La muerte llama a las 10

'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!

The film opens with some guy getting his throat cut in an airport toilet by a mystery figure, then switches to focus on Peggy, girlfriend of Michael, a photo-journalist who has been in Vietnam for some time and isn't showing any interest in coming home. Peggy therefore lives alone in her London apartment, with the usual variety of creepy/weird neighbours/housekeepers living around her, what with this being a giallo and what not.

Peggy is an artist and just about everyone she knows is a complete areshole, from the lecherous guy whom she submits her art too (who keeps putting the moves on her), to Michael's ex-girlfriend Jackie (who is a total b**ch) to her upstairs, bass playing, cat loving neighbour upstairs (who looks like a time travelling, elderly Nick Cave). Peggy needs cash and as Michael off in the 'Nam she figures she might as well rent his apartment out, because that always works out well in this kind of film.

Her new tenant turns out to Bruno Corazzari, and he seems kind of okay as he's not putting the moves on her quite as much as any other man in her life. Then again, he's wearing creepy mirrored glasses and starts rifling around in Michael's room the moment Peggy leaves. Lo and behold, the next thing that happen is that Michael is on the phone, he's back in Blighty, and wants to meet Peggy at an abandoned hangar. Or was that bit after the bit where Corazzari takes a dive off the building, leaving a corpse with a smashed up face? I can't remember. By the way, corpses with smashed up faces aren't good news in gialli, unlike in real life.

Also, later that day, Peggy's new tenant turns up as a different guy, confusing her. What's going? What's happening? Who's that in there? This being a standard giallo, various murders start taking place, except for one character who falls in front of a subway train rather stupidly. There are many red herrings but it was easy to guess the killer. In saying that, it didn't stop me enjoying the film. You've got your usual giallo traits (boobs) and a smattering of gore (smattering not being a word you use in say, McDonalds: "I'll have a Big Mac and a smattering of chips."), and the soundtrack was nice and funky.

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.

Spanish Giallo's don't tend to be as good as the bona fide Italian ones, and this film supports that fact. The top of the range Spanish Giallo's include the likes of A Dragonfly for Each Corpse and Seven Murders for Scotland Yard (both starring prolific Spanish horror star Paul Naschy), but The Killer Wore Gloves is pretty much your standard Giallo fare, and was obviously made to cash on the popular style of the day. However, in its own right - The Killer Wore Gloves is not an especially bad film, though the plot isn't exactly original and it could have been carried better. The film begins with a man getting his throat slashed by an unseen assailant with a razor blade. His girlfriend, Peggy Foster, later learns of his disappearance and is drawn to an old abandoned airport, where she is shot at but manages to get away unscathed. Things take a turn for the more mysterious when the lodger she took in turns up dead - and also happens to be an impostor when the real lodger turns up!

The fact that the plot is complicated isn't a problem at all if you ask me (quite the opposite in fact) as I love a good complicated Giallo - but despite it's complexity, the plot here isn't all that interesting. This is unfortunately matched by some lacklustre cinematography, which is a real shame as this is one of the things that makes the Giallo genre as a whole stand out, but it's not capitalised on here. The acting is typically standard stuff, but Gillian Hills (who was a part of the influential 'Blow-Up') at least makes for an engaging lead. The film takes place in London, and unlike a lot of Giallo's that take place outside of their native country - this one is actually shot on location, which is nice. The plot moves steadily throughout and at just eighty five minutes, The Killer Wore Gloves doesn't really have time to get boring. It all boils down to an interesting conclusion that just about justifies the film that came before it and almost wraps everything up. Overall, I can't say that this is a must see Giallo, but it's not terrible and Giallo fans are likely to get something out of it.

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.