a movie poster that could've spent less time explaining itself

Welcome back to my infrequent series (some would call it "abandoned" or "not substantial enough to even qualify as a series," but let's not nitpick) in which I play Monday-morning quarterback for movie-studio marketing departments and therefore justify my existence in this universe.

Diary of a Wimpy Kid, adapted from the book series of the same name, opens today, and recently I've seen posters on the sides of buses that feature this tag line:

"IT'S NOT A DIARY, IT'S A MOVIE."

Of course it's not a diary! How stupid do you think I am, Hollywood? Nobody advertises their diaries in public. Duh!

But even if they do, they're called blogs. Or Facebook status updates. Or tweets. And they help justify our existence by letting everyone else in the universe know what we think of, you know, stuff, or how bored we are or how fat we think we are (which is the cue for the rest of the universe to say "OMG, you are so not fat!").

You could learn a lot from people like me, Hollywood. In fact, yesterday when I was trying on some new jeans that felt a little tight and I decided Levi's has really taken a nosedive in popularity, I thought, "This would so make a great movie!"

a movie poster that could've used ... well, anything but this image

What Happens in Vegas was released over a month ago, but the film's poster still haunts me.

I read a review that said the film's cinematography doesn't do Cameron Diaz any favors. Well, neither does this poster. Meanwhile, Ashton Kutcher's facial expression and body language seem to be saying, "Can you believe this girl? Is she crazy or what? Seriously, you guys." 

Kutcher studied at LIF, otherwise known as the Louder Is Funnier school of comedy. Sometimes louder really is funnier, but Kutcher is a former male model, and people like me tend to be suspicious of pretty boys who do comedy, a form of entertainment that springs from personal pain, failure, and rejection. Has Ashton Kutcher been rejected once in his entire life? Okay, maybe in 2002 he asked out Joan Collins and she said no so he had to settle for Demi Moore instead, but I doubt it. All I know is that his self-pity will never equal mine. I've got warehouses full of it, so don't even bother trying to catch up, Ashton.

Here's one more promotional picture from What Happens in Vegas:

Shudder. But so far the film's made about $75 million. Obviously, somebody's been paying to see it. And by "somebody" I mean women who are forcing their boyfriends or husbands to tag along and put up with loud but pretty comedy for 90 minutes.

a movie poster that could use fewer generalities

Similar to those posters for 2005's Waiting... and Just Friends that said, "From a producer of American Pie," the poster for Are We Done Yet? says, "From the studio that brought you Are We There Yet?" Okay, so the director of the first film in this franchise didn't come back, and neither did the writers, but Ice Cube, the star of both films, and Matt Alvarez are back as producers, so it wouldn't be out of the question for the poster to say "From the producers of Are We There Yet?"

The problem I have here is that studios make and/or distribute dozens of movies a year, so there isn't any kind of pedigree for a potential moviegoer to admire or trust in this situation. ("You mean the random executives who green-lighted Are We There Yet? also green-lighted Are We Done Yet? to plug a hole in their spring schedule? Quel genius!") Of course, it's hard to tell if the studio in question on the poster is the distributor, Columbia Pictures, or the production company, Revolution Studios, which is pretty cocky calling itself a studio and even cockier for pluralizing the word, but it does put up most of the production money for its movies. Still, it ain't a studio.

I would actually respect the poster for Are We Done Yet? if, instead of mentioning Are We There Yet?, it said, "From the studio that brought you Lawrence of Arabia." Make that leap! I dare ya! It wouldn't be a lie, after all. But if the (mini) studio in question is Revolution, then how about "From the studio that brought you White Chicks"? Yep, that's more like it. (Revolution also financed Gigli, but it's not as bad as you've heard. Sure, it's bad, but not criminally so.)

I realize I'm the only one who cares about this sort of thing. I doubt anyone who's trying to decide whether or not to see this movie on opening weekend really cares if the brain trust behind 2005's Are We There Yet? is back for the next adventure. Eight-year-olds generally don't make statements like "Yeah, I skipped X-Men 3. I mean, Brett Ratner taking over for Bryan Singer? Are you kidding? F**k you, Hollywood."

But does Are We There Yet? even need to be mentioned on the poster? Even if sequels don't put a number after the title these days to let you know which installment you're going to see, the titles of sequels are usually close enough to the original's title to let you know what's being sequelized. We've come a long way (or not) since the days of Magnum Force, Sudden Impact, etc. being the names of Dirty Harry's sequels. Even the recent Star Wars trilogy put the episode numbers and the Star Wars brand name in the title of each prequel.

Are We Done Yet? is both a sequel and a remake. No, not a sequel to a remake, like Ocean's Twelve and Thirteen. Are We Done Yet? is based on the 1948 Cary Grant vehicle Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House. Will the eight-year-olds in the audience care? No. But will they be upset if Ice Cube makes it through the entire movie without once being hit in the nuts with some sort of projectile? Absolutely. Since Columbia Pictures included at least two crotch-thwacking sequences in Lawrence of Arabia (Sir Alec Guinness suffered with such elegance), then they owe at least one to Mr. Cube. Maintain the legacy, Columbia.

a movie poster that could've used less copy editing

I trust IMDB here—the new digitally animated Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie is called, simply, TMNT.

a movie poster that could've used some copy editing

The poster for Universal's Dead Silence has this come-on line at the top: "From the writers and director and producers of Saw." What about the caterer? Same guy?

How about a simple "From the creators of Saw," Universal? C'mon, you're in a good spot here, unlike the studios that released 2005's Waiting... and Just Friends, which were both advertised this way: "From a producer of American Pie." (A producer? You mean one of the seven who were credited? Wow! I'm sold.) That sort of dirty trick doesn't really instill confidence in a potential customer.