Tales of a Cinesthete

The next set of postings will be about a group of film posters and film poster designers/artists linked by a particular period as well as a particular country. Given Hollywood films’ dominance around the world, some of the film posters take on Hollywood films and provide very surprising and striking interpretations that breathe a different thematic layer that goes beyond the films – even, perhaps, making the film much more enticing and interesting than they actually are.

Japan, Cuba, Italy, Poland and the Czech Republic are the major focus. The film posters range from playful to incredibly dramatic, some of which makes you wonder if the designer/artist saw a completely different version from the rest of the world to have arrived at such a design. Again, thinking about the kind of visual and thematic relationship that the posters create with the film – or even against an established reputation and take on the film – constitute the fun and challenge of engaging with these works of art (yes, I wrote “works of art”). For some, I’ve not seen the films, but I find them captivating enough to share and talk about them.

Over the course of getting to know the work of these graphic designers/artists, naturally I’ve come to have some favourites.  I may not know much about the graphic designer/artist  and his/her biography, but their film poster design suffices for now to catch and sustain my attention. Like I said before, there’s a lot of material to go through, so much that I have little to say other than first impressions on the film posters themselves.

Zéro de conduite (Jean Vigo, 1933). Poster design by Mitsuo Ogasawara.

First up: Japan.

It’s rather embarrassing, but Japanese film poster designers/artists are the least known in my “repertoire.” The limited research I’ve been able to do so far with regards to the four designers/artist I’ve come across, with the exception of the first - Tadanori Yokoo, Ogasawara, Keiko Kimura and Yoko Komura – led to little to no information. I’m certain that there are more to discover. We’re talking about Japan, for pete’s sake.

For now, let’s content ourselves with some works to whet the appetite.

After going through more than a dozen film posters designed by Ogasawara (no first name as far as I can gather), I found this one of  Jean Vigo’s film, Zéro de conduite. The majority of his or her designs didn’t strike me, to be quite honest. On the whole, they take the form of having a still from the film, around which the text organises itself in an unassuming way. This one on the right was by far the most…interesting.

I’m not too keen on a strong reliance on film stills as materials to create a design. I realise the point is to sell the film, but there are many ways to do so without images from the film.

Le mépris (Jean-Luc Godard, 1963). Poster design by Yoko Komura.

For example, one of my favourite film posters I’ve discovered so far is Yoko Komura’s design for Jean-Luc Godard’s Le mépris. Anyone who has seen the film knows the prominence of the colour red throughout the film, from producer Prokoch’s red sportscar to the red sofa in Paul and Camille’s apartment and Camille’s red towel. And anyone who has seen the film knows that the long sequence in Paul and Camille’s apartment is the heart of the film, where Paul and Camille traipse through doorways, take respective baths, while they discuss going to Capri, their marriage, and other things.

I appreciate Komura’s decision to center the design on a red-on-red deal, with the red sofa and red towel – as well as the red lettering for the film’s title – as well as on this pivotal apartment sequence. Komura’s interpretation of Brigitte Bardot is less the conventional sex symbol (despite the towel as wraparound) than a child-like, vulnerable, yet look-you-straight-in-the-eyes kind of woman. After all, she gets top billing.

I also love the detail of Paul’s character on the right side of the poster, abstracted while in the process of tying his shoe. He’s barely perceptible at first glance, because of the nearly abstract lines to denote his body and the light, grey colour given to him. All in all, a simple design, but quite wonderful.

L'année dernière à Marienbad (Alain Resnais, 1961). Poster design by Keiko Kimura.

I also like the work of Keiko Kimura, the little I’ve seen. Her design for Alain Resnais’ L’année dernière à Marienbad is even quite similar to Komura’s in terms of approach. Kimura decides to stick with the film’s black-and-white and interpret the key characters, shapes and landscapes that constitute the film’s labyrinth. It’s quite serious in tone, due in part to the black-and-white, which gives the overall design a kind of harshness. Its seriousness is also due to the rigidity of the lines of objects and bodies.

What makes this poster avoid being completely flat and boring – admittedly, it’s not that great of a design – is the jutting plant with pointy leaves to the right side of the poster. The plant’s leaves appear to be screeching, which reminds me of the sometimes jarring portions of the film’s soundtrack.

I’ve come across several posters for L’année dernière à Marienbad and comparisons are always fun to make. Below are two other posters that have different takes on pitching the film.

I’ve said I’m not a big fan of designs that use film stills like a crutch. These two designs succeed a little bit in using an image from a film beyond the idea of just having it as space-filler. I like especially the choice of green-washing the image in Hans Hillman’s design.

L'année dernière à Marienbad (1961). Artist unknown.

L'année dernière à Marienbad (1961). Poster design by Hans Hillman.

Masculin féminin (Jean-Luc Godard, 1966). Poster design by Keiko Kimura.

