Jordan Cronk: Now, Jean-Luc Godard has been pretty kind to us and to a series such as this by segregating his career into convenient little movements, but after wandering for a good decade or more in the wilderness of the late ‘60s and ‘70s, he himself seemed to even acknowledge the need for a return to form. At the time of its release, Godard called Every Man for Himself his “second first film,” and as we mentioned in our last column, this was the first widely accessible (comparatively speaking of course) film he made in nearly twelve years. It was a return to narrative, a return to characterization, and a return to at least some modicum of coherency; it also kick-started a decade that seems ripe for rediscovery and reassessment. I know you in particular may even prefer this decade to his runs of ‘60s films. Beyond the obvious characteristics and general linearity in relation to what directly preceded them, what is it about these films that make them continue to standout in a late-career catalogue that at times can seem impenetrable to the common viewer?

Calum Marsh: Well, as we discussed a little bit the last time around, I think Godard’s ‘60s films, masterpieces though many of them are, have had their reputations bolstered as a result of their historical value and confirmed status within the larger cultural canon. The films Godard made during the ‘80s, on the other hand, aren’t lucky enough to have history supporting them so vehemently—they thus need to not only stand apart on their own but alsoapart from those ‘60s “classics”. That means they have a lot working against them. But what’s funny is that once you actually pass the invisible hurdle and actually get right into those films—assuming you can find any of them, because apart from three of the weaker films from mid-decade none of these films are available on DVD in North America—you realize just how accessible and wholly enjoyable they are. These films are still quite dense, mind you, and tendto posit mo re sophisticated ideas and arguments than did the films which preceded them, but the general and pervasive idea that Godard totally lost his way after Week End starts to seem a little odd after you watch a film like Every Man For Himself or First Name: Carmen, which are fairly coherent and entertaining.

With the recent hubbub over the epic Rapture fail by businessman turned mathematician-evangelist Harold Camping, a movie like Vanishing on 7th Street is very refreshing. No, it’s not much better than the latest cult creating hysteric at evoking logic and reasoning. No, it’s post-Apocalyptic vision of a Detroit bereft of people and plagued by a body-snatching “darkness” can’t compare to the Four Horsemen, the End Days, and the notion of people rising to Heaven and/or remaining on a literal Hell on Earth.  And no, it can’t quite match the arch overacting of Camping and his crew, stars Hayden Christensen, Thandie Newton, and John Leguizamo unable to give performances of nuance, consideration, and…oddly enough, considering the comparison, believability.

Indeed, the refreshment comes with seeing something actually stupider and more stunted than said “Jesus is Coming” con artists.

Detroit TV reporter Luke Ryder (Christensen) wakes up one silent metropolitan morning to no alarm, no power…and no people. Up and down the street outside his building, he sees clothes and the fragments of a former civilization, but no human bodies. Slowly, we discover that the darkness has a kind of supernatural power all its own. It absorbs individuals. Shadows speak and take on a surreal—and deadly—life absent their owners.

Gratuitous violence. Even more wanton nudity. A storyline centering on an escaped denizen of Hell, his vendetta against a psychotic Satanic cult leader, the Devil’s accountant looking to clean up the mess, and blond bombshell waitress with iron fists and a souped muscle car. If it sounds like a ‘70s exploitation classic, you’d be right…and wrong. Indeed, this is Drive Angry, a 2011 experiment in excess that argues for the viability and vitality of the drive-in dynamic in a post-modern (and millennial) world. Director Patrick Lussier, who cut his teeth with previous kings of the genre like Wes Craven (of the original sleazoid classic Last House on the Left) and startling remakes (the excellent My Bloody Valentine update) is dropping the whole monsters and mayhem shtick to go full blown balls to the wall with blood, breasts, and bombast. The end result reminds the viewer of a time when movies both pandered and took peculiar, often eccentric chances with its intended demographic.

In this case, we meet the long dead - but recently “revived” - John Milton (Nicolas Cage - no, wait…he’s actually very, very good here…), a former criminal who escaped from Hell’s Prison with a magical gun and a head full of hate. He is after Devil-worshipping DB Jonah King (Billy Burke), a fiendish false prophet who killed our hero’s daughter and husband and stole their infant child. The villain intends to use the baby at the next full moon, hoping the sacrifice will bring about the coming of the Antichrist. Along the way, Milton picks up a sweet young thing named Piper (Amber Heard). She has a chip on her shoulder and the keys to a revved up black Buick Riviera. As he pursues his prey across the American Southeast, he is followed by an equally malevolent figure known as The Accountant (William Fichtner), a sharp dressed man with an underworld contract to fulfill.

The first film was a surprising combination of The Shaw Brothers and an above-average Saturday morning cartoon.  It took its moviemaking, and its martial arts mythology, seriously. Even with humor aimed more at the adolescent than the adult, the overall effect was one of respect, reverence, and real legitimated imagination. Sadly, only the third element in that alliterative triptych remains behind for this otherwise entertaining - and wholly unnecessary - sequel.  This time around Kung Fu Panda 2 falls back into the lamentable formulas that make most CG animated efforts so irritating. Instead of continuing our fighting bear’s quest to become the ultimate Dragon Warrior, we get a standard stock villain, a questionable backstory, and enough Jack Black buffoonery to make up for the decided lack of such silliness during Part 1.

Po (Black) has settled into his role as Dragon Warrior and defender of the valley. He is a superstar, and along with the members of the Furious Five - Masters Tigress (Angelina Jolie),  Monkey (Jackie Chan), Crane (David Cross), Mantis (Seth Rogen) and Viper (Lucy Liu) - hes tackle random gangs of marauders and highwaymen. While their guide, Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) struggles to find the key to inner peace, Po’s dad (James Hong) and his noodle shop are making a mint off his celebrity status. In a bit of a flashback rewinding, we learn that an evil peacock named Lord Shen (Gary Oldman), heir to the throne of Gongmen City and an expert in fireworks, has a prophecy inspired vendetta against all pandas. So he slaughters them and develops gunpowder as a means of destroying all kung fu and ruling the entirety of China…and perhaps, the world. Only Po and his pals can stop him, saving their land from domination and destruction.

It was the chief criticism of otherwise great media experiments like Lost and Twin Peaks: too much of the evocative and ethereal, not enough meaningful evidence and explanation. By the time both of these successful TV series reached their end, audiences were more confused than content? Who killed Laura Palmer? What, exactly, was the smoke monster? Was Bob a demon, or part of Leland Palmer’s disturbed personality? Was the island really a kind of purgatory/lay-over, or something else all together? It was their own fault, really. You can’t set up something as inherently interesting and narratively complex as these shows and ever believe you can deliver on the denouement. You seem destined - nay, doomed - to fail.

Such is the case with the otherwise extraordinary horror effort yellowbrickroad. Written and directed by first time filmmakers Jesse Holland and Andy Mitton, it offers up an intriguing premise - a group of explorers retrace the footsteps of a decades old local legend, hiking a secluded forest trail where hundreds of people up and died…or just plain disappeared. Within said setting, it then plays psychological games, merging film and fantasy, fiction and the frailties of the human spirit to drive the modern expedition to the mouth of madness. In the end, however, the ‘why’ just can’t match the ‘who’ and ‘how’. In fact, it’s safe to say that no conceivable conclusion could have wholly satisfied.