7 Trailers For Famous Movies That Were Absurdly Full Of S**t

There's a voiceover as well, but it's flat, uninterested, and incredibly vague. "The story of a boy, a girl, and a universe" is an accurate description of about 100 percent of all movies ever made. The whole thing meanders along until the end, when the title randomly explodes -- presumably because the rebels found out that Helvetica Bold has a vulnerable thermal exhaust port.

So that's kind of lame. Surely, they got their act together by the time The Empire Strikes Back came out, right? Nope. The first trailer for Empire was nothing but a bunch of concept art set to music.

Wow, that sucks. We should retroactively all stop watching these movies.

He introduces Citizen Kane as a "coming attraction," delights himself with some wordplay for a bit, and then adds, "speaking of attractions," and then this happens:

Like a creepy uncle, Welles goes on: "The chorus girls are certainly an attraction. But frankly, ladies and gentleman, we're just showing you the chorus girls for purposes of ... ballyhoo. It's pretty nice ballyhoo." This is another way of saying that the chorus girls do not appear in the film, and in fact have absolutely nothing to do it.

Anyway, the trailer goes on, and Welles begins introducing the real cast in increasingly ridiculous ways.

The latter half of the trailer is a little more conventional, and shows clips of characters discussing the titular Kane, making both him and the movie sound somewhat interesting. But it's hard to get past that opening stretch, and the knowledge that possibly the greatest American film of all time sold itself using a montage of screwball zaniness not seen in a single frame of the movie proper.

Let's go back even further, to The Wizard Of Oz. There are a lot of ways you could advertise The Wizard Of Oz -- glorious Technicolor shots, one of its award-winning songs, an extended clip of a person melting. But MGM didn't go with any of that with the trailer it ran at the famed Chinese Theatre in Hollywood. Instead, it was a bit more ... cryptic.

This is bizarre for a few reasons. On a basic marketing level, why would you advertise your color movie with splashes of grey and black? Also, the tagline "What is 'Oz'?" doesn't make any sense, seeing as how the film was based on The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz, a popular children's book that was almost 40 years old by that point. And most importantly, where are all the flying monkeys? How do you have a movie with flying monkeys and not put those front and center every chance you get?

That's right. They turned it into a romantic comedy. All the action scenes are muted or outright missing, and in their place we get a lot of footage of Katie Holmes.

The editing bends over backwards to play up the relationship between Bruce Wayne and Holmes' character. There's a short clip of Bruce raising his glass to make a toast, intercut with a picture of Holmes. The effect makes it seem as though he's toasting his love interest -- and not mock-drunkenly berating his friends so they'll leave in disgust and allow him to brawl with a gang of killer ninjas.

And the few jokes that were genuinely in the movie are now accompanied by digital zooms and sound effects.

Most damningly of all is the voiceover, which dares to claim: "He fights for family, and lives for love."

That is not what Batman does. He fights because he's kind of crazy and hates criminals. And what does he live for? Punching criminals. Love is incidental.

Because the trailer for Toys was nothing. Literally nothing.

That's it. They decided to just send Robin Williams into a large field to tell some jokes.

Even calling these "jokes" is a stretch. Williams mainly seems to be improvising, riffing on the fact that the movie is called Toys. Here's a bit called The Toyminator:

And here's Toyz N The Hood:

There's also an extensive bit wherein Williams speaks fake Japanese, one set of buck teeth away from being a hideously embarrassing Mickey Rooney character.

Sure, Williams was a big star, so it makes sense to have him be the focal point of the trailer. But why not show something which gives the slightest indication what the movie Toys is actually about? Something like ...

OK, maybe the empty field was the winning play here.

Maximum Overdrive is the only killer truck movie that Stephen King ever directed. Also, the only movie he ever directed.

Adapted from one of King's short stories, the film is about a world in which cars have suddenly come to roaring, vengeful life. But that doesn't matter at all. The important thing is that King was famously "coked out of [his] mind" while making the movie. And also, it would seem, while making the trailer. Try to watch this without getting a contact high:

It's King, lurking in the shadows, really intensely telling us how great his movie is. Interwoven with that, as if you needed more, are a semi-coherent collection of clips from the movie itself. Trucks mutilating people, a cacophony of wordless shrieking, and this guy getting hit in the dick with a soda can:

But really, this trailer is all about the master of horror Stephen King and his wide, unblinking eyes. Of particular interest is his claim that if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself.

Miracle On 34th Street is the cherished story of a possibly crazy old man who proves himself to be Santa Claus thanks to the laziness of post office employees. But that's not how the studio sold it.

The trailer tells a strange meta-narrative about a studio executive who's unhappy with the trailer for Miracle On 34th Street. It's like the kind of thing Charlie Kaufman would have come up with if he accidentally traveled back in time to save Christmas.

Anyway, even though this executive hasn't seen the movie, he doesn't think the trailer is accurately representing it. So he goes around the studio lot questioning everyone who has seen it.

Finally, he watches the movie, but instead of clips from the film, we -- the real audience, let's remember -- only get to see his wildly varied reactions superimposed over each other like a terrible student art film.

The only clip they do show is the goddamn end of the movie.

And the reason for all of this chicanery? The studio wanted to actively hide that Miracle On 34th Street took place at Christmas. The logic was that more people saw movies in the summer, and because they thought the movie could be a huge hit, they naturally released it, the story of motherfucking Kris Kringle, in June. Even the movie's poster goes out of its way to shrink Santa into the smallest possible visual space.

J.M. McNab co-hosts the pop culture nostalgia podcast Rewatchability, which can also be found on iTunes. Follow him on Twitter @Rewatchability.

You know all those facts you've learned about psychology from movies and that one guy at the party who says, "Actually ..." a lot? Please forget them. Chances are none of them are true. Take the Stanford Prison Experiment, the one famous psychology study people can name. It was complete bullshit. Funny story actually, it turns out that when you post flyers that say, "Hey, do you wanna be a prison guard for the weekend? Free food and nightsticks," you might not get the most stable group of young men. So join Jack O'Brien, Cracked staff members Dan O'Brien and Michael Swaim, and Psychology Professor Martie G. Haselton of UCLA as they debunk Rorschach tests, the Mozart effec,t and middle child syndrome, so soon you can be that person at the party who says, "Actually ..." Get your tickets here!

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