A THOUSAND WORDS: The Art of the Movie Publicity Still

A lovestruck Jane Fonda leaves her mark on a photo of lanky basketball star
 Anthony Perkins to publicize her film debut in Tall Story (1960) 

There really ought to have been a special Academy Award category devoted to the creative artists behind the Classic Hollywood studio publicity still. Tasked with capturing the essence of an entire motion picture via a single photographic image, the resourceful, creative, obviously twisted minds responsible for these memorably dynamic, sometimes downright weird publicity photoshoots were the unsung geniuses of movie marketing. The overlooked masters of visual shorthand.

Unlike traditional movie stills, those on-set, taken-in-the-process-of-filming production photos displayed in movie theater lobbies depicting movie scenes from vantage points approximating the cinematographer's POV—the Hollywood publicity still shares no such allegiance to reality. 

This bafflingly cheery publicity still for the noirish melodrama Sunset Blvd (1950) suggests that perhaps Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson) did indeed wind up joining fiance Artie in rainy Arizona.

Used as flexible, all-purpose tools of movie marketing and promotion (poster art, press books, programs, sheet music, fan magazines, newspaper blurbs) publicity stills can be anything from glamour merchandising to conceptual flights of fancy. The scope of what a publicity still could be was so broad, there didn't appear to be many rules that had to be adhered to. So long as cast members were dressed in character, it seemed the sky was the limit as to what the photo itself could be. Art and commerce collide in images that run the gamut from cheesecake to cheesy. Whether utilizing posed tableaus to recreate dramatic sequences from a film, or as stylized evocations of exploitable narrative themes, at their best, they stimulate interest by honing in on the essence of a movie. At their worst (i.e., most fun) they are kitschy, laughably misguided headscratchers capable of achieving almost surreal levels of overwrought theatrical intensity.

And the world's all the better for it.

Here are a few of my favorites: 

Double Trouble

In this dramatized publicity still for Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958) Jimmy Stewart (or a broad-beamed stand-in) is faced with an embarrassment of riches when it comes to the number of available Kim Novaks at his disposal for possible strangulation.  

Joan Crawford, about to get all up in that ax in the thriller Strait-Jacket (1950)

One of the oldest and most enduring of the standard movie publicity poses is the "dramatic clinch" shot. Here ratcheting up the sex and suspense while eyeing an unseen menace are (l. to r.): Robert Montgomery and Audrey Totter in Lady in the Lake (1947), John Saxon and Sandra Dee in Portrait in Black (1960), and mononymous ice-skating star Belita and Barry Sullivan in Suspense (1946).

Why, I oughtta...

A looming Claudia McNeil gives vent (somewhat unconvincingly) to her maternal frustration while a distracted Sidney Poitier strikes the universal "I've got a pain in my tum tum" pose for A Raisin in the Sun (1961).

Standing in the Shadows

Fretful Doris Day and her phone-accommodating flip hairdo are unaware of the threat lurking in the backlit doorway in this intense publicity shot for Midnight Lace (1960). Meanwhile, Patty Duke ponders how far the mighty and self-centered have fallen while supervised by a shirtless symbol of her degradation in this artfully posed promotional still for Valley of the Dolls (1967) that ultimately made it into the U.S. one-sheet poster art.

This publicity still for the overheated "sweat & sweet-tea" domestic melodrama Hot Spell (1958) is pretty much on the nose in capturing what this movie is all about. It's a safe bet that whatever is suggested to you by this image of an anguished Anthony Quinn and solicitous Shirley Booth...is exactly what you're going to get.

"We're all in our private traps."

The stagy theatricality of these two frames-within-a-frame compositions may inspire giggles, but they also offer a healthy dose of mystery and plenty of visual appeal. Skeevy-looking John Ireland will have you wondering whether he's breaking in or out in I Saw What You Did (1965). And the ambiguous expression on the face of poodle-cut cutie Peggy Ann Garner could be that of either the spider or the fly in this sticky web image for Black Widow (1954).

There's Something About an Empty Chair

The better to conceal its surprises, advance publicity stills for Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) were intriguingly vague exercises in misdirection. The stars were posed in groupings and compositions designed to give the right, wrong impression. Here, decades before Clint Eastwood's GOP senility stunt, an empty chair holds dominant visual sway while a correspondingly wooden John Gavin protectively embraces apprehensive co-stars Vera Miles and Janet Leigh.

In a welcome change of pace, comedy pair Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis are the ones quivering and quaking as they seek shelter behind lovely Lizabeth Scott in Scared Stiff (1953)

Ain't We Got Fun 

Publicity stills for musicals and comedies are all about communicating movement, excitement, and lightheartedness. Thus, gag poses, broad mugging, and beaming stars engaged in wacky shenanigans are the order of the day. Here, jazz-handed Gene Kelley and Debbie Reynolds do-wacka-do & vo-do-de-o-do to a fare-thee-well for  Singin' in the Rain (1952). Next to them are "teenagers" Ann-Margret and Bobby Rydell getting high for Bye Bye Birdie (1963). 

An outtake from a publicity photo shoot for Rosemary's Baby (1968) that wins major points for that Woolworth's baby buggy and Mia Farrow's really-not-all-that-into-it emoting.

