The Last Exorcism
It’s Cirque du Soilel by way of Regan MacNeil! Okay, actually I think this poster is creepy. A touch “on the nose” maybe, but it’s hard for a little indie horror flick to get noticed, so if you have to get all loud and crucifix-y with your promotional art … so be it. Besides, the target audience for this movie isn’t going to be bothered by the sight of a demonically twisted chick limboing under our lord and savior; no, the thing that will give most people the willies here is the invocation of Eli Roth.
Though I don’t count myself among their number, there is a large part of the horror community that would very much like to see Mr. Roth subjugated to his own hostel-based terrors; despite having made only three films, Eli Roth is the official wearer of the “Horror Filmmaker Horror Fans Love To Hate” novelty t-shirt. I understand that most of this animosity stems from the fact that Eli Roth is, well, kind of a douchebag. However, I think it’s important to separate the Man from the Work and – as far as work goes – the Roth Oeuvre has been by and large pretty great.
Cabin Fever, I’ll admit, was just okay, (Ed.: Cough! Cough!) but I am an enthusiastic booster of the Hostel films, which I feel have unjustly been relegated to the “torture porn” ghetto despite containing more social commentary than a drive-time programming block of NPR. (Check out the Camp’s quite-positive reviews Here and Here II.)
Eli Roth should not be forgiven, though, for the now-infamous “Demon Cock” picture from Tim Palen’s book of horror photography. That was just nasty.
But anyway, we were talking about The Last Exorcism. Yeah … Okay, see, I don’t really know anything about this movie, you know, technically. I just found the poster to be eye-catching, especially since I can never pass up an opportunity for a good Cirque du Soilel joke. I guess maybe I should go watch the trailer or something. Hang on a second.
Oh. It’s a Blair Witch take on The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Oooookay. That’s probably not a thing that needs to exist. Well, hey, at least your poster doesn’t suck!
A bunch more posters meet an untimely end, after the jump!
This is just lazy. I mean, I get that the mask is basically the sum total of the franchise’s iconography and what else are you going to put on the poster, but still … BUT STILL. There has to be a more creative avenue to venture down than simply placing the mask up against a wall, photographing it, and then going out for an early lunch smug in the fact that all promotional duties for Scream 4 have been handled with a bare minimum of effort.
Seriously, I’m the laziest, most slacker-esque person on the planet – I wouldn’t ever wear a shirt or shoes, for example, if doing so didn’t directly prevent me from buying Slurpees – and I find this poster to be almost criminally weak.
Which is a shame because I have much love for the Scream films, or as much love as one can have when you totally dig exactly 1/3 of a franchise and only tolerate the remainder. The first Scream is a classic – I trust that isn’t a controversial statement – and the other two are what happens when you try to replicate a classic. Throwing Aunt Jackie into the mix was nice, but by the time Felicity’s boyfriend was running around trying to stab people, and Jay & Silent Bob were popping in for cameos… I don’t know… it all just felt a little bit like a terrible casserole made out of yesterday’s lovingly-prepared homemade meal.
Plus, too much exposure to Neve Campbell causes cancer. It’s true! (Not true, although look what happened to Charlie Salinger).
At any rate, they’re making a new Scream movie, which Wes Craven swore he would never, ever do under any circumstances but I guess he remembered that he really likes money. So here we are. With a “a new decade” and “new rules.” I can’t even guess at how stupid this is going to be. I bet they work Facebook into it. Also Tumblr. Perhaps Skype. Was there texting in the OG trilogy? If not, I bet Scream 4 will have a shitload of texting.
Ah. I see what you did there.
Let me first say that I love Adrian Brody in a horror/sci-fi/action flick. I love him in anything, actually, because he’s a weird melted-wax man that I want to drink with until we start our own theater company, but I totally love him in a genre film because he’s got the most ugly/hot oddball energy since Vincent Schiavelli but grounded by Oscar cred and the good odor that follows anyone who’s been graced by the cameras of Wes Anderson.
He elevates mediocre projects (like a Predator reboot) into must-watch cinematic events (Ed.: Cough! Cough!). Plus, I just heart it in general when casting directors get all bonkers. Because honestly, if this movie existed in the real world, who would actually be the star? Stone Cold Steve Austin? The Rock? Maybe someone who hasn’t at one point in their lives fake-wrestled for sweaty, sleeveless ICP fans, but who is still not at all what Uta Hagen had in mind when she wrote “Respect for Acting.” Jason Statham, maybe?
But no! We get Adrien Brody! And you know who else? Topher Grace! Eric Fucking Forman is fighting a Predator in this movie. Someone’s been reading my fan-fiction!
That being said, I don’t like this poster. At all. You can muddy up the Brody all you want and point deadly laser sights at him and have a Predator peeking coyly over his shoulder like a sassy best friend, but it doesn’t make this any less of a Photoshopped collage that says, “Here are some things that are in this movie. You give us money, yes?” Let’s get creative, people!
Let’s have Adrien Brody and Topher Grace wielding Samauri swords squaring off with a Predator on top of a tree like in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon! Or maybe a Predator with three heads – a Predator head, a Brody head and a Grace head – and the body arms are shrugging like, “What a crazy situation!”
OR, Let’s have Topher Grace and a Predator snuggling under an afghan listening to Iron & Wine and Adrien Brody scowling in through a window with the tagline, “Revenge is the ULTIMATE Predator!” Wouldn’t you pay to see that fucking movie??? Holy shit, I’d buy every ticket and stick them to my chest with popcorn butter!
I’m just going to assume that Predators is an amalgamation of all these ideas – the poster certainly isn’t giving us any clues – and when it comes out, I’ll be the one in the front row weeping with joy onto my t-shirt that’s a picture of Adrien Brody kissing Halle Berry but Halle Berry has been replaced with me giving a thumbs up.
If this doesn’t count as a horror movie, than I have been grossly misinformed about what constitutes as horror. The experience of viewing this film ALONE has the potential to make me sleep with the lights on forever and ever and ever until light doesn’t exist anymore and vampires walk the Earth.
I mean, can you imagine the kind of people that go to this sort of thing? Fucking high school theater kids that think Glee is a documentary about their life and hipsters being so ironic they turn into air quotes and the desperate and the sad and the lonely. This has the potential to be a bigger freak show than an anime convention or one of those radio contests where they make brides-to-be run a foot race for a free dress.
At the very least the collective need for attention and love will thicken up the atmosphere and choke everyone in the theater to death, making Jonestown look like a bunch of stubbed toes. And it will all go down to the strains of “You’re the one that want, ooh ooh OOH, Honey, The one that I want!!!” Christ, the homicide detective might eat his own gun.
Oh, look: the poster mentions Twitter. This has officially moved from a cinematic annoyance to a Lovecraft-ian horror. Who knew the call of Cthulhu sounded like greased lightnin’?