TMV Movie, 6811 E Cave Creek Road, Cave Creek, AZ (2026)

06/14/2026

A GENIUS, TWO PARTNERS AND A DUPE (1975): Terence Hill, Robert Charlebois, and Miou-Miou — An Audacious Western Trio, Half a Century Later, and the Rare Joy of a Tribute Where Everyone Is Still Wonderfully Alive

Released in 1975 under the direction of Damiano Damiani and produced with the creative involvement of the legendary Sergio Leone himself, A Genius, Two Partners and a Dupe stands as one of the most genuinely ambitious, most deliberately subversive, and most fascinatingly unconventional entries in the entire canon of the Italian Western — a film that wore its postmodern playfulness, its affectionate irreverence toward the genre it was simultaneously celebrating and deconstructing, and its considerable creative confidence with an energy and an intelligence that set it meaningfully apart from the more conventional adventures of its era. At its mischievous, irresistible center stood Terence Hill as the magnificently named Joe Thanks — a character of such supernatural speed, such cheerful audacity, and such completely effortless physical grace that he seemed to belong less to the real world of the frontier West and more to the realm of living legend, a figure around whom events arranged themselves with the particular logic of myth rather than history.

This vibrant and beautifully preserved image from 1975 — all three performers in their full period Western costume against the stark, dramatic landscape of an authentic desert setting, Terence Hill lean and commanding in the foreground with his trademark turquoise pendant and wide-brimmed hat, Robert Charlebois beside him with his wild, irrepressible curls and the animated, slightly astonished expression of a man perpetually caught in the middle of something he didn't entirely plan, and Miou-Miou completing the trio with the composed, watchful intelligence of the only person present who has a fully accurate understanding of the situation — captures the film's distinctive energy and its particular brand of adventurous, irreverent charm with immediate and complete authority. There is a quality to this image that speaks of three performers who brought genuinely different energies, genuinely different screen traditions, and genuinely different national cinematic sensibilities to a project that was ambitious enough and generous enough to accommodate and celebrate all of them simultaneously.

Robert Charlebois — the celebrated Quebec singer, songwriter, and cultural icon whose involvement in this Italian-French co-production represented one of the more genuinely unexpected and genuinely delightful casting choices in the genre's history — brought to the film a spontaneous, unpredictable comic energy and a completely original personal charisma that no conventionally cast actor could have replicated. Miou-Miou, already by 1975 one of the most critically admired and most completely compelling young actresses in French cinema, brought to her role a fierce intelligence, a natural authority, and a screen presence of such quiet power that she gave the film its most dramatically grounded and most emotionally credible performances — a reminder that genuine talent finds its own level regardless of the genre or the company it keeps.

This tribute carries the rare and genuinely wonderful happiness of entirely joyful and entirely uncomplicated news — Terence Hill, Robert Charlebois, and Miou-Miou are all wonderfully, warmly, vibrantly, and actively present and celebrated in 2026. Three remarkable artists, three survivors of a magnificently audacious cinematic adventure undertaken fifty-one years ago in the dust and sunshine of an Italian Western landscape, each having gone on to build careers and lives of remarkable richness, depth, and lasting achievement in the decades since they stood together on that desert set in 1975. This is a tribute without sorrow, without farewell, and without any shadow of loss — only the pure, uncomplicated, and deeply satisfying celebration of three extraordinary people who created something genuinely special together half a century ago and who remain, each in their own very different way, genuinely and magnificently themselves in 2026.

06/14/2026

KNOCK-OUT COP (1978): Bud Spencer and Enzo Cannavale — A Magnificent Odd Couple, A Double Farewell, and the Golden Era of Italian Comedy That the World Will Never Stop Loving

Released in 1978, Knock-Out Cop — known in Italy as Poliziotto superpiù — gave Bud Spencer one of his most entertaining and most completely satisfying solo vehicles of his entire remarkable career, a gloriously anarchic police comedy that placed the great Carlo Pedersoli at the center of a series of increasingly improbable, increasingly chaotic, and increasingly hilarious confrontations with the criminal underworld of New York City that only a performer of his extraordinary physical presence, his natural comic timing, and his completely effortless screen authority could have navigated with quite such magnificent and such completely convincing aplomb. Beside him, the wonderfully gifted and instantly recognizable Neapolitan comedian Enzo Cannavale — one of Italian cinema's most beloved and most consistently entertaining character performers, whose expressive face, natural comic instincts, and impeccable timing made him a genuinely irreplaceable fixture of the Italian popular cinema of this golden era — brought to the film a complementary energy and a brilliant comic chemistry with Spencer that transformed their shared scenes into some of the most purely entertaining and most genuinely funny moments in the entire Bud Spencer solo filmography.

