THIS WEEK IN THIS WEEK IN POSTERS: Hugh Jackman teaches robots to box, Baby Goose drives, and Brooke Shields’ daughter marries a horse. BUT FIRST! THE RUM DIARY!
Jesus Christ, it feels like I’ve been waiting ten years for this movie to come out. I like the poster. It seems to say, “Yes, our film stars the most popular movie star on the planet, and we don’t even NEED to put him in the poster.” I can’t tell if that’s really ballsy or just really stupid. In any case, I think a great title for a porn parody would be “The Cum Dairy.”
What I gather from this is that a young girl named Whitney Brown has married a horse, thereby destroying the sanctity of marriage and causing her parents’ heads to rapidly inflate to twice their normal size. Luckily they’re all saved when a magical Mini Cooper named Bob, magically capable of fitting an entire horse in its back seat, whisks them away somewhere safe, somewhere like Pennsylvania. So clearly, this must be some kind of Rick Santorum-produced, right-wing allegory about the dangers of gay marriage. I’m disgusted, frankly.
Haha, stupid dog! WHY DON’T YOU GROW UP, DOG? GET YOUR LIFE TOGETHER, DOG! QUIT DRINKING TOO MUCH AND WAKING UP ON TOP OF CHICKS’ PILLOWS.
On a serious note, I watched Up in the Air again the other day, and God damn, Jason Reitman is the man. I’ll be ticket in hand for whatever he wants to make.
Everyone is searching for something. Owen Wilson, for instance, is searching for his right arm. Where did it go?
So I don’t know about you, but I hadn’t heard of this movie before now. Apparently it’s an adaptation of the book “The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession.” Hey, why do all books have to have ridiculously long titles now? If Hemingway were alive today, he’d have had to call it “The Sun Also Rises: A Bullfighting Yarn about Matadors, Impotence, Spain, Drinking, a Lost Generation, and the War That Hurt Them.” Anyway, here’s the synopsis for the book:
There is a well-known competition among birders called the Big Year, in which one abandons one’s regular life for one whole year in order to see more species of birds in a geographic area than one’s competitors. Environmental journalist Obmascik follows the 1998 Big Year’s three main competitors–a New Jersey roofing contractor, a corporate executive, and a software engineer–as they crisscross the country in search of birds.
So I guess it turns out, it’s not really birds they’re searching for at all.
I realize this is a film about Al Pacino’s journey to interpret Oscar Wilde’s most controversial play, but you put an Italian guy in a movie about a gay guy’s play and make the title super close to “Wild Salami,” guess where my mind’s going to be.
You know what else sucks? THIS POSTER! (*bangs gong, sits back in chair, impressed with self*) Nice to see Alicia Silverstone getting work though. Assuming this was paid work.
Yep, that’s a badass poster alright. I really liked the concept of Tucker and Dale, I just wish it had been executed as well as this poster.
This is about the eight billionth poster for Sh*tty Paul Anderson’s 3D Musketeers, but finally they’re selling the sizzle! ZEPPELINS! PIRATE SHIPS! SWORD FIGHTS! FIRE! ALL THE ACTION YOU REMEMBER FROM THE 19th CENTURY NOVEL, PLUS, A DUDE IN A STEAM PUNK EYE PATCH!
TICK TICK TICK…. BOOKS!
You have to love a poster so goddamned lazy they can’t even match the floating heads to the corresponding name. Jesus, man, there were three names in this. Google it if you have to.
I promised you robots boxing, and BOOM, THERE’S THE F*CKING ROBOTS BOXING!
This guy looks mean. I bet this is the bot that punches the other bot in the nuts in the trailer. That’s right, this movie has robot dick punching. It’s even worse than Idiocracy ever imagined.
I don’t about you, but if the Asian robot doesn’t do some karate, I will be sorely disappointed.
I was really hoping Google Translate would spit back some awesome gibberish, but instead I got “Giant Steel. Courage can be stronger than steel.”
Lame. Also, what the hell is Jackman looking at?
“If you’ve got one shot, make it real.”
Oh don’t worry, robot movie, I don’t have to worry about MAKING it real, because real is how I KEEP IT. Anyway, I’m guessing this means Hugh Jackman gets inside the robot for the climax (real as in human and not robot?). Because that tagline is either some pretty heavy-handed foreshadowing, or a totally f*cking meaningless mutant mash-up of motivational clichés.
DEFINITION. [DEF-uh-NISH-un]. noun. Something school children put at the beginning of their essays until they reach the seventh grade, and switch to famous quotes.
I don’t know who J. Smith-Cameron is, but a name that has both an initial for a first name AND a hyphenated last name wins the ascot bowl. I bet that guy (or girl?) reads the F*CK out of the New Yorker.
I saw this poster and immediately wanted to see the movie, so I have to call that a success. It’s like a big mystery. How’d that guy lose his eye? Ooh, I hope the accident was cocaine related.
I saw this movie at Sundance. It’s a pretty good poster, but given the content, I think a blank white page with the words “FAT GYPSIES BEATING THE PISS OUT OF EACH OTHER IN THE STREET” would work even better. Who wouldn’t want to see that? If a logline like that doesn’t interest you, we probably couldn’t be friends.
“Murder never tasted so good?” Is this about food somehow? Because if it is, I want to know. I’d much rather watch a movie about food than another generic thriller.
Strap in, because we’ve got a few of these Killer Elite poster, all of them with the same degree of facial hair, pointed guns, aviator shades, and flying debris. They’d owe Charles Bronson money if he wasn’t dead.
FACK YOWAH SHADES, CAWKSUCKAH, MINE AH BETTAH! (*pew, pew*)
Wew it looks loike da Stafe ‘as got ‘imself in a wew feyahce gunfoight, ‘asn’t oy, Tommy? Oy’d bettah put moy focken’ sunglahsses on ta protect moy oys from aw da fallin focken debris, innit.
Yay, it’s all three of them together! Here, I’ve created a simplified version of this poster:
WOMEN BE SHOPPIN’! LOOK OUT , SJP! You leave your Blackberry hanging out there like that, it’s liable to get stolen by an eagle, or thrown in the ocean to teach you an important lesson about your priorities. Anyway, here, I’ve created a more honest version of the same poster:
Whoa, how’d they get that chimp to wear a suit?
Is that the guy from Killer Elite?
HORIZON LINES, HOW DO THEY WORK?
Hey, girl. Does this scorpion jacket makes me look dangerous? Haha, scorpions are neat!
Bryan Cranston too? STOP RUNNING, DRIVE. YOU CROSSED THE FINISH LINE HOURS AGO.
Whoa, did they send Albert Brooks to Nic Cage’s forehead doctor?
From the director of A Nightmare in Las Cruces comes… Cruces Divided. Hmm, I’m sensing a theme here.
I think this is my favorite photo this week. If Burning Man was more like this, I’d be there right now. Especially if the guy on fire was a white guy with dreadlocks. Not a day goes by that I don’t dream about that.
I liked my versions better: