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What at first seems like a half-assed effort in the noir canon is actually a canny commentary on a dying era.
Think of it as a noir movie that Alfred would pointedly give Batman as a Christmas present.
An atypical noir that knows how to use its incongruities to its advantage.
This film straddles both the era of studio dominance and the burgeoning independence of filmmakers in the '50s.
Forget Sam Spade - Philip Marlowe is the man of this hour.
This Batman tells its story a hell of a lot better than the gatekeepers of Comic Book Land have ever given it credit for.
It's tough to forgive or even forget about Ike's checkered past when he insists on bringing it up in practically every song.
If not mother/daughter rifts, what then was the main problem with this season of Gilmore Girls? Three ridiculous words: "Luke's Secret Daughter."
Happy birthday, and here's to 25 years more.
If anyone had their doubts about Radio Birdman's continuing relevance, those doubts had evaporated long before the final chords of opener "Burn My Eye."
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