This wonderful image from 1978 captures the essential dynamic of their partnership with perfect and permanent clarity — Bud Spencer towering and magnificent in his dark three-piece suit, adjusting his jacket with the unhurried, unruffled composure of a man who has decided to be presentable regardless of whatever chaos surrounds him and who has every confidence in his ability to manage both his appearance and any subsequent violence with equal and impressive efficiency, while Enzo Cannavale beside him in his gloriously extravagant purple and red jacket with matching bow tie radiates the particular energy of a man who is simultaneously very pleased with himself and very aware that standing next to Bud Spencer is the kind of experience that requires a certain psychological fortitude and a well-developed capacity for the unexpected. The contrast between Spencer's massive, contained, almost geological stillness and Cannavale's compact, expressive, perpetually animated presence created a comic dynamic of genuine and immediate appeal — two completely different human scales and two completely different comic registers that somehow, in the hands of these two gifted performers, produced something far greater and far more entertaining than either could have achieved independently.

This tribute carries the deep and genuine sorrow of a complete double farewell — two remarkable performers, two irreplaceable presences in the landscape of Italian popular cinema, both now gone and both mourned with the lasting affection and genuine gratitude of everyone who loved what they created. Enzo Cannavale — beloved across an extraordinary career spanning five decades of outstanding work in film, television, and theatre, and recognized as one of the finest and most completely gifted comic performers that Naples and Italy ever produced — left us in 2011, his passing mourned by everyone who had grown up watching him and loving every magnificently timed, every perfectly expressed, every completely and utterly human moment he brought to the screen across so many wonderful years of dedicated and generous artistic work. Bud Spencer — the great, the irreplaceable, the eternally beloved Carlo Pedersoli, the man whose laughter filled cinemas from Rome to Tokyo and whose warmth reached hearts in every corner of the globe — departed in June 2016, leaving behind a legacy of joy, generosity, and magnificent human presence that the world of cinema continues to celebrate, to honor, and to miss with a devotion as genuine and as enduring as anything he ever created on screen.

In this image from 1978, however, both men are magnificently, vibrantly, and completely alive — standing side by side in a New York high-rise with the easy, unforced confidence of two performers at the very peak of their considerable powers, entirely unaware that they were creating something that fans around the world would still be watching, still be laughing at, and still be loving nearly fifty years later. That is their legacy, and it is a magnificent one.

06/13/2026

I'M FOR THE HIPPOPOTAMUS (1979): Terence Hill, Bud Spencer, and Mark Shagle — An African Feast, An Unforgettable Trio, and a Double Farewell to Two Giants of the Silver Screen

Released in 1979, I'm for the Hippopotamus delivered Terence Hill and Bud Spencer at their most gloriously exuberant and most completely, joyfully themselves — a sun-drenched African adventure bursting with the kind of anarchic, warm-hearted, and utterly irresistible comic energy that only this legendary duo could generate so effortlessly and so consistently at the absolute peak of their extraordinary partnership. Set against the magnificent backdrop of the African wilderness, the film combined breathtaking natural scenery with the particular brand of cheerful, thunderous mayhem that had made Hill and Spencer the most beloved comedy duo in the history of Italian popular cinema and one of the most recognizable screen partnerships on the entire planet. The addition of the imposing and genuinely memorable Mark Shagle — whose sheer physical presence and natural screen authority added a unique and entertaining third dimension to the dynamic — gave the film an ensemble energy and a comic variety that audiences embraced with immediate and enthusiastic affection.

