This Week In Posters: Scarlett Johansson Is Still Aiming Her Boobs At You

By 02.07.14


Hey, gang. I know it’s a little late for This Week in Posters this week and you’ve probably all gone home for the day, but I’m in Berlin for Berlinale and I haven’t had great WiFi for the most of the day. But now I’m back, with a belly full of pilsener and  mayo-drenched french fries and I haven’t slept for a really long time, so apologies if half this post doesn’t make sense.

We’re starting this week’s This Week in Posters off strong with Jodorowsky’s Dance of Reality. I have no idea what this one’s about, but I’d probably buy a ticket anyway. That’s the sign of a good poster. What can I say, I’m a sucker for creepy clowns and dude crotch.


This looks like a movie that will make me feel smarter. And yet the one quote is from… Marie Claire. Isn’t that, uh… a magazine about make-up? Interesting. I know this is probably playing here, but I think I’m going to pass. Ballerina movies just aren’t the same without aggressive lesbian rave sex.


Alicia Silverstone and Billy Burke? Jesus, what year is it? Am I having a flashback? I normally praise posters for making me want to research the movie, but I’m crediting the sheer novelty factor of Alicia Silverstone for it this time. True story: I sprouted my first pube when I saw Alicia Silverstone’s underwear in Clueless. It was a defining moment. Of course, that was before she named her child “Bear Blu” and told the world that she pre-chewed his food.


An imaginative teenage girl, living in a mystical and dangerous community built on a deserted drive-in movie lot along the Texas/Oklahoma border, struggles to realize her potential, and escape the world she was born into.

Uh, cool.

“Angels in Stardust” is a good title, because it doubles as its own Brazilian fart fetish parody title.


Okay, I’ll see this, but I swear to God, if anyone shows up onscreen not holding a weapon I’m f*ckin leaving.


Hey. So. Marvel. We’re really sticking with this one pose for Scarlett Johansson, huh? What is, uh… she supposed to doing there, exactly? Is she shooting boob guns? Did Robert Rodriguez secretly direct this? Because if Robert Rodriguez secretly directed this you can count me out.

Still, I have to give them credit for maintaining a consistent wind angle for both ScarJo’s hair and Sam Jackson’s coat. Attention to detail like that is why Marvel stays on top.


Cuban Fury stars Chris O’Dowd, Nick Frost, Rashida Jones, and Ian McShane in a film about competitive salsa dancing, from the director of Up All Night and Episodes. So far so good in my book. But how worried should I be that the posters kind of remind me of Burt Wonderstone?


His track jacket speaks Spanish.


Oh whaaat, Kayvan Novak’s in this? I. Am. So. There.

Hey, so you think they couldn’t make a deal with an orange soda company, and now he has to keep his hands over the label? I have no other explanation for this pose. Also, I would like to possess that belt.


“Look, Todd, it’s not important who the girl is. In fact, just crop it right in the middle of her face. Yep, that’s it, perfect. If this broad thinks I’m paying her royalties she’s dreaming.”


I can’t tell if her hips are lying or not. Heck, I can’t even tell if her lips are moving. HEYO! (*looks around for high five*) Whatever, screw you guys.

Anyway, Rashida Jones has an odd expression here. What do you call that, “shy flapper?” I guess I expected a salsa pose to be, you know, saucier.


“One queer music nation in the visible” is such a stretch for a play on words that I think someone pulled a muscle, and I love that about it.

Hey, but wait, are Dolly Parton and Barack Obama lesbians? If so, I feel like they’re burying the lede here.


The plot of Grand Piano sounds like Speed on a piano (he has to keep playing or he dies!), so the old school poster style is definitely fitting.


Who would’ve thought that we’d have two posters referencing Jodorowsky this week? And they’re both the best posters.


Ooh, two people flirting and verbally sparring for two hours?? I can’t wait. It will be just like going to a bar, only without booze or the possibility of getting laid. Just take my ten bucks now.


You know, when I hear that a movie is about air sex, I guess I just assume the poster is going to have some hip thrusting in it. I’m just old fashioned like that. I do appreciate the implication that it will have air finger banging though.


Two delightful and exotic lonely hearts send love letters to each other? GIVE THIS MOVIE ALL OF THE LAURELS. Seriously, this is catnip for film festival programmers.


I can’t see this title and not hear James Franco pronouncing it “Mah ladies” in my head.


Need for Speed looks like one of the worst movies ever, but I like that they managed to get those diagonal lines every poster designer loves without just tilting the horizon line 45 degrees for no reason at all.


This poster looks like Jon Snow tried to run away from a volcano and ran smack into the sliding glass door. Which would probably be a better movie than another Roland Emmerich diarrhea. I always go in to Emmerich movies thinking they’re going to be awesomely stupid, but mostly they’re just mediocrely stupid, lazily stupid.


It’s kind of a shame that this much artistic talent went into creating a poster that says “Surprise! It’s another horror movie about a creepy little kid! Because you never get tired of these for some reason!”


Northern Irish people shooting each other over which flavor of Jesus they worship? Oh count me the F in.


Ooh, a story about teen vampires? Hold on, I don’t think he looks bland and white enough.


Ooh, that’s better. My gosh, a grey tank underneath an American Eagle button-up? Check out the Fonz of Mormon camp over here.


I don’t have anything to say about this except that Whitey Bulger looks like Robert Patrick in Terminator 2 had a baby with Kevin Bacon. I don’t know if that’s scientifically possible, but it should be. C’mon, step it up, science.

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