I wouldn't say that these posters tear the magic away from movies as much as they add something that I don't think the English language is quite ready to explain. A promo image for Return Of The Jedi turned a climactic clash into the shittiest Off-Broadway production that I've never seen.

20th Century Fox Tennessee Williams presents A Death Star Kind Of Night

The height of promotional images, though, as far as I'm concerned, came with the lobby card. If you liked movies, but absolutely hated knowing what movies were about, lobby cards were your jam. Very rarely were they stills from the movie. Instead, they were flamboyant poses meant to excite you about the fact that this movie...has people in it. My favorite ever is the one for Aliens, where the cast appears to be gearing up for the most badass Super Bowl halftime show in history.

20th Century Fox KICK IT.

There's not a damn thing about aliens or space or robots on there. Just steel grating and background dancers from Cameo's "Word Up" video. And maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's a surprise to get into the theater and be like "That alien just burst from that guy's chest! I thought for sure that this would be about future soldiers forced to gyrate to save the galaxy. Wow, this is almost as good as that."

But before the internet processed a thousand news stories about every casting change and every release date delay, we got novelizations. But not, like, novelizations written by people that had so much love for a particular film that they decided to write the definitive narrative about it. Sure, there were those, too, but these making-of books were written by people hired by the studio to make the production seem like it had been a flawlessly executed trail of gold and rainbow. For instance, the 1976 King Kong got one of these.

I bought this with my own money. My own stupid money.

I've written about this version of King Kong before. A big chunk of its budget was spent on a giant robot that would've been great if it had worked in the fucking slightest. The director was John Guillermin, whose The New York Times obituary lovingly includes a paragraph that is solely about his constant screaming. And even Rick Baker, the acclaimed special-effects man, was sad about the fact that King Kong looked like someone's intricate King Kong Halloween costume.

Paramount Pictures It's the thought that counts.

But you wouldn't know any of this from The Creation of Dino De Laurentiis' King Kong, by Bruce Bahrenburg, which literally starts out with an explanation of how the reporters "who have probably never seen the inside of a newspaper city room" in "tight pants emphasizing too-thick female thighs" "swoop down" on a breakfast buffet, leaving nothing but crumbs. It comes just short of capping it all off with "And the fatty fat fats farted their way through questions, because critics are stupid and should be thankful for their free pastries, the fatty fart fatties."

He then goes onto explain about how beautiful the cast is. He even describes Guillermin as looking like he wants to be back on the set, which is a really optimistic way of saying "wants to be strangling the assistant director for nearly no reason." And the whole book is like this. Every problem, no matter how self-inflicted, is a triumph of the underdog. Bruce Bahrenburg would write a bunch of these, and if he's still around when I die, I hope he writes my eulogy. "Daniel was funny and well-liked by everyone. And his date never changed her mind about prom."

Daniel Dockery "And he was super attractive and he definitely collected every Pokemon."

...and the Batmobile show up, but after Catwoman, they're just items 2 and 3 on the list of Top 10 Things Robert Urich Does Not Give An Ounce Of Shit About.

If you want to see someone excited that fiction and non-fiction are furiously 69ing, look no further than the lead in this documentary for two of the 80s Japanese Godzilla films.

He's so excited about Godzilla that he steals a Godzilla script from a stranger, and then steals the man's newspaper because the 'Zilla train aint got no brakes, ya'll. After this, he looks at the sky and screams at nothing, which is the appropriate emotional response for a guy that goes around robbing random pedestrians of their Godzilla merchandise in public. I would know.

Toho "WHAT IS MY LIIIIIIFFFFEEEEE?"

He then becomes the guy walking us through the documentary and interviewing people involved in the production, which seems like a pretty nice career move from the Godzilla-related theft job that he had eight seconds ago. He also spies on and feels up the Godzilla costume at night, before the sentient Godzilla costume scares him away. Either that, or it's a plea for help from the stuntman that the crew left trapped in the suit for the evening.

I don't want to claim to be an expert, but Hollywood could really see a resurgence if they marketed every film with "This is a great movie! You should see this movie! The wormhole is open! Fantasy and my flesh combine. AAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH."