This magnificent dining table image from 1979 is one of the most purely entertaining and most completely characteristic frames that the entire Hill-Spencer filmography has to offer — Terence Hill on the left, cool and quietly focused amid the considerable abundance of the feast before him, Bud Spencer in the center examining what appears to be a bottle with the particular expression of a man conducting a very serious quality assessment that no one present should dream of interrupting, and Mark Shagle on the right with his hand pressed to his gleaming bald head in a gesture of magnificent, theatrical exasperation that speaks an entire encyclopedia of comic suffering in a single perfectly composed image. The table itself — laden with bread, salad, lobster, cheese, wine glasses, and every imaginable provision of an extravagant outdoor feast — is as characteristically abundant and as characteristically Italian in its generous excess as everything else about this wonderful film, a visual metaphor for the particular quality of joyful, overflowing, completely unapologetic largesse that Bud Spencer and Terence Hill brought to everything they ever touched together.

This tribute, however, carries the tender and genuine sorrow of a double farewell that the years have written beneath this wonderfully alive and wonderfully joyful 1979 image. Mark Shagle — whose powerful physical presence, natural comic timing, and genuine screen authority made him such a memorable and such a valued addition to this particular adventure — left us in 1987, departing far too soon and leaving behind a legacy that those who remember his work continue to honor with real and lasting affection. Bud Spencer — the great, the irreplaceable, the eternally and universally beloved Carlo Pedersoli, the man whose laughter could fill any room and whose warmth could reach any heart anywhere in the world — left us in June 2016, and the grief that followed was felt across every continent with the deep, personal, genuinely aching quality of a loss that millions of devoted fans are still, a decade later, still processing in their own ways and on their own terms.

Terence Hill, still wonderfully and warmly and beautifully present in 2026, remains the last living member of this remarkable 1979 trio — carrying the memory of Bud Spencer and Mark Shagle with the quiet, tender devotion and the deep personal gratitude of a man who knows, more deeply and more completely than anyone, just how rare and how precious and how permanently irreplaceable the magic they created together in Africa in 1979 truly was. This image — the feast, the bottle, the hand on the head, the three men together in the African sun — is their shared monument, and it is magnificent.

06/13/2026

BUD SPENCER AND GIUSEPPE PEDERSOLI (1970): A Father, A Son, and A Love That Transcended Every Screen and Every Legend

This intimate and profoundly moving image from 1970 belongs to a category entirely different from any film still, promotional photograph, or behind-the-scenes production shot — it is something infinitely more precious and infinitely more personal than any of those things. It is a portrait of a father and his son, captured in a quiet, unguarded moment of genuine familial warmth that reveals, with complete and disarming clarity, the real man behind the magnificent screen legend — Carlo Pedersoli, known to the entire world as Bud Spencer, here simply and completely himself, enormous arm draped around his young son Giuseppe with the easy, protective, bear-like tenderness of a father who loves his child with every fiber of his considerable being and has never for a single moment taken that love for granted.

Young Giuseppe — curly-haired, bright-eyed, and possessed already of that particular quality of quiet confidence that comes from growing up in the secure and constant warmth of a father's unconditional devotion — leans into his father's embrace with the natural, unself-conscious ease of a child who has always known exactly where safety and love reside. The smile they share in this image is not performed, not directed, and not manufactured for any camera or any audience — it is the simple, unfiltered expression of two people who genuinely love each other and who are, in this specific and forever-preserved moment, genuinely happy in each other's company in the uncomplicated, irreplaceable way that only the closest of family bonds can produce.

Bud Spencer in 1970 was already well on his way to becoming the cinematic legend that the world would claim so completely and so permanently as its own — the thunderous, bear-hearted, magnificently bearded giant of Italian popular cinema whose fists, whose laugh, and whose enormous human warmth would make him one of the most universally recognized and most passionately loved screen presences on the entire planet across the following decades. But in this image, none of that matters even slightly. What matters is the arm around the boy's shoulder, the shared smile, the completely natural and completely genuine quality of love between a father and his son on an ordinary day in 1970 that someone, thankfully and beautifully, thought to capture forever with a camera.

Giuseppe Pedersoli, still warmly and actively present in 2026 — carrying his father's name, his father's legacy, and his father's extraordinary story forward with the evident pride, deep personal devotion, and genuine filial love of a son who knew the real man behind the legend and treasures that knowledge above everything else — has dedicated significant energy and considerable passion to preserving and celebrating the memory of Carlo Pedersoli in all the fullness and all the humanity of everything he truly was. The younger Giuseppe of 2026 is a man of evident warmth, evident intelligence, and evident pride in his origins — a son shaped profoundly and beautifully by the father whose arm rested so naturally and so lovingly on his young shoulders in that 1970 photograph.

