Noirvember: Gotham TV series (available on HBOMAX)

Gotham. Yeah, I’m talking about the TV show that carved out a slice of the DC pie but didn’t shy from putting its own grimy fingerprints all over the frosting. This was a city that’d chew you up and spit you out, and you’d still crawl back for more, fists clenched and mind twisted. A city that was as much a character as the players themselves, a grimy, rain-slicked beast of old brick buildings and flickering neon. Gotham's shadows didn’t just hide secrets; they *became* secrets, thick as fog and just as intoxicating. 

Now, Gotham’s a prequel, see, but don’t go looking for young Bruce as the heart of this mess. It’s not the kid's story just yet. Nah, this one’s about Detective Jim Gordon, a man with his collar tight, his knuckles bruised, and a chip on his shoulder like it’s carved out of granite. He’s here to save the city. Only trouble is, Gotham doesn’t want saving. The city likes its insanity, its parade of villains with cracked smiles and cold laughs. And there’s Jim, straight as an arrow, diving headfirst into a storm of broken laws and broken souls. You start to wonder if he’ll make it out with anything left worth saving.

But then you’ve got these characters, each one a freak show unto themselves. Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin—he’s got that desperate, ragged look like he’d stab you with his lunch fork for a nickel. And let’s talk about Fish Mooney, cool as a pool hall hustler, with eyes that see straight through the suits and grime to the bones beneath. And young Selina, a cat already walking on her own rules, ready to scratch or purr depending on which way the wind’s blowing.

The show gives us Gotham’s rogues before they’re even legends, like snapshots from a tabloid you’d find in the gutter. You get Eddie Nygma as this brainy, jittery little puzzle waiting to crack himself open. It’s a slow burn, watching these villains simmer before they boil over, a parade of madness and violence, each one more twisted than the last.

And the city? It’s got Kerouac’s chaotic pulse, an underbelly that smells of diesel and despair, late nights stretching on like long highways to nowhere. Gotham, it breathes in shadows and spits out lunatics. It’s a city where morality is a blurred line, and justice is just another empty word spray-painted on an alley wall.

You can feel Gotham’s rhythm, a jazz riff of good intentions and sour notes, where the laughter's always a little off, like someone’s playing a joke and only they get the punchline. The plot wanders and weaves, and sometimes you’re left wondering where it’s headed. But that's the point. Gotham doesn’t give you answers; it drags you down its murky streets, leaves you in the gutter, and laughs as it walks away. It’s dark, twisted, a fever dream of heroes and villains simmering in a pot of bad intentions.

So if you’re looking for some noir with a bite, a pre-Batman city with grime under its nails, *Gotham* is the fix. Just don’t go in looking for light—here, darkness has already won, and the rest is just a slow waltz into the abyss.