Nicolas Cage told Esquire magazine his character in “Spider-Noir” is “70 percent Bogart and 30 percent Bugs Bunny.” But even that Looney Tunes description doesn’t quite capture the inspired insanity of Cage’s performance in this uneven but visually popping and admirably bold film-noir comic-book tale. Cage switches gears about 147 times in “Spider-Noir”—affecting different accents and inflections, engaging in broad physical comedy, bursting into song when it’s least expected, laughing in moments that are deadly serious, offering commentary on events as they transpire.

At the outset of “Spider-Noir,” Ben’s detective agency has fallen on hard times. The phone has been turned off, there’s virtually no foot traffic coming through the door, and Ben’s sassy assistant Janet (a scene-stealing Karen Rodriguez) is on the verge of quitting because she’s not getting paid. That all changes when Ben is hired—under false pretenses—to do surveillance on Li Jun Li’s Cat Hardy, a sultry nightclub singer who is essentially the prisoner of the mob kingpin known as Silvermane (Brendan Gleeson), who has been ruling the city unchecked since The Spider went into cobwebs (sorry) a half decade earlier.

Over the course of eight deliberately paced episodes (things drag a bit in the middle section), “Spider-Noir” introduces a tangled web (sorry again) of storylines. Jack Huston is outstanding as Silvermane’s muscle, Flint Marko, who is becoming trapped in his Sandman alter ego. Andrew Lewis Caldwell is spectacularly entertaining as Dirk Leydon/Megawatt, who quotes Shakespeare and fancies himself as the star of his own serial killer movie, while Abraham Popoola is a quietly powerful force as Lonnie Lincoln/Tombstone. All three of these troubled souls are mutating with alarming rapidity—but what’s the common thread?

The various and intertwining plot lines in “Spider-Noir” aren’t as gripping and visceral as, say, the recent “The Penguin” series. Much of my enjoyment stems from the consistent nods to the films of the period, from the music choices, e.g., “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” to the atmospheric cinematography, to tributes to films such as the pre-code “Below the Sea” (1933) starring Ralph Bellamy and Fay Wray, to the James Cagney vehicle “Great Guy” (1936). Ben knows the dialogue to the latter film by heart, and he’s such a movie buff that he references Tod Browning’s audacious and provocative 1932 film “Freaks.” He’s also a bit…strange, due to the traumas of his past and the recurring Spidey-sense migraines—and who better than Cage to hit those notes? Cage never makes a safe choice—at one point doing an Edward G. Robinson impersonation, because why not?

Whether in Authentic Black and White or True Hue Full Color, “Spider-Man” has earned a unique place in this particular universe.