Like the Mount Rushmore of posters for movies starring minor crossover singer-actors, this weird-beard extravaganza is grandiose in its hirsute horribleness. The sweaty bandanna, Kris’s shit-eatin’ grin, those headphones connected only to each other rather than any noticeable music player—it’s smokey-mountain surreal. More confounding: if this isn’t a film about Siamese twins, where exactly are their bodies?
Any appreciable difference here, either in poster design or film?
What?! Spanish auteur Bigas Luna’s Anguish, starring Zelda Rubenstein and Michael Lerner?! From 1987? In which Poltergeist‘s own Tangina apparently collects the eyeballs of her fellow city-dwellers and glues them to her wall like a uniform key-rack? Yes, apparently before making those Spanish-language faves Ham, Ham and The Tit and the Moon, Luna roped the oft-exploited Ms. Rubenstein for this ghastly bit of business, and to add insult to injury, made her wear a ratty old shawl that in this poster takes on the weight of football shoulder padding. Unlike many of our woebegone posters of the week, this one seems to have its imdb supporters, and we won’t say we’re not intrigued, but we’re also a bit turned off by mean little Zelda’s tight-lipped stare and odd hand gestures (what is she reaching for?). Nevertheless, I’ll give the final word to a Netflix subscriber review (and no, it’s not yet available from them): “The film rapidly slides into a grade ‘Z’ horror wannabe. The little lady from ‘Poltergeist’ with the “nails on chalk board” voice hypnotizes her wimpy son into cutting out people’s eyes. I don’t know why and I don’t care. When the film begins to influence the audience in the theater, I lost it. In complete ‘Anguish’ I turned this stinker off. Please don’t mistake this for anything but a waste of film. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.” But wait, another Netflixer begs to differ: “You are not a true horror fan unless you’ve seen this movie.” Color me embarrassed.
What makes this poster a classic? It’s not the morbid-romantic title. Or the delicate, doily font. Or the instantly unappealing, oddly bespectacled couple. Or the freshly written paper of sheet music inferring a tale of artists in heat. No, it’s that massive, weirdly indented tag line: “Call someone you loved and lost a long time ago and ask them to see a movie. Maybe it’s not too late.” Say it a few times in your head. It gets funnier (er, I mean, more poignant and urgent) each time you say it. Call them now….ask them to see a movie…. it doesn’t matter which one. It could be anything. This is 1978, after all. It could be Magic. It could be Midnight Express. It could be The Boys from Brazli or The Magic of Lassie . . . just go see a movie with that lost love! It MIGHT not be too late. Check the newspaper for showtimes. And make sure you buy cheaper candy from the supermarket first so you don’t have to buy the overpriced Junior Mints at the concession.
No, I’ve never heard of If Ever I See You Again, but there’s something curious going on. That strapping male lead in the poster, who looks like a young Michael Crichton in a track suit, wrapping his arms around a grim-looking Shelley Hack, seems to be someone named Joe Brooks. Hmmm, well, lookee here, Joe Brooks is also the co-writer, producer, and director of If Ever I See You Again. The plot thickens . . . then my eye travels up to the faded all-capped font above the credit block: “In his first starring role, Joe Brooks, the man who brought you You Light Up My Life.” Eureka, it all clicks. This one fits right in with that odd subgenre of late Seventies, early Eighties films about lustful songwriters loving and losing (also including the Streisand-Kristofferson A Star Is Born, of course), often featuring horse-riding montages. As for Joe Brooks, whose next film was 1980’s Headin’ for Broadway? Royalty checks, man, royalty checks.
Bonus: George Plimpton! Bonus bonus: 3 out of 10 on imdb! Bonus bonus bonus: The only review of it I can find is on a site called “Bums Corner”. Quote:
“This movie has to be seen to be believed. It fails miserably on every level.”
Anyone have a tape of If Ever I See You Again?
How is it the movies that time forgot always seem to have the most unforgettable posters? I’m sure not to forget this one for a 1971 film called Believe in Me, which apparently is the story of Jacqueline Bisset’s crushing love affair with a life-size cardboard cut-out of Bill Hader, er I mean, Michael Sarrazin, probably absconded from some local early video store or movie theater lobby. Upon research further than my initial “wow, that poster is effing hideous” exclamation, I discovered that this film, directed by Stuart “Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo” Hagmann, is officially deemed “lost” and that, if the one imdb commenter that seems to remember the film is to be believed, apparently what was released in theaters was a crappy patchwork version of the original, “tougher” film’s footage and that of the studio-enforced reshoots (by Rocky‘s John G. Avildsen!). Evidently, this resulted in a hastily cobbled together early 70s weepie about amphetamine addiction with an incongruous happy ending—perhaps this poster, the actors of which look like they were stitched together with scotch tape, was a comment on the production process itself? That’s a pretty sharp defense, and it needs it: “life without David” might only be “existing,” but it looks like Pamela’s going to get covered in smudgy newspaper ink if she decides to stick around (imagine the dirty sex).
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