It tries to aim at fans who want a gritty reboot of Power Rangers, fans that want a fun reboot of Power Rangers, people that don't really like Power Rangers because they think it's dumb but might go see something that has kicks in it, and people that listen to Kanye West. It's like a movie trailer for the general idea of Power Rangers movie trailers. It almost makes me miss previews like the bizarre single-minded ones Alfred Hitchcock did, which were more about Hitchcock and his syrupy drollness than whatever thriller he was shilling.

"Hell of a segue there, Daniel!" Thanks, Dad! You see, by the late 50s, Hitchcock wasn't a mere film director any more. He had a popular TV show where he made jokes almost exclusively about how funny murder is, and when you combined that with his critically acclaimed, financially successful films, you got someone who didn't just make movies, but events. Very few modern directors ever reach this level. Tarantino is there, as are the Coen brothers, and Christopher Nolan is also scrabbling up to that peak. But it's a very exclusive club, perfectly exemplified by the clout that it would've taken to create the original trailer for Psycho.

For six minutes, Alfred Hitchcock shows us what some real estate looks like. Yeah, he vaguely ties it back into the movie about stabbing that he just made, but for the most part, it's a commercial for Hitchcock's wonderful accent, which sounds like a nice blend of his heritage, two bottles of wine, and cheeks that are half full of Play-Doh. It's not a voice that multiple people have. It's a voice that you inherit when you open the old, dusty cupboard that your grandpa warned you about on his death bed.

It would be easy to assume that maybe this was an isolated incident and that the rest of Hitchcock's trailers are just random scenes assembled over orchestra music. But would the guy who had the confidence to make the Psycho trailer only do that shit once?

The trailer for The Birds basically gives us a spoken-word prequel to the actual movie. Hitchcock ironically describes all of the terrible things that man has done to birds, but whoever put together the trailer forgot about the first four minutes of that, because they splash "WHAT WAS THEIR EVIL INTENT?" across the screen. Pay attention, bro. The director of the movie goes on and on about bird attack motivation, and you just took it as "That big British guy just wouldn't shut up about eggs, when he needs to be talkin' about why these dang ol' birds are trying to eat the kids!"

And though he remains seated in it, the trailer for Marnie opens with Hitchcock descending from the studio heavens.

Universal Pictures "Good morning, peasants. Want to know about my latest picture show, do you?"

We should all be grateful that he decided to come down from his Olympus to share his movie trailer with us, and then promptly talk over the whole damn thing. Sure, the leads are beautiful and their story is engaging, but the real star of this show is an overweight British man and his arid sense of humor. And you better not fucking forget it.

It's a far cry from the glory days of movie posters, which screamed at you:

United Artists Media Group

Robert Mitchum, an actor who is most certainly drunk fist-fighting with Jesus right now, was the king of these. The Bandido poster uses "grenaded" as a verb, before it goes on to talk about women in a way that is grenadedly antiquated. And the best part about it is that it's so outlandish that "grenaded" isn't even the main selling point of the poster. It's treated like it's just another way to move. Hate flying? Grenade your way there. It's the safest way to travel. For you.

This one for Crossfire has a woman floating in an abyss of human heads and torsos, and beside that horrorscape, an argument over what the tagline should be. "'Sensational?' Shut the fuck up, Rick. If I had a bottle of whiteout, I'd fix this and shove the rest down your smelly little throat. No, it's dynamite."

RKO Pictures LLC. "I will ship you back to Kansas if you pull a stunt like that again, Rick. You worm."

Hammer, a British film studio that flooded the earth with Dracula and Frankenstein movies, didn't give a shit about whether their posters were meant to be menacing or not:

20th Century Fox

That's a tagline that gets written the moment you realize that this is about the 20th mummy movie ever made, and that people are not going to them because mummy panic is sweeping the nation. The aforementioned Dracula gets the award for best poster in history, though:

20th Century Fox

"Obviously." Hammer, you glib asshole. I know I wasn't around to truly enjoy your heyday, but I miss you regardless. Mainly because the tagline for this movie in 2017 would be "He awakens" or something. And "He awakens" isn't a tagline that you come up with when you have a sincere love of movies. "He awakens" shows up because you have decided that there will be eight of these movies, and not even God can stop you.

Daniel has a blog.

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