Cruising ★★★★

Suffers a bit at the hands of its own rhythm, almost screeching to a halt as the investigative tics begin to trump the exploitative counterculture stuff that admittedly makes all of the lead in much more compelling, especially when juxtaposed with Burns' naivety and ambiguously evolving behaviors/demeanor. Even still, this is definitely in its own league as far as thrillers of the era go, peaking with zany shit like the hulking, musclebound guy waiting in the wing of an interrogation room to intermittently beat the piss out of detainees, however the concluding stretch is as dourly open-ended and sinister as something alternatively concrete and resolute.

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