In today's LA Times, Patrick Goldstein reports on the redemptive journey to freedom of director John Lee Hancock; imprisoned for the crime of directing The Alamo, Hancock was apparently granted some kind of work release furlough and allowed to make The Blind Side; that film's surprising box office success this weekend has apparently restored him to full movie director citizenship.

Was a time when the rules for director jail were simple: when there was a big bomb, someone had to pay and the person attached to the film who had been the biggest pain in the neck to studio bosses was it. After two simultaneous disasters, Orson Welles, for example, found his big-time career as a director effectively brought to an end and had to struggle for the rest of his days, working when he was allowed, under probation and heavy official supervision.

But today, as with so much in our society, the rules are much murkier. For the citizens of Hollywood, director jail still exists as a looming deterrent against bomb-making, but what gets you there can be very unclear; some directors these days are allowed to make bombs forever, while others seem to be imprisoned after making a hit. Is anyone safe? Has the world gone mad and is it just by Fortuna's whims that any one of us has not found ourselves dragged off and locked away in the dankest, bug-infested cell in movie dungeon?

Well, the rules are more complex, more flexible, with many loopholes but they still do exist. Here's our guide to what it takes to get in to and stay out of Director Jail:

The Law: The general principle remains the same since time immemorial; every director has a bank of capital built up by their hits. Each successful film earns a credit. Every movie-losing film costs you one credit. A bigger hit may earn more credits however, as a bigger flop costs more. When your account gets to zero credits, you are sent to director jail.

The case of the aforementioned Mr. Hancock remains one of the most straightforward, classical cases of movie justice. He began his film career with The Rookie, a modest success made on a modest budget, which earned him two credits. But he then went on to make The Alamo, a huge flop on a huge budget, which cost both his credits, earning him his jail sentence. Likewise Michael Bay had ample credits in his account to weather the debacle of The Island.

The Grosses Speak Law: Whether the film is good or not, whether the director could have been replaced by a monkey, matters not at all if the film is successful. Bret Ratner the titular visionary behind the abomination of the Rush Hour trilogy, which combined grossed the better part of a billion dollars worldwide, has earned himself enough credits to stay out of director jail forever and ever.

The Beholder Codicil: However, the twist of the modern world is that perception matters far more than the actual facts. Even if Bret Ratner's career were nothing but a string of bombs, in a business where, as William Goldman said "nobody knows anything" you can in fact fool all the people all the time. Unshakable belief in yourself and the ability to play the part of great auteur on a grand scale can, if needed, be everything and can keep one out of director jail for a very long time.

The Laughingstock Law: A couple decades back, Renny Harlin was the Bret Ratner of his day. A high-profile, on-the-town action auteur, with a starlet wife and who, with Die Hard 2 and Cliffhanger under his belt, could do no wrong. Until he did something very wrong; he made a movie that was not just a flop, it was so bad it made everyone involved with it look like abject maroons. The director jail authorities saided out to Cutthroat Island and carried Renny Harlin off for an extended vacation.

The Franchise Killer Act: No substance sustains life in Hollywood more than a successful film franchise — a series which can keep the spigots of cash flowing forever. And for the director who would kill a golden goose, no punishment is too great. Having made Speed and Twister in the 90's, Jan De Bont could have coasted for decades. But then he followed up Speed with the franchise killing Speed 2 - a sin which he just might have been gotten away with as it was his franchise to kill after all - but then he went on to bring down the might Lara Croft with The Cradle of Life, the third installment of her series. De Bont has not been heard from since.

The Coolness Exemption: In many instances, coolness creds can override profits and can keep a director out of director jail. There is a long line of entertainment poohbahs for whom being cool is almost as important as being successful, dying to work with anyone who can confer secondary cool. Donnie Darko, for instance, may have barely grossed a million on a $6 million budget, but its status as cult icon and ultimate cool film has created a long list of poohbahs wanting to work with director Richard Kelly. Even after the massive flop of his star-studded follow-up Southland Tales, Kelly continued to walk the streets. However, having now made an uncool flop with The Box, he may soon find there is a cell being readied with his name on it.

The Big Cool Friend Exemption: Director jail can also be avoided, or postponed, if a director can produce big movie star friends. Kevin Smith, for instance, whose bombs should have sent him to the movie guillotine long ago, remains at liberty thanks to his ability to get a long line of big name actors from Ben Affleck to Seth Rogen to vouch for him by appearing in his movies.

The Oscar Exemption: So long as smell of trophies cling to an auteur, they can buy their freedom indefinitely. Paul Thomas Anderson's films may always been more favored by critics than popcorn eaters, but so long as his genius-of-the-cinema creds remain off the map, so will never see the inside of a cell in director jail.

Now defunct: there used to be a disgrace to the entertainment industry law which carried with it a 20-year sentence, but since the term "disgrace to the entertainment industry has become an oxymoron, the law has been unenforced for years.

Yeah. He went there.

He starts opining about how he wishes he had a different strategy—like to start in one city, as Paranormal Activity did—thus ironically echoing the same ethos of The Man Running Hollywood that he later rallies against: find the thing that just performed really, really well, and try to capitalize on its success. Which, whoops, too late.