I have to say that another of my favourite film posters so far is Kimura’s design for Jean-Luc Godard’s Masculin féminin. I think it’s totally charming, as it taps into the 1960s yé-yé bubble-gum feel (but not so much Godard’s Coca-Cola and Marx feel), the playfulness of the film’s soundtrack, and the youth of the characters. One couldn’t be more on the mark than actual yé-yé singer Chantal Goya and French New Wave poster boy Jean-Pierre Léaud as the lead actors.

What’s funny about this design is the use of colours for the lettering that would actually be more appropriate for other Godard films, say, Week-end (1967) or Pierrot le fou (1966), since Masculin féminin is in black-and-white.

Made in U.S.A. (Jean-Luc Godard, 1966). Poster design by Keiko Kimura?

Last but not least is the work of Yokoo Tadanori, the so-called “Japanese Andy Warhol” – which really doesn’t say much and is rather unfair for both artists. He’s been given that title since he represents the forefront of Japanese Pop Art. He’s remained at the forefront of Japanese Pop Art since the 1960s, after making a splash in the art world with the poster below as part of a joint exhibition.

This poster is rather autobiographical, albeit so with tongue-in-cheek, I think: on the bottom left is a picture of Yokoo at age 1 1/2. Of course, splattered across the top portion is the artist’s name, from which morbidly hangs a young man. Towards the center bottom is a phrase, “Having reached a climax at the age of 29, I was dead,” which makes it even more autobiographical because of the “I.” Aside from all of these details, there are formal characteristics in this early poster that have become Yokoo trademarks: the image of the rising sun and its rays, the kind of psychedelic colour palette, the collage/montage, all of which I just love. What’s most striking for me is the general symmetry of his poster design, as if they were personal Rorschach tests; you could fold up this poster and find that it’s a very balanced design. Well, you don’t even have to fold it up to see its symmetry.

Tadanori Yokoo/I Was Dead (1965). Poster design by Yokoo Tadanori.

Similar in pattern is Yokoo’s book design for his novelist friend Yukio Mishima. Mishima, along with filmmaker Akira Kurosawa, number among his principal artistic influences. The Mishima-Kurosawa combination is pretty striking, given each artist’s thematic preoccupation with the samurai. He took Mishima’s seppuku suicide (death by disembowelment) in 1970 quite hard, and due to other circumstances stopped working for a while.

Mishima (1966). Poster design by Tadanori Yokoo.

There is no escape; You too shall sink into hell (1973). Poster design by Tadanori Yokoo.

Calling him the “Japanese Andy Warhol” is simplifying things, but he did have in common with Warhol the attraction to both “high” and “low” culture, thematically and practically - or the bridging of the two – through his work. An example of this combination is in the poster above, for a religious magazine: sandwiched between Indian images of heaven and hell is…Marilyn Monroe. In addition, Yokoo’s work cuts across all sorts of outlets, so that working closely with avant-garde circles didn’t oppose work on/for book cover design, exhibition posters, advertisements for/in magazines, theatre/performance troupes, musicians, and department stores.

Another example of the high-low combination is the poster below, which was for a series of articles on American forces overseas. Now, you can conclude the attitude towards American presence overseas given the fact that the year was 1968. The Japanese words at the very top read, literally, “This is America!” The images that populate the poster also read literally: taking the place of Lady Liberty holding a torch (enlightenment) in one hand and a tablet of law in the other is LBJ holding an airplane in one hand and a globe in the other. America, indeed.

This is America! (1968). Poster design by Tadanori Yokoo.

As is obvious, the detail of his designs is superb. In the design that includes Monroe for the religious magazine, there’s an epic sense of space and scale that reminds me of the awe that the work of some painters like Salvador Dalí or El Greco provokes.

Vive l'amour (Tsai Ming-liang, 1994). Poster design by Tadanori Yokoo.

Sadly, I’ve been able to discover only one of his film posters, which is the poster on the right. Ironically, he’s one of Japan’s most prolific and well-known graphic designers internationally. I’m partially inclined that I may be mistaken in assessing this poster as the work of Yokoo. At the same time, the presence of those strong vertical lines reminds me of the sun rays that appear frequently in his designs. At any rate, I think it’s a great collage, each portion (the drawn eye, the photographic images of the actors) stand individually, but together make up a face that’s smoking while crying. Vive l’amour!

Another poster that’s actually film-related is the one below, which was for a book on yakuza films. The actor who dominates the design in the bottom half is yakuza regular Ken Takakura. So Takakura, Mishima, Kurosawa, the yakuza film…sounds consistent. In fact, it’s been said that this poster was Yokoo’s “fan letter” to Takakura.

It’s a great design, using the proverbial images associated with the yakuza as well as Takakura’s films that deal with them. To the left and right are titles of Takakura’s films. The top center is the hand with a severed pinky, hence the title, which signifies an act of loyalty on the part of a yakuza towards his boss. The bottom left has a card from the hanafuda card game, often played by yakuza.

The Ballad to a Severed Little Finger (1966). Poster design by Tadanori Yokoo.

Up next: Italy.