First, a bit of history. Starting out in the early 1900’s simply as placards outside movie theaters listing the films being showcased within, film posters quickly began including illustrations of a film’s scenes, and with the advent of Hollywood stardom also portraits of the actors and actresses. Where the early posters were very literal representations of what the moviegoer could expect to see on screen, they later became an opportunity to tease the moviegoers by way of symbolism or suggestive imagery. The visual marketing of a film had become another creative level of the filmmaking process. And it still is. With the current need for quickly digestible promotional content on social media, the iconography of a film may be less prioritized now than it was 20 years ago, but all the more reason for you to explore and use the art of the film poster. A picture is, after all, worth a thousand words.

So what makes a great film poster? Let’s see what some of the great posters of decades past have in common.

The Clockwork Orange poster hints at the central themes of the film (good vs evil, light vs dark, danger, violence, sexuality) while much is left to the imagination. Why the triangles? Why the dagger? Why the eye? Why is Alex lurking in the shadows?

The image used for American Beauty also hints at the central themes of sexuality and desire, while the tag line suggest that not all is what it appears to be. ‘Look closer’ at what? The American dream? The rose? The naked body? Yourself?

Most of Forrest Gump unfolds as a story told by Forrest as he’s waiting for the bus, so it’s only fitting that the poster recalls the iconic bench. But the image says so much more. Many of the film’s central themes are hidden in plain sight: the loneliness, the journey, the anticipation, leaving the past behind you.

This epic poster for National Lampoon’s Vacation is all about intertextuality. The style is an homage to the film posters of yesteryear, with several of the film’s highlights depicted, but it also calls upon the viewer’s knowledge of iconic film posters like Barbarella or Conan The Barbarian to add humor and kitsch. But even with the lighthearted illustrations, the themes of the film are present: feeling powerful vs feeling inadequate, love vs lust, disaster vs triumph, patriarchy.

One of my favorite posters, the Pulp Fiction poster is as ‘meta’ as they come. The design is that of the cover of a pulp fiction novel, which Mia Wallace also happens to be reading. It’s a book in a book, that’s actually a movie. The style invokes the kind of pop-culture nostalgia that Tarantino is famed and loved for, but it’s not ‘all style no substance’ either. The image is not a still from the movie, so why is it there? It’s presenting the themes. Crime. Violence. Seduction. Pop-culture. Aah. Star Wars. An iconic poster if ever there was one. Notice a familiarity with the one for Vacation? Certain elements of the plot are hinted at, without revealing too much. Our main characters are introduced. Luke and Leia are both in white – as opposed to the darkness surrounding Darth Vader. Recognize a theme of good vs evil here? What about Luke fighting to get out of the shadow cast by his father – recurring theme in Star Wars? Oh yes. Add to that the alien landscape, the spaceships in motion and the droids trekking through the desert and you have the theme of ‘the journey’.

So there you have it, folks. Even if it’s not staring you right in the face, the best film posters will somehow hint at the themes of the film. Keep that in mind next time you sit down with your graphic designer.

If you were to mute the movie, any movie, what would be lost?

Movies are absolute visual stimulus, no matter the genre, no matter the plot. The audio tends to be secondary in our minds. While sound lends itself more to a villain’s monologue than a daring car chase through Amsterdam, both are ultimately on the chopping block. Direct exposition might stall in the silence but we still have visual cues: the performances, the aesthetic and the movement. In live theater, it’s all about the actor’s movement whereas film relies on the camera’s. This cinematic principle is called the “eye of god.” A camera takes you places you’re normally unable to go. Even more than that, this dynamic gives you insight – a camera will hold on an actress’ face far longer than we’d dare stare in real life, and in that disembodied, extended focus we observe every inch of her emotion. Now incorporate sound: her shuddered breath is agitating, the stifled sobs emotive. Sound is the sensory validator, confirming what we see is communicating what it should be. The screech of a violin announces a psychopath with a meat cleaver while a slammed door indicates an unseen entrance. Now remove those markers… something is lost but is something gained as well? Think of cinema before “talkies,” in the silent era when faces were dialogue and music was exposition. Now remove that music and there’s still a wholly visual experience there, with all types of indicators toward a story.

So can a movie exist without sound, or sound without picture? Should they be expected to? Ideally, yes.

Take last year’s Whiplash, for example. It’s literally a film about music, but there’s a silent, visual story in there. Imagine Whiplash on mute and the foundation remains intact through what we see: “An aspiring drummer vies for a spot in a formidable jazz conductor’s studio band but soon realizes the man is not only a master manipulator but an absolute sadist to boot.” You could watch the entire film, start to finish and while the sound may change or arguably enhance the overall experience, you’d take in all the information you need from the performances and gradual evolution of the cinematography.

Now, sound without picture is a different story, one we’re actually more familiar with. Audio plays have been around since the dawn of mass media – one of my favorite parts of the radio show A Prairie Home Companion is when Garrison Keillor and co. present a highly-involved skit with nothing but voice and sound. Even more than expositional narration, our ears pick up what is called “ambience” or “foley” to make sense of things. These audio principles ensure the environment of the story is communicated by noise, from a chuga-chuga-chuga at a train station to the skittish footsteps of a woman walking home during a full moon. While picture stimulates us, sound activates our visual imaginations. For example, the final scene of Pulp Fiction serves as its own audio play from the moment Jules and Vincent sit down to pancakes. By removing the picture, we hear only the ambient sounds of the diner and the dialogue of our characters, and once Ringo and Yolanda stick up the joint we are treated to tension in both the silence and raised voices that break it.

The take away from these examples and the theme at large is direction both in sight and sound. Directors should constantly be selling the story in the visuals, even beyond the structure of the script. Likewise, sound editors and mixers must strive to not only follow the visual cues but at the same time compose their own audible story between every screeching tire or ringing gunshot. If sound and sight can come together in these highly intentional ways, that’d make for movies that feed both the eyes and ears in a swell of cinematic awesomeness.