See, but Max doesn't think he's The Man. He thinks he's The Artist. He's one of The People Who Create. And the people who fucked up his movie chance to become the next E.T. are not. No, really:

Look, here's what people who don't create don't understand, is that once you take money from the machine, the machine owns you. And I was just never ever going to let that happen.

Kinda wish I were an artist, so my art could be 'relevant,' bro. He goes on: he doesn't hate on Big Movies because he's an Indie Movie Guy, because, you know, Transformers would make a stupid indie movie, right? So he's an indie guy. And there's no way he could've sold this movie out to be funny, no way. He just didn't let it go down like this, man. He would've had to stab someone if they put Seth Rogen in his movie. Not happening, no way.

This movie, if we had sold it to [FOX] Searchlight, they would've put Seth Rogen and Dane Cook in it, and they would've cut all the f*cking balls out of the jokes, and they would've brought in some sh*t bird to rewrite the script who would've had Tucker have a girlfriend and this and that, and then it's like they own everything, they may have fired me… I would've stabbed somebody if they had done that. They would've fired me off the movie because they own it — I don't own sh*t anymore, but then I'm the one who has to live with all their creative decisions.

Creative decisions! Like where to put the balls in the movie. Spielberg had the same problem with the girl in the red coat in Schindler's List, which he originally wanted to call Nazis Are Fucked Up, Yo. When you make a Big Studio Movie, you only get so much creative control over the ball jokes, you know? Max goes on to cite another problem as the opening of the film in small cities liek Carbondale, Illinois, a memory that provokes him to rage: "They just don't know the f*cking movies!" But he saves the best for the people of Darko Entertainment, Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly's production company, who produced the movie.

Now, come on. Donnie Darko's a great movie and say what you will of Southland Tales, but at least there's more to say about it besides "it sucks," something many movies (like Tucker's) can't move past. Why, Richard Kelly, did you let this guy into your house?

Well, hopefully, lesson learned. Especially after this bullshit:

Darko [Entertainment] gave us all the creative freedom we could've ever wanted with the budget we had, but once the movie was done, they made a lot of decisions distribution-wise that I would not have made. A lot of things.

How about: your movie is poop, the original product is started out as was poop, you are poop, and if anybody ever lets you work in Hollywood again, they, too, are poop? Nope. Because Tucker's got dreams, man. Big ones:

Another book, Assholes Finish First is coming out next year and then English release [of the film] is New Year's — UK release. Those are the next two big things.

1. Because the British don't think we're doltish enough.
2. Because, lesson learned, Assholes Definitely Finish First. In the race to the bargain bin. Which is where all Tucker Max material will continue to land.

Meta. Bro.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.The Invention of Lying, which Gervais co-wrote and co-directed with Matthew Robinson, looks pretty funny and absurdist and sports a bogglingly good cast—Gervais, Jennifer Garner, Jonah Hill, Christopher Guest, Tina Fey, Martin Starr, Jason Bateman, Jeffrey Tambor, Rob Lowe, Patrick Stewart, Stephanie March, John Hodgman, and Louis C.K., among others. Ridiculous.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.Inglourious Basterds will be bloody good bloody fun. We're especially liking Mike Myers' gonzo Brit in this trailer.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.Hm... While The Box has an interesting concept, our faith in Richard Kelly is a bit rattled after Southland Tales. Now, that movie definitely had its merits (that whole virtuoso Justin TImberlake/"All These Things That I've Done" sequence chief among them), but in sum it was a muddled mess. The trailer for this picture begins promisingly (if you can forgive Cameron Diaz's brutal accent) with a creepy, fable-like setup, but then devolves into watery, ugly CGI and we start to worry. Also, does the presence of James Marsden mean he's on the leading-mean up and up, or does it mean that this is a schlocky B-horror film? Sadly, we kinda think it's the latter.

Screen Daily notes that the horrible film S. Darko, set to start shooting May 18 at a location reeking of infernal sulphur and the dead, bloated body of God Himself, "picks up seven years after the first film (and Donnie's death) when little sister Samantha Darko and her best friend Corey are now 18 and on a roadtrip to Los Angeles when they are plagued by bizarre visions." Donnie Darko alum Daveigh Chase will reprise her role as the title character, while noted motherfucking hack Chris Fisher — the cloven-hoofed anti-visionary responsible for Nightstalker and Rampage: The Hillside Strangler Murders — will take over the directing reins, which he will then use to strangle the life out of Kelly's original story and everyone who loves it.

Between bites of Chase's soul, Velvet Octopus rep Simon Crowe told Screen Daily: ""I think there is a new generation of cinema-goers who will be very excited to see this film. ... Donnie's not in [the new film] but there are meteorites and rabbits." Chortling away, Crowe then excused himself for a custom tuxedo fitting that would allow his muscular red tail to breathe during his 10-day blood feast on the Croisette. We wish the worst of luck to him and all involved.

• 'Donnie Darko' sequel 'S. Darko'... [Screen Daily via Coming Soon]