That is the fascination of opening numbers. They come in all shapes and sizes, but every single one has the same responsibility. They must declare the identity of the show. “I Hope I Get It” in A Chorus Line does this with pounding urgency. Within moments we know that we are watching performers whose entire livelihoods depend on whether or not they are chosen. The stakes could not be higher. “All That Jazz” in Chicago smolders with danger and allure, promising a night of cynicism, seduction, and style. “Circle of Life” in The Lion King is not just a number but an event. The theatre itself transforms into the Pride Lands, and suddenly we are swept into the spectacle.
What makes these songs unforgettable is not only their music but their confidence. They know exactly what they need to do, and they do it without apology. They do not waste time. They do not hesitate. They tell us: this is the story we are telling, and this is how we are telling it.
When an opening number falters, the entire show can struggle to recover. If the first song does not land, audiences spend the next twenty minutes searching for clarity, wondering if the show will ever declare itself. A show can build momentum later, but if the energy is missing at the top, the disconnect ripples through the house. You can feel it.
The truth is that a perfect opening number is theatre distilled. It is worldbuilding, character introduction, theme-setting, and entertainment all rolled together. It is why “Good Morning Baltimore” in Hairspray is irresistible. In just a few minutes we know who Tracy Turnblad is and why we want to root for her. It is why “The Ballad of Sweeney Todd” chills an audience to silence. The lyrics and harmonies create dread so potent that you cannot look away. It is why “Opening Night” in The Producers has the house doubled over with laughter before the plot even begins.
For theatre fans, debating the best opening number is like arguing over the best baseball leadoff hitter or the greatest film opening credits. Everyone has a favorite, and everyone has their reasons. But what unites every argument is the understanding that the opener matters. It is not just a song. It is an invitation. It is the contract between audience and storyteller.
So perhaps the real test of a musical is not whether we leave humming the finale. The test is whether those first few minutes grabbed us, pulled us in, and convinced us to surrender to the story ahead. Because if the opening number gets it right, the rest of the show does not simply follow—it thrives. The best opening numbers remind us why we showed up in the first place. For that electric moment when the lights dim, the music swells, and the promise of the night is sealed in a single song.