Here’s a quick AI mock-up — it’ll take a while until the real piece arrives, but I already think it looks fantastic.

Don’t you?

The Premature Burial, 1962
One Sheet, Fine/Very Fine

That adds another beautiful piece to my small Reynold Brown collection.

But now it’s really over for the time being. I need to wait until everything has finally arrived and then properly clean up the database. You lose track far too quickly if you don’t handle it promptly and with discipline.

Just the March auctions at eMoviePoster. But I was already in on those. After that, it’s over … I swear.

Quintet, 1979
Director: Robert Altman

Here is the German version in DIN A1 (23.4" × 33.1").

What doesn’t come across well in the photo is the silvery-gray sheen that perfectly conveys the film’s cold atmosphere.

I’m happy to have it. I associate something with it. I have a soft spot for end-of-the-world films set in cold, hopeless environments. 😉

Hi everyone,

this is the Polish poster for the comedy

Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation (1962)
Polish poster (approx. 58 x 84 cm), Fine+

I won it on February 8, 2026 for under $100.

Polish movie posters — and more broadly, posters from the Eastern Bloc during the Cold War — are special. The illustrators often worked without extensive photo or film material as reference. Frequently, they received nothing more than a synopsis, sometimes very brief.

So they turned necessity into virtue and gave their own interpretation plenty of room.

That is exactly what makes them so compelling. For many Western films, there are graphically independent, sometimes radically reduced or even surreal reinterpretations. The so-called “Polish School of Posters” is legendary for a reason.

This particular example was designed in 1963 — one year after the U.S. premiere — by the well-known Polish poster artist Jerzy Flisak.

What truly makes it special: there is a paste-over visible in the top line. In the original printed version, the name of the lead actor, James Stewart, was apparently set as “Steward” — spelled phonetically, as one might have heard it.

Instead of reprinting the entire run, they apparently chose to correct the mistake with a paper paste-over. In a planned economy with limited resources, that was economically far more sensible than commissioning a new print run.

Strictly speaking, this is therefore not a classic “misprint,” but rather a production correction via paste-over. But those are exactly the kinds of details I love. They tell you something about the production conditions, about pragmatism — and about the era in which this poster was created.

I like stories like this. They are what make collecting truly interesting to me.

I should watch the film again ...

Many of you will probably laugh and say, “I’ve been using one of these since shortly after the invention of the wheel.” But for me as a rookie, this was new.

One thing is clear: people who professionally ship vintage movie posters mean business. They prepare that valuable cargo for everything that ever happened in a 1950s B-movie — alien invasions, volcanic eruptions, shifts of the Earth’s axis, you name it.

Then the package arrives at your door… and you grab a carpet knife. That’s when you either cut straight into the poster — or into arteries you’ve grown rather attached to.

This cutter (or similar models) is a complete game changer. It cuts only the cardboard. Or the bubble wrap. What it does not do is reach the poster — unless you handle it in a truly spectacularly stupid way.

To quote the Greeks: Eureka.

There are five big boxes full, of Posters waiting to be opened here. Unfortunately, I don’t really know where to put the posters yet because my Baroque portfolios still haven’t arrived. I’ve been waiting for weeks. Horrible. 

Anyway. This is the knife.