This Week In Posters: Borgs, Bad Moms, Gunther, And Lady Birds

This week in This Week in Posters, we begin with this Fronsh poster for Borg/McEnroe, which I like a lot, and not just because they matched up the names with the corresponding character/actor. It uses the net as the visual slash between “Borg and McEnroe.” I also enjoy that in the ’70s (I know the movie is set in 1980, but 1980 is for all intents and purposes part of the ’70s), if your hair didn’t come past your ears you were a narc. Even if you were a professional athlete, even if you had a head of gross curly ringlets like John McEnroe and me. From 1975 – 1981, no one didn’t look like a porn producer.

[posters via IMPA]

“Welcome back, we’re here live at Wimbledon, and… my, John McEnroe is really heating up. My goodness, I didn’t think it was possible but he’s getting even hotter! …Unbelievable! John McEnroe has become too hot to handle… he’s the surface of the sun! JOHN MCENROE IS BECOMING A BEAM OF LIGHT! HE HAS SUCCESSFULLY TRANSCENDED SPACE AND TIME!”

Sometimes I wish I was Spanish or Italian, so that when existence gets too beautiful I could put the back of my hand against my forehead and sigh.

“Trailblazer. Rebel. Icon.”

Just for once could they make a movie about someone who just sorta goes with the flow. A real rule follower. Someone who finds her lane and stays in it. “This one goes out to the people who color inside the lines.”

“Be careful what you pray for.”

So this person… prayed to be crucified upside down? Assuming that’s what’s happening here? That seems like a strange thing to pray for. I love the upside down crucifixion, by the way, it really shows humanity’s capacity for creativity and constant self improvement. “Someone nailed to a giant board in which they’re forced to weigh constant exertion against suffocating? NOT HORRIBLE ENOUGH. DO IT UPSIDE DOWN.”

There should be a movie about the trailblazing dreamer who first crucified someone upside down and disrupted the entire crucifixion industry.

Hot damn, I have no idea what this movie is about, but that it is a fantastic poster. And I’m pretty sure it wants to f*ck me.

I also dig these hologram-style posters for the Flatliners remake.

*extremely Joe Pesci voice* “I like these Flatliners posters. One hologram goes dis way, one hologram goes dat way, and dis guy’s sayin’ ‘Ay, whaddya want from me?'”

I like that there is now an entire genre of film based on weird dads driving their ginger kids out to the desert. The desert is the worst place for gingers!

This is the weirdest poster. All the dudes in it look like they’re checking out her ass, but the eyelines don’t really match up. Also it looks like it’s There’s Something About Mary for moms.

By the way, I just found out this was directed by Nancy Meyers’ daughter, Hallie Meyers-Shyer, which is exactly how I always imagined Nancy Meyers’ daughters would be named. I like to imagine she has an entire brood of punny, hyphenated rhymes. “This is our youngest daughter, Taylor Mai Tai Meyers-Tryer, and our son, Allie Cat Tyler Meyers-Briar. Have a seat in the foyer while we perform our welcome dance.”

Oh God please no. If I have to watch one more slow-motion tracking shot of white people letting loose set to ’90s rap I will cut my own head off and kick it at the police. Where the f*ck is Mila Kunis supposed to be standing? Why is Santa in a plaid basement? Who gave Susan Sarandon a cowboy hat? I hate this and I hate you.

Damn you, crows! Get outta my jacket!

The choice to give Killing Gunther an ’80s VHS-style poster was probably an easy one, in a good way. I like the explosions.

Oh hell yeah. My favorite genre of European film is Guiseppe have a-many sexy day dream about alla the bellissima lady. The best part is when Giuseppe sigh longingly and rest his cheek onna his palm. Mamma mia, so many a-belissima lady, whatta Guiseppe guana do.”

Greta Gerwig wrote and directed a movie with a poster that looks like a drawing in a Wes Anderson movie. Can’t wait to read the internet comments about this one. Jk I’m going to unsubscribe all, and specifically mute anything that contains the word “hipster.”

This is a badass Lego Ninjago Movie poster in the style of whatever those Japanese prints that look like this are called.

If I cover up the Jon Hamm part of this poster and just look at the title and steely font, I can pretend this is a robot rom-com about Optimus Prime’s kooky sister Marjorie trying to find love in the big city. She trips a lot because she’s relatable.

There’s always a pretty heavy sexual undercurrent to My Little Pony imagery, but this latest batch of posters seems especially blatant. A lot of focus on smooth haunches in this one.

And this guy is apparently male, even though he’s doing a sexily androgynous glamour shots pose that’s halfway between squeezing boobs together and showing off a pelt of ’70s chest hair.

This looks like a pony reenactment of that Kim Kardashian break the internet picture from Paper Magazine.

And here we have Chesty the Sex Parrot.

I hate my quirky family! They leave records and wine on the floor and their unorthodox lifestyles horrify the squares and grandpa doesn’t even wear both shoes.

I see this poster for, uh… Professor Marston and the Wonder Women is mimicking the Wonder Woman posters. And it’s about… uh… hmmm, let me get back to you on that.

The true story of the women behind the man behind the woman. So, like, the creator of Wonder Woman’s mistresses? Sure, why not.

Oh hell yeah, I’ve always wanted the boobs to look like two ferrets kissing.

Pyewacket, currently opening for Criss Angel on the mindfreak mega tour.

Matt Damon and Julianne Moore look great in their Stepford getups, but… is that a guy that got killed with a javelin back there? Let’s focus on that.

Sweet Jesus, that is the most dead-eyed freaky woodpecker I’ve ever seen (this is a Woody Woodpecker poster, btw). I hope he pulls off that woodpecker head and there’s a scary devil clown under there who eats the stock photo family with his sharp teeth.

Oh good, Rooney Mara is going to be sad again. That’s great. No one can express endless sorrow like the scion of preposterously wealthy football team owners. She better eat a bigger pie in this one, or like, fight a cactus in this. You gotta keep upping the ante on stunt grief. Rooney Mara is the Johnny Knoxville of sadness.