August Movie Poster Roundup: Devils, Docs, and Origami

Re-releases, premium formats, and examinations of youth dominate this month’s movie poster roundup. It has everything from controversial horror to kids’ classics, along with some personal projects and even cyborgs. Each design does a wonderful job of conveying the feelings of the film it’s selling, regardless of the subject matter. A little goes a long way with a few minimalist designs, while others fill as much of the page as possible to tell their story. 

August was a diverse month, delivering creativity, ambition, and a desire to surprise. Let’s check it out.

The Best Summer

The Best Summer is a found footage documentary of the 1995 Summersault music tour. Director Tamra Davis tagged along as bands like The Beastie Boys, Beck, and Pavement toured Australia. She videotaped everything and collected it all in this film.

for.ma Studios nails the assignment here: this poster doesn’t just sell a film—it radiates the feeling of its title. Bright yellow and hot pink flood the composition, creating an immediate sense of joy and warmth that pulls you in before you’ve read a single word. The handwritten title dominates the center, nestled inside a beaming orange sun. The typography doesn’t just give you information; it becomes part of the design’s emotional core.

Below, a black-and-white collage of candid musician shots captures the vibrant spirit of touring life. Tamra Davis herself appears among them, camera raised, positioning her as observer and participant. The contrast between the bright background and these documentary-style photographs creates a wonderful visual tension.

Typography layered throughout—band names, festival laurels, credits—makes this design feel authentic. It almost looks like a homemade gig poster, the kind you’d discover tacked to a club wall. Everything here conspires toward aliveness. The poster promises more than a film; it promises the feeling of summer itself. 

Onslaught

As I mentioned in a previous poster roundup, premium format posters are often more interesting than a film’s general release poster. Onslaught’s entire marketing campaign has a cohesive aesthetic, but this IMAX edition does it so well that it’s worth spotlighting. 

From Empire Design, the poster channels 1980s VHS horror with deliberate precision. The black-and-blue background recalls that bygone era to establish mood, transforming isolation and nocturnal dread into a visual language.

Three genetically engineered soldiers cascade downward in cool blue tones, their overlapping forms guiding the eye downward toward our protagonist. She emerges at the base, brightly lit for contrast, holding a machine gun. The design rewards your descent with a big payoff.

Typography commands attention. “Experience it in IMAX” dominates the top third of the design in urgent red while the film’s title rests at the bottom, balancing the composition with equal weight.

One misstep, though: supplemental text, particularly the director’s credit, gets lost. Its thin sans-serif weight and red hue disappear amongst the details of the protagonist. Regardless, this poster succeeds at being playful and nostalgic without feeling derivative. It uses its retro design to create an interesting story that really sells the film. 

Kubo and the Two Strings

This poster for the 10-year anniversary re-release of Kubo and the Two Strings is quite stunning. Empire Design incorporates the film’s core magic, origami, to create a true work of art.

A coral-orange mountain rises from the composition’s center, alive with the chaos and camaraderie Kubo encounters on his journey—skeletons, shadowy figures, samurai, monkeys—all created from layered paper. At the base, Kubo looks upward with anticipation in a posture that suggests both excitement and mastery. Did he stumble upon this landscape? Or did he create it?

The limited color palette, dictated by the paper’s constraints, is a real strength here. The coral, gold, and black are all used perfectly to amplify the piece’s strength. 

Typography steps aside gracefully. The gold-stamped title sits in the top left corner, letting the design do its work. “If you must blink, do it now!” serves as a tagline for the film and a warning to viewers. Kubo says this in the opening scene, asking everyone to buckle up.

In a time of floating heads and algorithmic sameness, this poster stands out. Empire leaned into the source material to create a work that’s worthy of gallery walls and theater lobbies alike.

The Devils

The Devils, Ken Russell’s controversial 1971 film, returns to theaters this October. And with it comes this striking poster from Sister Hyde Design—a piece that distills the film’s transgressive power into a single, striking image.

The minimalist design is bold: a lone nun stands centered inside a vast negative space, arms raised and bound by restraints, a cross prominent on her chest. The chains act as a visual guide, purposefully drawing the eye downward through the composition. It all feels provocative, just like the film and director Ken Russell’s blend of religious transgression and psychological dread.

The simple color palette consists of cream, black, and flesh tones, providing stark contrast that makes every element impactful. The bright background is antiseptic, surely a reference to the film’s unusually designed nunnery.

Typography is almost secondary here. “The Devils” sits dead center, nestled between the nun’s outstretched arms. The clean serif lettering doesn’t compete with the visuals because it doesn’t have to. The image is so arresting that the type simply has to exist and get out of the way. The supporting credits below maintain hierarchy without visual clutter.

This is a mature design that trusts its concept. It works because it provokes quietly, which makes it both unsettling and memorable.

Club Kid

Club Kid explores a compelling dilemma: a hard-partying NYC club promoter suddenly becomes a parent. GrandSon‘s poster design captures this collision beautifully, moving beyond typical marketing imagery to something more interesting.

The poster drips with color, employing bright gradients that evoke both dancefloor lights and the haze of emergence. The two figures at its center move through the scene together, their embrace suggesting chaos and connection—a visual shorthand about the film’s central relationship. The bold sans-serif type grounds the composition at the bottom, balancing the ethereal imagery above without overshadowing it. The two work in concert rather than competing for space.

What makes this design sing is its restraint. By abandoning exposition in favor of atmosphere, the poster invites interpretation. Is this joy? Is it survival? The ambiguity mirrors the film’s own tensions between hedonism and responsibility.

This poster respects its audience, trusting that vibes alone can communicate artistic intent. It’s luscious, demanding, and very effective.