The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea, a.k.a. Kris Kristofferson's Enormous Gumby Legs. Those shadow-puppet hands and their disproportionately large digits, those centaur-like calves, that stern Zeus-ish expression: though ostensibly a dreamlike romance (my best guess from the not-subtle "their love will arouse you" promise at the top) with Yellow Submarine overtones, the film could be mistaken for a horror experiment, based on the nightmare-inducing curves of this monstrous pastel one-sheet. Perhaps the best clue comes from the even-creepier-than-those-of-Psycho demands listed in dangerous red at the bottom: "Like the act of love, this film must be experienced from beginning to end. Therefore, no one will be admitted after the film starts." Does this mean that one won't be sufficiently aroused if he or she misses the better-be-boner-ific opening scenes, and that, more philosophically, one shouldn't be allowed entry midway into an orgy?