No, not here

Something about this picture of Wendell Corey and Joan Crawford for Harriet Craig (1950) feels a little off (her head position and body placement look all wonky). Otherwise, it's a classic, standard publicity pose signifying romantic melodrama.

Peek-A-Boo

Academy Award-winning actor Jose Ferrer made his directing debut with The Shrike (1955), a noirish domestic melodrama that keeps tripping over its casual misogyny. As star and director, Ferrer's fondness for gifting himself numerous closeups in the film is mirrored in this striking pose that finds a partially obscured, non-smiling June Allyson clinging, raptor-like to her hunk with the hangdog expression. For all the drama of this image, it's the band-aid on Allyson's hand that draws my attention.   

Hip Huggers

The time-honored "leg cling" pose of fantasy art and pulp paperbacks tends to look even more absurd when rendered in the flesh. And flesh is just one of several points of variance between these publicity stills. On the left, middle-aged alpha Gary Cooper looks ready to take on the world for evening-gowned clinging vine Patricia Neal in The Fountainhead (1949). On the right, clothing-challenged married couple Claire Wilbur and Gerald Grant (standing) agree that three's company, provided kneeling neighbor Calvin Culver is ready to make room for daddy in Radley Metzger's Score (1973).

Unhand me, you brute

Burl Ives tries to reason  with Tony Perkins in Desire Under the Elms (1958)

If ever there was a woman who could get a guy to simultaneously lose his pith helmet and throw his chukka boots in the air, it's leggy Paula Prentiss. In this top favorite publicity still, six foot five Jim Hutton willingly succumbs to Prentiss' five foot ten charms to promote Where the Boys Are (1960).

Two Triangles Make a Parallelogram 

Well, the conflict in The Heiress (1949) isn't really a romantic triangle so much as a case of 19th century cockblocking, but you get the idea. However, what the oozing-with-acrimony photo of Harry Belafonte, Dorothy Dandridge, and Joe Adams for Carmen Jones (1954) has in common with the icy arrangement of Montgomery Clift, Olivia de Havilland, and Ralph Richardson below, is that each publicity still attempts to create dramatic tension by not having any two people in the frame looking in the same direction. 

Jim Hutton and Jane Fonda again, this time appearing in what might be looked upon as the perfect,  quintessential movie publicity still. It does everything a marketing movie still is supposed to do. From the costuming, poses, props, and actors' expressions, you don't have to know anything about Tennessee Williams' Period of Adjustment (1962) to look at this photo and instantly know everything. One image says it all. 

I leave you with this terrific shot from a publicity photo shoot with Jessica Walter and Clint Eastwood that ultimately led to the creation of the poster art for Play Misty for Me (1971). A photo whose comic artificiality stands as a great reminder of all the illusion, fantasy, and magic that's sold to us by the movies. No wonder they call Hollywood The Dream Factory.

D. Kucharski submitted this odd Daddy Dearest-style publicity still of Spencer Tracy looking a little too into spanking Elizabeth Taylor for the Vincente Minnelli comedy Father of the Bride (1950). 

Blogger Poseidon submitted this Grand Hotel-style publicity still for The Poseidon Adventure (1972). A leg-centric, all-star cast grouping that serves up 3 variations on the "dramatic clinch" pose. As with all the photos on this blog, you can click on them to enlarge. That way you can get a better look at Carol Lynley (ironically, the film's most hysterical character) failing to get into the spirit of things by joining her castmates in looking fearful. Then there's Eric Shea forgetting that his life is supposed to be in peril and presenting his best "grade school picture day" smile. And at the top, like the star on a Christmas tree, we have Gene Hackman's unfortunate male bouffant.

B. Zwinge submitted this walking-on-air image of what I initially thought to be hyper-tan mannequin George Hamilton and a little girl. It is indeed Hamilton, but said little girl is 24-year-old Sandra Dee. This Stride-Rite shoe ad of a publicity still is for the unwatchable 1967 sex "comedy"  Doctor, You've Got to be Kidding! 

L. Puck submitted this pic of Barbara Stanwyck snarling and literally dressed to kill (or at the very least disfigure) for the western The Furies (1950). 

Copyright © Ken Anderson   2009 - 2021

DON'T LOOK NOW 1973

There is nothing like a good scare at the movies. I don't mean those jarring, throw-your-popcorn-in-air, dig-your-nails-into-your-partner's-arm, moments (ah, sweet memories of Wait Until Dark). As fun as they can be, those moments are over much too swiftly. What I refer to are those far more satisfying, lasting feelings of intensifying disquietude that overtake you the moment a movie starts to touch upon an anxiety or sense of dread that runs deeper than mere surprise in the face of the unexpected. Those moments when the passive role of observer — the moviegoer's emotional safety valve—give way to the more interactive role of the projected participant. Suddenly, you're relating to the film on a visceral level, and all the while an electric current running through you is taking great delight in your being brought to such a vulnerable state of apprehension by mere flickering images projected on a screen.  

It happened once when I was a kid and saw Rosemary's Baby and it happened again as an adult with Nicolas Roeg's Don't Look Now. an opaque, atmospheric thriller that proves when it comes to scary stories, it's all in the telling.

