As the saying goes, I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like. And what I like is the Crane Kalman Gallery in North Laine. As someone who feels more at home with a camera than a paintbrush, I’ve long been a fan of their regular photographic exhibitions. In May they displayed a collection of snaps by Mary McCartney (daughter of Paul and Linda), while July saw an exhibition of Californian skateboarding photos. A visit to the gallery doesn’t require a degree in art appreciation and a love of the Emperor’s New Clothes. So if you’ve ever stood in Tate Modern with a look of bewilderment on your face, wondering what the heck it’s all about, Crane Kalman will come as a welcome relief.
Their current exhibition which runs until September 9th is entitled ‘Eastern European Poster Art’, and eschews photography in favour of a collection of vintage film posters dating from the 1950s to the 1980s. It’s like walking into a teenager’s bedroom. Although I think the posters on display are worth more than the one of E.T. I had on my wall as a child.
The posters originate from Poland, Czechoslovakia and East Germany, and are starkly different to the film advertising we’re used to over here. Whilst most Western film posters are created purely to promote the movie, in communist Eastern Europe the trend was for the state to hire established artists and graphic designers who, free from the commercial stranglehold of their Western capitalist cousins, were given free reign to create genuine works of art. Making money is a low priority when you’re a communist, and before long, the promotional nature of the posters was overtaken by their artistic quality. Rather than a photo of the star and a quote from The Sun, Eastern European designers went for a graphic (and often surreal) interpretation of the film.
Which brings us to the thirty or so posters currently on display at Crane Kalman. Most of the films will be familiar, among them such blockbusters as ‘The French Connection’, ‘Taxi Driver’ and ‘Escape From New York’, whilst a few famous faces, including James Dean and Robert De Niro, are instantly recognisable. But beyond that, it can sometimes be a challenge to match the poster to the film.
For example, the Polish poster for Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Vertigo’, created in 1958 by Roman Cieslewicz (who subsequently became art director of Vogue), consists of a skull with a target on its forehead, beneath which hangs a suit and tie marked with an over-sized fingerprint. It’s not the most obvious interpretation of a James Stewart film, but half the fun of the exhibition is working out the connection between the movie and its poster.
At first glance the Czech poster for ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ looks like ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ with guns, while the artwork for ‘Cabaret’ makes Liza Minnelli look like she was painted by Picasso. The ‘Barbarella’ poster, which was clearly inspired by the film’s comic book roots, features Jane Fonda (or Jane Fondova as the poster calls her) looking like a cross between Pamela Anderson and a Barbie doll, complete with verbal sound effects such as “HISSSS” “ROAR!” and the slightly bizarre “PURRR-MEOWL!”
Other posters give a more literal translation. Polish artist Eryk Lipinski’s artwork for ‘Planet of the Apes’ features a green planet with the face of a gorilla having its nose tickled by the torch of the Statue of Liberty, while the same artist’s version of ‘The Day of the Jackal’ blatantly gives away the film’s ending.
Perhaps my favourite poster, however, is the one for ‘Blow Up’ by Polish artist Waldemar Swierzy. At first glance it’s just a mass of red, blue and yellow blobs, but step back a few feet and you soon realise it’s a head shot of the main character, blown up as the title of the film suggests, and painted to simulate a photographic enlargement. It’s a clever effect, and shows the amount of thought that went into these pictures. The British poster for the same film just featured a photo of Vanessa Redgrave. I know which one I prefer.
