Worst Posters of 2011

by clementinepumpernickel

My eyes! My eyes!  They burn! Please, the pain!

It’s one of those clichés, that if you want to make it in Hollywood, you have to live in Hollywood. If you have big dreams, and want to live a life of champagne and caviar (and not pot-noodles and kestrel lager), then you have to make the move west, which is why every Starbucks barrista in LA is really a script-writer, every sobbing stripper a starlet with broken dreams.

Fucked if I know if it’s true or not — I’ve never been there. Hollywood’s a simulacrum to me,  a collage of movie scenes, tv shows, gossip from the internet, Raymond Chandler potboilers, and William Goldman anecdotes. But this idea that you have to be there to make it is the only way I can rationalise these utter turdburger movie posters, posters that look like they were designed by a slack-jawed, drug-addled drooling neanderthal with rickets, someone who only got the job because they were running low on talent in the agencies in LA and required a ‘designer’ that specialised in MS Paint. Alternatively, I can just imagine two ‘designers’ high-fiving over who could get paid the most for the worst designed movie poster they could come up with, before hitting the beach for a spot of Bud-lite and beach volleyball. Fuckers.

Anyway, my eyes have bled. So I’m going to make yours bleed as well.

Words fucking fail me. Despite Margaret Thatcher being an anathema to a sizeable portion of the British population, with people gleefully planning what sorts of parties they’re going to have when she dies, some corporate suit thought that it would be a good idea to make a movie about her life. And to make matters worse, they produce this poster, which looks like a porn parody of a movie about Thatcher, as if she’s about to find herself in the middle of an upper class bukkake. More cream cheese or egg nog, Ma’am?

This isn’t even the worst Justin Bieber poster, but I think the designer of this poster had a sense of humour about the  tweenie heartthrob. We can just imagine the cheeky designer cackling with glee as he popped the lens flare between Mr Biebers legs, suggesting that very soon we would find out whether or not Bieber was a soulless robotic automaton manufactured by Hollywood, or a human suffering from punctured lungs as the truck screaming up behind him destroyed his plucked and manicured little body. Never say never, Justin, never say never.

I have no comment for W.E. other than A.B.O.R.T.I.O.N.

I guess technically this poster is fine, design-wise, though I imagine the designer of this effort crying, forcing down the cheap vodka as his trembling hand assembled the photoshop layers for this ‘movie’, before decorating his office with his own brains. Designers: suicide is never the answer. No one saw the poster, let alone the movie.

This looks like a fan-made poster for a Christian movie, and Greg Kinnear looks like he’s doing Peter Pan in a pantomine while holding his testicles, cheerfully oblivious to the fact that beneath his sparkling grin is another version of himself being crushed to death inside a fifteen foot bible. I wonder if it’s Deuteronomy or Leviticus that’s crushing him to death? Also they could have spent money getting a proper photograph of Ms Connelly instead of using a Polaroid from 1985.

My five year old child looked at this poster and asked me “Daddy, why is that poster so bad?”, and I had to reply, “sweetheart, this poster proves there is no God, and when we die, we are eaten by maggots.’ I can still hear her crying now, and it’s all Adam Sandler’s  and the poster designer’s fault.

What’s that sound? That’s George Lucas laughing, as he wipes his arse with the stack of one hundred dollar bills that we gave him when we bought the Star Wars Blu Rays. It’s okay, he knows he’s going to get more: the Clone Wars team have been told to bring Darth Maul back just in time for the 3D release of The Phantom Menace next year. Lucas doesn’t even need to pay the recently retired Drew Struzan for a fully painted re-release poster, just get some yes-man to bang together some clip-art from the Lucasfilm files in order to assemble the poster above. Whoa, Artoo, this is tense.

 

The designer of these posters clearly had a concept, an idea of what he or she wanted to do. I don’t understand why they didn’t realise, when looking at the finished product, that THESE ARE SHIT AND THE IDEA DIDN’T WORK. If I had submitted these X-Men posters as a teenager to the graphic design module of my art class, I would have gotten a big fat F, for FAILURE. Also, the wheelchair bound Xavier has a picture of his younger self peering out from the penile region, an area of his anatomy that I assume no longer stands to attention. It’s as if the the older Xavier longs for the days when he used to get erections sitting at the back of a bus.

In a year of dreadful movie posters, New Year’s Eve is the worst, a poster that makes me want to vomit every time I look at it. As the world’s economy goes into meltdown, so this movie comes out, advertised by a poster literally dripping with gold. I imagine some Afghan orphan crying as he burns this poster and accepts the call for jihad. The makers of this movie — you’ve played right into the terrorists hands. Do you see, do you see what you’ve fucking done? I hate you for hating America, and I hate the ‘designer’ of this fucking poster.

Fincher’s Dragon Tattoo poster’s have made it into many ‘best of 2011’ lists, but I think they are just bland. Daniel Craig looks like he is about to kidnap a Suicide Girl in the top one, and looking at the lower one, I get irritated in the way I used to in 1995, when I realised I had developed a film that I had used twice by accident. I would have rather had a stark profile photograph of Rooney Mara with her Mohican in the lower one, but I guess they had to squeeze Daniel Craig in there to get the middle aged women demographic panting. (Still, at least these posters aren’t a complete montage of floating heads.)

The Captain America one sheet  — not featured here — of Chris Evans/Cap looking moody while holding his shield has made many people’s lists of the best movie posters of 2011, but I think it’s merely perfunctory, being neither particularly daring nor beautiful. But when compared to these two tie-dyed floating heads monstrosities, it’s pure gold.

I’m amazed that anyone looked at these posters and was enticed to go to the movie, as they’re too busy, and shot through with that random flame shit that Hollywood has loved ever since the first Transporter movie poster. The top one looks like one of Captain America’s soldier friends thought it was hilarious to light one of Cap’s farts, not realising that this super-soldier farted super-methane, therefore burning them all to death.

The following two posters are how I think a Cap movie poster could have been done: one is a fan-made; the other a comicbook cover from Adi Granov:

How Cap Could Have Been Done 1

How Cap Could Have Been Done 2

Phew!  Bitching over. Once I’ve had a lie down and a cry, I’ll post my favourite movie posters of 2011.

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