Bud Spencer — the great, the irreplaceable, the eternally beloved Carlo Pedersoli — left this world in June 2016, and the grief that followed was felt across every continent with the genuine, personal, deeply aching quality of loss that only the truly great and the truly warm-hearted ever inspire in those who loved them. But this image, more than any film, more than any fist fight, more than any thunderous screen moment, reveals the truest and most permanent thing about him — that beneath the legend, Carlo Pedersoli was above all else a loving father. And that, perhaps, is the finest thing that can be said about any man.

06/13/2026

DON MATTEO (2000): Terence Hill and Nino Frassica — The Gentle Priest and the Bumbling Marshal, A Partnership That Captured Italy's Heart and Never Let Go

When Don Matteo first graced Italian television screens in the year 2000, it introduced audiences to one of the most warmly beloved and most enduringly entertaining double acts in the entire history of Italian television — the quietly wise, bicycle-riding parish priest Don Matteo, brought to magnificent and deeply moving life by Terence Hill, and the gloriously hapless, magnificently well-meaning, and utterly irresistible Marshal Cecchini, inhabited with such boundless comic genius and such genuine human warmth by the incomparable Nino Frassica that he became, across the extraordinary run of seasons that followed, one of the most beloved and most quoted characters in the entire landscape of Italian popular culture.

This wonderful image from 2000 — set against the vivid backdrop of a boxing ring that speaks to one of the series' many delightfully unexpected storyline diversions, Terence Hill lean and characteristically serene in his priest's black with that unmistakable cross necklace, Nino Frassica resplendent in his Marshal's uniform and clearly in the middle of explaining something of enormous importance that Hill's Don Matteo is receiving with his habitual expression of patient, affectionate amusement — captures the essence of their extraordinary partnership with perfect economy and perfect truth. There is an immediate, instinctive comedy in the contrast between these two men — the stillness and the wisdom of Don Matteo set against the perpetual, irrepressible, magnificently well-intentioned chaos of Marshal Cecchini — that Terence Hill and Nino Frassica exploited with such skill, such timing, and such genuine mutual affection across season after beloved season that their scenes together became the beating comic heart of the entire series and the element that audiences cited most consistently and most enthusiastically when explaining why Don Matteo had claimed such a permanent and irreplaceable place in their weekly viewing lives.

What makes this partnership so particularly special and so particularly worthy of celebration is the quality of genuine friendship and mutual respect that has always been visible between Terence Hill and Nino Frassica both on and off the screen — a warmth and an ease that cannot be manufactured or directed but can only be recognized and honored when it appears naturally between two performers who genuinely like and genuinely appreciate each other as both colleagues and as human beings. Hill brought to Don Matteo a depth, a spirituality, and a quiet moral authority that drew on everything he had learned across five decades of extraordinary screen work while simultaneously revealing entirely new dimensions of his remarkable talent. Frassica brought to Cecchini a comic invention, a physical expressiveness, and a completely original comedic sensibility that made every entrance he made and every line he delivered a source of immediate and irresistible delight.

Both Terence Hill and Nino Frassica are wonderfully, warmly, and actively present and celebrated in 2026 — two remarkable men whose collaboration on Don Matteo has produced one of the longest-running, most consistently beloved, and most genuinely heartwarming series in the history of Italian television. This image is their tribute — Don Matteo and Marshal Cecchini, Terence and Nino, the priest and the marshal, the stillness and the storm, the wisdom and the wonderful, magnificent, irreplaceable chaos that together made something that Italy and the world will cherish for as long as good television is remembered and good laughter is loved.

06/13/2026

A FAMILY PORTRAIT (1979): Terence Hill, Bud Spencer, Maria Amato, and Cristiana Pedersoli — Behind the Legend, A Real and Deeply Loving Family That Made Every Adventure Possible

This extraordinary and profoundly moving image from 1979 is something far more precious and far more intimate than any film still or promotional photograph could ever hope to be — it is a genuine family portrait, a rare and tender window into the private world behind the public legend, capturing Terence Hill and Bud Spencer not as the larger-than-life screen icons the world adored but as the real, warm, and deeply human men they always fundamentally were, surrounded by the women who loved them, supported them, and made everything possible with a devotion and a strength that no biography or filmography could ever fully capture or adequately honor.

