It was 1979. The stakes were impossibly high. After years of false starts, television reruns, and a failed attempt at a new series called Phase II, Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock were finally coming to the big screen. But there was a problem. The Motion Picture—or TMP as fans call it—wasn't a fast-paced space opera like Star Wars. It was something more cerebral, something slower. The marketing department had to sell a "human adventure" that felt grander than anything seen on a 1960s TV set. They needed a visual hook. They found it in the Star Trek TMP poster, an image that has become arguably more iconic than the movie it was designed to promote.
Honestly, if you close your eyes and think of the first Star Trek film, you don't see the V’ger cloud. You see the rainbow. You see those three distinct streaks of color—blue, yellow, and red—blasting out from a central point of light, framing the stoic faces of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy.
The Artist Behind the Prism
Bob Peak. That’s the name you need to know.
Peak wasn't just some guy with a paintbrush; he was the "Father of the Modern Movie Poster." Before he touched the Enterprise, he’d already redefined how we look at cinema through his work on Apocalypse Now and Superman. When Paramount approached him for the Star Trek TMP poster, they weren't looking for a literal depiction of a scene. They wanted a feeling. Peak understood that the film was trying to bridge the gap between the campy 60s show and a "hard" sci-fi future.
His approach was revolutionary for the time. Instead of drawing a starship in a dogfight, he focused on the concept of evolution and transcendence. The rainbow effect wasn't just a 70s design trope—though it certainly fits the era's aesthetic—it represented the "prism" of human experience. You’ve got Kirk on the left, looking intensely into the distance, and Spock on the right, radiating that cool, logical Vulcan energy. In the middle? The Enterprise, looking sleek and incredibly detailed compared to the cardboard-and-plastic model people remembered from NBC.
Peak’s use of light was deliberate. He used airbrushing techniques that made the poster look like it was glowing from within. If you find an original 1979 one-sheet today, the colors still pop in a way that modern digital prints struggle to replicate. It feels tactile. It feels like art, not just a marketing asset.
Why the Rainbow is More Than Just a 70s Vibe
People often joke that the Star Trek TMP poster looks like a Pink Floyd album cover or a disco floor. While the 1970s loved a good gradient, the colors in Peak’s work serve a narrative purpose.
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Think about the uniforms in the original series. Command was gold. Sciences were blue. Operations was red. By stretching these colors into a massive, looming prism that dwarfs the ship, Peak was subtly nodding to the unity of the crew. They weren't just individuals anymore; they were part of a spectrum. It’s a brilliant bit of subconscious branding.
Interestingly, the movie itself is quite monochrome. The interiors of the refit Enterprise are greys, beiges, and muted whites. The uniforms are basically pajamas in varying shades of "nothing." The poster, however, promised a vibrant, psychedelic journey. This created a bit of a disconnect for some 1979 audiences who expected a high-energy blast and got a two-hour meditation on godhood and loneliness. Yet, the poster endured. It gave the film a dignity it might have lacked if they’d just gone with a standard "action" shot.
Variations and the Global Reach
Not every country got the same Bob Peak masterpiece. If you start digging into international versions of the Star Trek TMP poster, things get weird and wonderful.
- The Japanese B2 posters often played up the scale of the Enterprise, sometimes losing the rainbow entirely in favor of a more technical look.
- Polish posters—as per the tradition of the Polish School of Posters—went completely off the rails with abstract, almost unrecognizable imagery that looked more like a fever dream than a space movie.
- The "Advance" poster in the US was even simpler. It was just the rainbow logo on a black background with the tagline: "The Human Adventure is Just Beginning."
That tagline is one of the best in Hollywood history. It didn't say "The Great War in Space" or "Kirk’s Revenge." It promised an internal journey. It sold a promise of discovery.
There’s also the "white" version of the poster, which is rarer and often sought after by collectors. It flips the black void for a stark, clinical white. It’s striking, but it lacks the depth of the original "black" version where the Enterprise seems to be emerging from the darkness of the unknown.
Collectors and the Modern Market
If you're looking to buy an original Star Trek TMP poster, you’ve got to be careful. The market is flooded with reprints and "bootlegs" that look great from ten feet away but lose all the fine detail upon closer inspection.
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An authentic 27x41 inch one-sheet from 1979 will usually have a National Screen Service (NSS) number in the bottom right corner. For TMP, that number is usually 790150. If it’s missing that, or if the dimensions are slightly off (like 24x36), you’re looking at a commercial reprint. Not that there’s anything wrong with a reprint for your home theater, but don't pay "collector" prices for a poster that came from a modern inkjet printer.
Condition is everything. Because these were often folded when sent to theaters—"rolled" posters didn't become the industry standard until the 80s—finding a "Near Mint" folded copy is common, but finding a truly unmarred rolled copy from 1979 is like finding a working phaser. It’s rare. Expect to pay a premium for anything that doesn't have "fold wear," which is that white stress line that appears where the paper was creased for forty years.
The 4K Revolution and the Poster's Second Life
When Paramount finally released the Director’s Edition in 4K recently, they went back to the Bob Peak aesthetic. It was a validation of his vision. After years of the franchise trying to look "gritty" or "modern," they realized that the most "Star Trek" thing they had was that 1979 rainbow.
They even commissioned new art that homaged Peak’s style. Why? Because it works. It captures the "Star Trek" ethos—hope, diversity, and the vastness of the cosmos—better than a photo-collage of actors ever could.
The Star Trek TMP poster isn't just a piece of paper. It’s a historical marker. It represents the moment sci-fi tried to grow up. It’s the visual bridge between the "Monster of the Week" television era and the cinematic powerhouse the franchise would become.
How to Spot a High-Quality Star Trek TMP Poster
If you're adding this to your collection, look for these specific details to ensure you're getting the best version:
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- The Enterprise Registry: On a high-quality print, you should be able to clearly read "NCC-1701" on the saucer without it looking like a blurry mess. Peak’s painting was incredibly detailed.
- The Skin Tones: Kirk and Spock should look like they are under a warm, golden spotlight. Many cheap reprints over-saturate the red, making them look like they have bad sunburns.
- The Gradient Blend: The transition between the blue, yellow, and red in the rainbow should be a smooth "bleed." If you see harsh lines where one color ends and another begins, it’s a low-res digital copy.
Peak’s work on this film actually earned him a bit of a legendary status among the cast. Leonard Nimoy reportedly loved the way Peak captured the "intellectual" side of Spock through his gaze alone. It’s rare for an actor to feel a poster captures their character better than a still photo, but Peak was just that good.
Actionable Steps for Fans and Collectors
If you're ready to bring a piece of this history into your home, don't just click "buy" on the first eBay listing you see. Start by checking reputable auction houses like Heritage Auctions or specialized film poster galleries. They vet their items for authenticity.
For those who just want the vibe without the $500 price tag, look for the "Director’s Edition" official merch. It uses high-resolution scans of the original paintings rather than scans of old, degraded posters.
Finally, consider the framing. UV-protective glass is non-negotiable for an original 1979 poster. Those 70s inks are sensitive to sunlight and will fade into a muddy brown if left in a bright room. You’ve waited decades for the "human adventure" to begin—don't let it fade away in six months because of a cheap frame.
The Star Trek TMP poster remains a masterclass in how to sell a "slow" movie as a grand event. It took a ship, two men, and a rainbow, and turned them into a timeless icon of human potential. That’s more than just marketing; that’s art.