7 Terrible Trailers For Famous Movies

Right off the bat, things aren't normal. It starts off with STAR WARS scrolling forward, like it's supposed to -- only it's not the cool logo we all know and love, but just the words printed in some editor's default typeface.

As the words painfully creep toward the screen, like an eye test in reverse, it cuts to some sort of exciting scenes from the movie. It all looks kind of rough, to be honest. The special effects in particular all look a little ropey. The blaster fire looks like gunshots -- less like a galaxy far, far away and more like, well, anywhere in the U.S., unfortunately.

And the lightsabers weren't colored in yet, making these wizened Jedi look like they were dueling with fluorescent light bulbs.

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.

It begins with Orson Welles, a big radio star at the time, talking into the world's most dramatically lit microphone.

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.

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.

A lot of times, studios release teasers for movies that haven't been shot yet by cobbling together something which sort of represents the movie. For example, Fred Claus managed to dress Paul Giamatti as Santa and let Vince Vaughn riff on the comedic possibilities of how hilarious it would be if Kris Kringle had a piece-of-shit brother. That was terrible! But at least it was something.

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.

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.

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 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.

Also check out The 6 Most Hilariously Misleading Movie Trailers and 5 Annoying Ways Trailers Trick You Into Seeing Movies.

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