Bud Spencer — the magnificent Carlo Pedersoli — stands on the right with the easy, unforced authority of a man completely at home in his own life, his enormous physical presence softened in this context by the unmistakable warmth of a devoted husband and father surrounded by people he loved completely and unconditionally. Beside him, Cristiana Pedersoli — his beloved daughter, young and radiant and full of the particular bright energy of someone growing up in the orbit of something extraordinary — stands with the natural, unself-conscious ease of a young woman entirely comfortable in her family's company and entirely unaware of just how iconic this moment would one day become. Terence Hill, lean and characteristically relaxed in his military cap and safari shirt, stands beside his beloved Maria Amato — his wife, his partner, his constant companion across decades of shared life and shared adventure — with the quiet, unpretentious happiness of a man who has always known exactly where his real treasure lies and has never for a single moment taken it for granted.

Looking at this golden 1979 image and then at the four portraits below it, one is immediately and powerfully struck by the particular bittersweetness of a tribute that is simultaneously a celebration and a farewell. Terence Hill, still wonderfully and warmly present in 2026, carries the decades with the same quiet dignity and genuine contentment that has always characterized him. Maria Amato, equally still with us and warmly celebrated, remains the steady, gracious presence she has always been — a woman whose strength and love were the invisible foundation beneath everything her extraordinary husband ever achieved. Cristiana Pedersoli, the young woman in stripes in the 1979 photograph, is now a grown woman of warmth and grace who carries her father's memory with the particular tender pride of a daughter who knew the real man behind the legend and loved him all the more completely for it.

And Bud Spencer — the great, the irreplaceable, the eternally beloved Carlo Pedersoli — is marked here with the RIP 2016 that his family, his friends, and his millions of fans around the entire world have carried in their hearts with a love and a grief that time has softened but never entirely healed. This image is his most perfect monument — not the fists, not the beard, not the thunderous screen presence, but this: a man in the golden afternoon light of 1979, surrounded by the people he loved most in all the world, completely and utterly himself. That is the Bud Spencer his family knew. And it is, perhaps, the most beautiful thing about him of all.

06/13/2026

WHO FINDS A FRIEND FINDS A TREASURE (1981): Terence Hill, John Fujioka, and Sal Borgese — Friendship, Adventure, and a Bittersweet Farewell to a Beloved Member of the Italian Cinema Family

Released in 1981, Who Finds a Friend Finds a Treasure delivered exactly the kind of sun-drenched, warmly chaotic, and irresistibly entertaining adventure that audiences had come to expect and adore from Terence Hill during this magnificently productive period of his extraordinary career — a tropical island escapade full of buried treasure, comic misadventure, and the particular human warmth that Hill brought so consistently and so generously to every project he undertook throughout the golden years of Italian popular cinema. The film's title itself — so simple, so direct, and so genuinely true — speaks to the values that ran as a golden thread through the very best work of this entire era, reminding audiences that the real treasure in any adventure worth having is never the gold at the end but the friendship forged along the way.

Terence Hill, lean and blue-eyed and radiating his trademark effortless charisma, anchored the film with the natural authority and playful physical grace that had made him one of European cinema's most beloved and most consistently watchable leading men across more than two decades of outstanding work. John Fujioka, the distinguished and highly respected Japanese-American actor whose long and impressive career spanned both Hollywood productions and independent film, brought to his role a focused intelligence, a quiet dignity, and a genuine dramatic authority that added real depth and texture to the film's colorful ensemble. Sal Borgese, that wonderfully expressive and physically gifted Italian character actor whose acrobatic energy and natural comic timing had made him a beloved and instantly recognizable fixture of the Italian popular cinema of this entire golden era, contributed his own distinctive and enormously entertaining presence to the adventure with the generous, committed enthusiasm that characterized everything he ever did on screen.

This vivid and wonderfully absurd image from 1981 — Terence Hill crouching attentively over two heads buried in the sand, one belonging to the mustachioed John Fujioka and the other to the magnificently disheveled Sal Borgese, both men apparently resigned to their sandy predicament with varying degrees of philosophical acceptance — captures the particular anarchic joy and gleefully inventive physical comedy that made Who Finds a Friend Finds a Treasure such a warm and fondly remembered entry in Hill's remarkable solo filmography. It is an image that makes one laugh immediately and instinctively, which is precisely what the very best Italian comedies of this era were designed to do and which the very best of them achieved with a consistency and a generosity that the world has never stopped appreciating.

