The Killer Wore Gloves

Not a very imaginative title for this largely Spanish take on the giallo and director, Juan Bosch does not turn out a very inspired movie. His main asset seems to be a pretty, Gillian Hills, born in Cairo but presumably of British parents. She did a fair bit including small parts in Blow Up and Clockwork Orange, presumably exploiting her looks and also the sublime, Demons of the Mind, though I don't recall how well she did in that what with the antics of Robert Hardy and Patrick Magee. Anyway, in this she is good, effortlessly batting aside stupid dialogue, idiotic assumptions and general lack of coherent plot development. Apart from the pleasure of Gillian there are the many shots, mainly night time ones, of 70s London although there is one delicious scene where we are driving out of London and find ourselves in the back streets of some Spanish village before the continuity team restore order. Its pleasant and diverting enough but not worth going out of ones way for.

The Killer Wore Gloves is one of the specific subset of giallo films that are of Spanish origin. Despite this one being a Spanish-Italian co-production, it's certainly fair to say that it's primarily an Iberian film. Like other examples of this type, it's of a bit lower quality than its average Italian counterpart, while still essentially being decent overall. As is so often the way in this particular sub-genre, it sports a plot-line that is somewhat convoluted. Set in London, events kick off with the murder of a man in an airport restroom for possession of an enigmatic briefcase. At the same time, a young woman thinks she has spotted her boyfriend driving around in the city, a man who has hitherto gone missing. The girl also has taken in a new tenant to share her home with, a very odd man who wears shades indoors at all times. He soon turns up dead after an apparent suicide. Making matters even worse, an attempt is made on the girl's life by an unknown assassin and this is followed by a bunch of other inter-related murders.

It's a fairly complicated story full of the usual gaggle of red herrings and oddball side characters that typify films from this genre. The murder set-pieces themselves involve a variety of weaponry and there is a modicum of suspense generated. The on location London settings were fine, while Gillian Hills made for a good enough heroine. It is, however, not an especially stylish effort by this genre's usual standards and it's really a fairly middling example of this type of movie on the whole. But, that said, if you are a fan of the genre I know that one thing is for sure and that is that more of the same is never exactly a bad thing. And this entry, while basically unremarkable, still has the good sense to deliver the bread and butter elements of the genre. At the end of the day though, for giallo connoisseurs, I think that overall the most interesting feature in this one is its Spanish origins.

This is one of those films where it's hard to know what to make of the story until right at the end. The back-story is well hidden, with only occasional dialogue references to a Vietnam photojournalist named "Michael", and the visual of a mysterious black briefcase that comes into the possession of Michael's girlfriend in London. The plot takes place almost entirely in London and is focused on the girlfriend. Along the way, at least one person is murdered. A couple of characters function as red herrings. And that's about it, until the end.

There are a couple of spooky segments; one takes place in a deserted old airplane hanger, accompanied by semi-noir lighting and the shadow of someone holding a gun. The killer tools around on a motorcycle, dressed entirely in black leather. I correctly figured out the killer's identity, but I missed the motive.

The story is fairly simple and is explained quickly. But viewers expect that a high-quality giallo will have striking visuals, spine-tingling suspense, and a surprise ending. "The Killer Wore Gloves" spends so much plot time on the girlfriend, the killer and this person's movements are not accentuated, which detracts from suspense. The ending I had figured out about two-thirds of the way through.

Visuals at best are mediocre for the giallo genre. They're not bad. But the lighting could have been spookier in combination with more scenes devoted to the killer. Sound quality is muffled, especially near the beginning. Even at the end, poor sound quality covers up part of the killer's explanation. Intermittent background music is frantic and annoying. Casting is acceptable, but Gillian Hills is not a very good actress in the role of the girlfriend.

This Euro-cinema whodunit is worth a one time watch for viewers who appreciate the giallo genre. But a general audience will probably not be impressed, as production values trend somewhat low and acting quality is not especially good.

'The Killer Wore Gloves' aka 'La muerte llama a las 10' (1974) is an entertaining, though unexceptional Gialli with a genuinely likable performance from the delicious Gillian Hills; who unwittingly lets out the flat above to a somewhat nefarious character which acts as the lurid catalyst for many bloody deaths and equally gaudy red herrings that predictably ensue. Outside of the grubby London exteriors what initially galvanized my interested about 'The Killer wore Gloves' was the fiery head-noddingly beatific, groove-laden, prog sounds of Marcello Giombini, his thunderous, Goblin-esque soundtrack must surely be ripe for a remastered release at some juncture? This rich, jazzy and eclectic soundtrack really lifts the admittedly prosaic plot into something rather special, well it certainly did something 'special' to me anyway! Even today, 'La muerte llama a las 10' remains somewhat of an obscure Giallo, no doubt due to the tangible lack of cinematic flair or invention from Herr Bosch; but the lividly luminous presence of Ms. Hills and the magnificent funky, joy-inducing jazz riffs of the maestro cine-groove Giombini really should make this funkily far-out Gialli one to track down; especially if your interests lie within the giddy realms of the mid-seventies Italian slasher. Right, time to peruse my collection to see what other gorgeous Giombini can be unearthed for my edification later on tonight!

Considering I'm a self-acclaimed giallo film aficionado, I simply must start this review with a pointless rant about how ludicrous and goddamn obvious the international English title is. "The Killer Wore Gloves"… Is that seriously the best title they could come up with? I've seen approximately 120 gialli so far, and in more than 75% of all titles the killer – or killers - always wears gloves. The black (leather) gloves of the killer are one of the main giallo trademarks, along with the convoluted plot-twists and the misogynic violence. There's something wrong with all titles of this particular giallo, in fact. The original Spanish title "La Muerta Llama a las 10" somewhat translates as "Death Calls at 10 O'Clock", which is admittedly a much cooler title but doesn't have any link with the events in the film. And the Italian release titles goes like "The Warm Lips of the Killer". Quite awesome too, but the killer doesn't do anything with his/her lips neither.

But anyways, enough about the title issues! "The Killer Wore Gloves" is a Spanish giallo, and they are usually not as well-known or popular as their colleagues from Italy. The fact that it is still extremely obscure and hard to find also means that it's not a fantastic overlooked treasure of 70s Euro-cinema. Still, I would definitely recommend checking out "The Killer Wore Gloves" to more experienced giallo fans because it contains a handful of suspenseful sequences, an exhilarating score, an incredibly beautiful lead actress and a fairly satisfying & ingenious twist ending. The film begins with the lovely Peggy Foster (Gillian Hills) spotting her boyfriend Michael in a car in the center of London, even though his supposed to be fighting in Vietnam. Shortly after Peggy welcomes the creepy new tenant John Kirk Lawford in the apartment above hers, but when she returns from a fruitless attempt to meet up with Michael, the tenant apparently committed suicide by jumping from the apartment balcony. Then, while she's being interrogated by the police, another man rings the doorbell and claims to be the new tenant named John Kirk Lawford. Oh and meanwhile there's a killer – with gloves – slicing up Peggy's acquaintances with a nasty type of sickle. In all honesty the story really isn't that interesting or compelling, but you keep watching (or at least I did) because Peggy is such a likable female lead and you don't want her to get hurt. Gillian Hills depicts her as the ideal damsel in distress and it probably also helps that she has a couple of extended topless sequences. The rather unknown but prolific Spanish director Juan Bosch makes the most out of the scenes where Peggy wanders around her flat all petrified, with loud penetrating music, assuming there is someone there who intends to hurt her. There's some nice London scenery to admire as well as a couple of pointless but entertaining supporting characters, like a naked Orchidea de Santis and a cat-worshiping gay neighbor.