This got me thinking about examples of poster art in which a star is represented in ways that depart markedly from his or her actual appearance in the advertised film. There are, of course, examples of willful abstraction, such as the great tradition of Polish movie posters, which often take key iconographic elements and distill them into simple lines and forms. For example, Bogart again, in Casablanca, for a 2009 re-release:
Is this Bogie, or Don Draper? As if Bogart's face were that sharp! This sort of abstraction replaces the iconic features of the star with a key narrative object - in the case of Casablanca, Bogie's iconic cigarette. These posters sometimes even replace the human figure's presence entirely with these objects, as in this utterly bizarre 1970s Polish poster art for Terrence Malick's first film:
But like Curry, what I'm mostly interested in are attempts at more or less realistic representation that nevertheless diverge from the star's appearance in the advertised film. Katharine Hepburn's image in poster art in the 1930s and 1940s is an interesting case study. This poster for The Philadelphia Story (1940), for example, softens her angularity just a bit, which seems appropriate given the film's own narrative containment of the challenging and often subversive personality she created in her earlier 1930s films:
But even so, this is way too generic for Hepburn -- the blank expression of the figure in the poster is light years away from the sharp inner life she projects on film. By contrast, the earlier 1936 American poster for Quality Street (1936) captured the angularity...
...but it's still not quite right. That chin is a bit too much, and the fawning upward glance doesn't really capture the strength with which Hepburn's characters gazed at their objects of desire in these films.
The French came up with a better representation of the energy Hepburn brought to her madcap 30s comedies. This art for Bringing Up Baby (1938) captures the spirit of her character even as it channels the specificity of her features into caricature. What results is a whirlwind of screwball movement:
Sometimes, though, the posters offer weird contrasts. The photo of Grant and Hepburn in this RKO poster (below) for Bringing Up Baby is certainly great, but there is no steamy romance in the movie as depicted here. Clearly, it's just a staged production photo. The illustration in the bottom left corner does a better job of capturing the comic spirit of the movie, even as it abstracts the iconic features of its stars in cartoon fashion:
Upon viewing her early 30s films, such as A Bill of Divorcement (1932) and Morning Glory (1933), Hepburn's first critics often compared her to Garbo and Crawford. This is a strange comparison now, but one the poster art played up in an attempt to sell this unfamiliar woman in familiar ways. Hepburn was styled a little softer in these earlier movies, but the poster art for them actually makes her a little more gaunt than she actually was in the films. For all her sharpness, there is a real vulnerability to her character in Morning Glory, a quality this poster fails to capture:
This sharp-edged, Garbo-inflected Hepburn image lingered into the mid-1930s, even as the films themselves, such as Alice Adams (1935) departed from it. The image on the left of this American poster for Alice Adams looks like an outtake from A Bill of Divorcement or Christopher Strong (1933) and nothing like the mousy, uncertain woman Hepburn plays in the film adaptation of the Booth Tarkington novel:
The idea that Hepburn could play a "mousy, uncertain" character seems odd if all you know of her is her later, retrospective status as a figure of independent womanhood. But it reminds us how varied her 1930s characters were - and that same variation is at play in all of these posters, even as the parallels between a given poster and the film it is supposed to represent don't always make sense. By the time Hepburn became something of an American institution in the 1950s, her well-established iconic features encouraged abstraction, as in this art for 1956's The Iron Petticoat, with Bob Hope (a counter-intuitive pairing, if there ever was one. "Hilariously together for the first time," the poster says; it would be the only time!):
But even before the iconic qualities of her on-screen persona began to take more or less permanent shape, the playful unpredictability of Hepburn's poster persona itself seems to give way to a conservative consistency. The poster for Woman of the Year (1942), for example, is just right for the film, but it lacks the strange playfulness of the earlier posters, a playfulness that echoed, in the 1930s, the remarkable variation of her on-screen presence from film-to-film. Which goes to show that trying to find a single poster image that might boil down your favorite movie star to her essential qualities is ultimately impossible, for all the forgotten, contingent variations are as interesting as the timeless iconic qualities.