Terence Hill, still wonderfully and warmly present in 2026, carries the memory of his two co-stars with the quiet affection and deep gratitude of a man who recognizes how much richness and how much joy the right ensemble can bring to any project. Sal Borgese, beloved and irreplaceable, departed in 1981 — the very year this film was released — leaving behind a legacy of physical comedy, infectious energy, and genuine screen warmth that Italian cinema mourned deeply and continues to honor with lasting affection. John Fujioka, equally missed, left us in 2018 after a long and distinguished career that earned him the deep respect and genuine admiration of everyone who had the privilege of working alongside him or watching him work. This image honors all three — the friend still with us, and the two friends forever found.

06/12/2026

BUD SPENCER (1930 – 2016): Four Portraits of a Giant — From a Neapolitan Baby to a Cinematic Legend Whose Warmth and Laughter the World Will Never Stop Celebrating

This extraordinary four-panel tribute to the life and legacy of Carlo Pedersoli — the man the entire world came to love as Bud Spencer — tells a story so rich, so full, and so genuinely extraordinary that it could only belong to one of the most remarkable human beings the twentieth century ever produced. Four images, four decades, four chapters of a life lived with such completeness, such passion, and such magnificent generosity of spirit that looking at them in sequence feels less like viewing a biographical document and more like watching a force of nature take gradual, triumphant, and utterly irreversible shape.

The 1930 image stops the heart completely. Here is the baby Carlo Pedersoli — born October 31st, 1929, in Naples, a wide-eyed, round-cheeked, perfectly innocent infant sitting in his little grey knitted sweater with the serene, curious expression of a child who has absolutely no idea that he is destined to become one of the most recognized, most beloved, and most joyfully celebrated screen presences in the entire history of world cinema. There is something almost sacred about this image — the pure, unformed potential of a life that would unfold into something so vast, so colorful, and so permanently significant that millions of people across every continent would feel its warmth and carry its laughter within them for the rest of their own lives.

By 1947, the baby has become a strikingly handsome young man — dark-haired, broad-shouldered, already carrying in his frame the suggestion of the extraordinary physical presence that would later make him utterly unique among screen performers. But it is not yet the cinema that claims Carlo Pedersoli's most passionate attention — it is the swimming pool. For this young man in his white suit and careful tie is already training with the fierce dedication and the natural physical gifts that would make him one of Italy's finest competitive swimmers, ultimately representing his country at the Olympic Games and achieving the historic distinction of becoming the first Italian to swim 100 metres freestyle in under one minute. It is an athletic achievement of genuine historical significance that speaks to the extraordinary discipline, the competitive fire, and the sheer physical capability that would later translate so magnificently into the thunderous screen energy of Bud Spencer.

The 1970 image is where Carlo Pedersoli completes his most spectacular transformation and becomes, fully and permanently, the legend we know and love. Wild-haired, magnificently bearded, battle-worn and ferociously alive, this is Bud Spencer at the absolute volcanic peak of his cinematic powers — the face that launched a thousand fistfights, that conveyed entire emotional landscapes in a single furious glance, and that somehow managed to be simultaneously terrifying and irresistibly lovable in ways that no other actor before or since has ever quite succeeded in replicating. Beside Terence Hill, his beloved partner and lifelong friend, this version of Bud Spencer gave the world some of the most joyful, most liberating, and most permanently cherished comedies in the entire history of popular film — a gift of laughter and human warmth so generous and so completely genuine that it crossed every border and every language barrier with effortless and permanent grace.

The final portrait — an older Bud Spencer, white-bearded and magnificently dignified, still carrying in his eyes and his smile the warmth, the humor, and the enormous humanity that had always been his most defining and most precious qualities — shows a man who had lived every dimension of his extraordinary life to its absolute and complete fullest. He departed this world in June 2016, leaving behind a grief so vast and so genuinely felt that it confirmed, beyond any possible doubt, just how deeply and how permanently this remarkable man had embedded himself in the hearts of generations of devoted fans. From the 1930 baby to the eternal legend — Carlo Pedersoli, Bud Spencer, was simply, magnificently, and irreplaceably one of a kind.

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