  Julie Christie  as  Laura Baxter

  Donald Sutherland  as John Baxter

Hilary Mason as Heather, the blind woman with "second sight"

  Clelia Matania as Wendy

An off-season assignment to restore a decaying church in Venice Italy affords architect Donald Sutherland and wife Julie Christie the opportunity to leave behind mournful memories associated with their English country home—the site of a recent tragedy--the accidental drowning death of their young daughter. However, Venice in winter, a shuttered city blanketed in gray skies, desolate streets, and half-empty cafes and hotels, is so grim and foreboding it's hard to imagine a less suitable place to try to overcome depression. A feeling further intensified by the city being beset by a string of grisly, unsolved murders. With the “chance” meeting of a pair of eccentric elderly sisters, one blind and claiming to have a psychic connection with the deceased child, a chain of strange and uncanny events is triggered...events as labyrinthine and dark as the streets of Venice themselves.

                              The unforeseeable foreseen.
                              A sense of something not being right.
                              An accident. A premonition. A fate.

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM

What one considers scary is as subjective a designation as what one considers to be funny, so I'm aware my claim of Don't Look Now being one of the scariest movies I've ever seen is not the same thing as saying it's a scary movie. I'm certain that for many its premise and execution are far too leisurely and bloodless for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre crowd, and the label of "arty" would not be baseless in describing both its structure and visual style. But for whatever reason or whatever chord it struck, this darkly mysterious merge of the rational and paranormal just scared the bejesus out of me when I first saw it. And continues to do so even today.

Venice in Peril
A sign calling attention to the endangered status of Venice architecture also 
alludes ominously to the serial killer terrorizing the city.

PERFORMANCES
I claim no objectivity when it comes to Julie Christie. To the head-scratching bewilderment of my partner, who thinks she's fine enough but nothing to rave about, I find her to be an intelligently resourceful actress who brings an air of emotive conviction to everything she does. And it certainly doesn't hurt that she is a stone knockout, to boot. Her matter-of-fact naturalness proves an essential asset in a film such as this, lest her character be made to appear hysterical or unbalanced. Donald Sutherland underplays so well (usually, anyway) that the skill of his performances are often overlooked. In Don't Look Now he is at his relaxed best, making his character a believable skeptic in the face of the fantastic. Watch the play of emotions over his face as his character tries to sort out the mystery that his life has become. It's just the kind of in-the-moment urgency that is lacking in so many suspense films. Sutherland seems to be right with us, the audience, not a step ahead nor a step behind. I think he's fantastic here.

The much-discussed graphic sex scene between Christie and Sutherland is but one of many moments of genuine affection displayed between the couple. Moments that invest the film with a real sense of the pain of loss.

THE STUFF OF FANTASY

There's a chilling sequence in which the couple venture out at night, looking for a restaurant they've heard about. The dark streets and alleys prove an insurmountable maze and they become lost and eventually separated. In the midst of this, an unearthly cry is heard and something terrifying is half seen. This scene just had my pulse racing. It is a brilliant bit of  cinematic tension.

Things only half seen and half heard.

THE STUFF OF DREAMS

The film's title is really splendid. No matter how you say it, literal or ironic, whatever you think it means, whatever punctuation you add, or wherever you place the emphasis; it remains 100% appropriate to the film's themes. It speaks of warning, apprehension, sight, and danger. All elements of the film evocatively rendered in the recurring perception motifs of eyes, watching, seeing, and reflecting.

A woman without sight watches.

The city is full of windows but no one sees the murderer.

A child drowns because no one is watching.

Much of  Don't Look Now concerns itself with the concept of perception. Most certainly self-perception (Sutherland's character's fatal flaw is ignoring his own sixth sense) and awakening to the danger inherent in not heeding signs of warning, not being watchful, not seeing, not looking. 

Don’t Look Now is one of those movies so rich in content that it yields dividends with each re-visit. This brief insert shot reveals details of Donald Sutherland's nightstand: a photo of his children with the drowned daughter's face obscured. A glass of water with a symbolically significant red base. A paperback copy of Der Stellvertreter (subtitled, A Christian Tragedy) by Rolf Hochhuth - a play alleging the Catholic Church turned its back on (failed to heed, refused to see) the warning signs of The Holocaust. Playing further into the themes of not looking and paying little heed, in a later scene, a Catholic Bishop pondering the violence in the world wonders aloud if perhaps God has "other priorities" or perhaps "we have stopped listening."

A thriller in every sense of the word, Don't Look Now is one of those rare suspense films that doesn't lose its punch after it's revealed its mystery. Indeed, that's precisely the point when more questions are likely to spring to mind. Whatever level it's approached by -- a mood piece, a study of grief, a psychic mystery, a ghost story -- Don't Look Now delivers as a chilling, remarkably effective, and atmospheric suspenser that's as much a treat for the eyes (Venice has never looked more hauntingly beautiful) as the imagination. But keep your eyes peeled.

BONUS MATERIAL

Don't Look Now theatrical trailer:

Copyright © Ken Anderson    2009 - 2011