A Luva Negra

Alex Nicoll is an American jazz trumpeter playing London with his band to happy audiences. After an exhausting show, he begs off a party arranged by his manager, John Salew; he needs sleep. He is distracted from this purpose by gorgeous singer Ann Hanslip. After a spaghetti dinner in her apartment, he heads off to get that sleep, only to be woken by the police. Miss Hanslip is dead, murdered, and he is a person of interest. As is usual in the movie world, he figures he has to clear himself, and starts to investigate.

That movie cliche aside, this is a fine movie. Although I don't have the high opinion of director Terence Fisher that others have, this is a superior movie, thanks in part to DP Walter J. Harvey's crisp lighting, but also a nice handling of the jazz world that Nicoll moves through. Add in a score by Kenny Baker -- the British trumpeter, cornetist, and flugelhorn player -- who also does the trumpet playing doubled by Nicoll, and you have a movie that is an enthralling proof that Fisher was actually a very talented director.

As a deeply passionate by Noir genre I used never give under seven in any of this kind, this is widely perceived a minor movie about an American high-profile trumpet jazz player James Bradley (Alex Nicol) arrives on London to do a British tour, after the show tired he accidently meets with a blonde gorgeous singer Maxine Halbartd (Ann Hanslip) which she invites him to a dinner at her home, the chemistry is blatant perceived, lately James leaving there, although someone entered in the Maxine's apartment, in the dawn James was wake up by the police asking where he was that night, he receives the bad news about Maxine's death, then he starts his own investigation, taking him on dangerous places at London, among fights, misunderstandings he is reaching of the truth, between a live show and countless research he will slowly getting to the point, an American British co-production on Hammer's label this movie is slow paced, but intriguing and too much complex adrift quite often, Alex Nicol doesn't fits on so-called handsome star, he usually was a good supporting casting, overall the picture wasn't so bad at all, beside it is a Noir movie!!

Resume:

First watch: 2020 / How many: 1 / Source: DVD / Rating: 7

It's difficult to believe that THE Terrence Fisher directed this slog of a mystery about the folks who inhabit the world of smoky jazz clubs. A scene in which Alex Nicol starts trouble in a tough London club and is able to just stroll out without a group of guys looking like they're auditioning for Reservoir Dogs kicking his head in is ridiculous. Mostly studio bound on cheap sets, the film wastes an opportunity to shoot good location footage. The two detectives investigating the murder of the pretty jazz singer mainly sit on their lardasses for most of the running time. The big reveal is a big nothing.

Alex Nicol (Bradley) is a famous American trumpet player on tour in the UK who is exhausted and wants to go to bed. He encounters singer Ann Hanslip (Maxine) whilst on his way home and she invites him to her place for something to eat. The next morning he is a murder suspect as she has been bumped off in the night and it doesn't help that he has left his trumpet at her apartment. The film follows Nicol's efforts to get to the bottom of what has happened.

It's a mystery that leads you through many scenarios and it is quite complicated so make sure you keep up with all the characters. There are some great scenes, eg, the first meeting between Nicol and Hanslip when she is singing in a club and he gets out his trumpet and starts blowing out his tune at her. Ha ha. It is hilarious. There is some choice dialogue along the way and the film is quite funny (apart from the comedy character manager and some idiot selling trumpets) although I'm not sure it is always intentional. And God knows why Nicol solves the crime instead of the police. But so what.

This film has a great setting in the world of bedsits and nightclubs and it is interesting to see London in the 1950s. This brings me to the main reason I purchased this film. It has the street where I grew up - Elvaston Place - listed in the filming location. Sure enough, about 45 minutes into the film, Nicol exits a taxi to visit singer Eleanor Summerfield (Barbara) and there is my street. Not only that, but you can see the house I grew up in in the 1970s. That was an extra bonus. What is also funny is that the house that he visits (no. 12) had a couple of drug dealers living in the basement flat during the 1990s & 2000s. So, this scene brought back a slice of social history and many memories for me.

At one point, my wife said "Oh look, it's him from 'It Ain't Half Hot Mum'", the 1970s British sitcom set in the Burma jungle. I missed him but on checking the cast list, she was right - it's the little gay one. He plays a bellhop. Step forward Melvyn Hayes. "We're all going on a summer holiday" - "SHUUUUT UUP!" - ha ha.

My copy of the film is called "The Black Glove". Goodness knows why.

Taking advantage of arrangements favoured by the UK's Eady levy (a state film subsidy established after the war) in 1950, American producer Robert Lippert formed a business alliance with Hammer studios. Under the agreement, Lippert would provide American acting talent - frequently shop-worn stars or just supporting actors who fancied a profitable trip out of the country - while Hammer would supply the rest of the cast and the production facilities. Together they would split the profits. Famous for his concern with the bottom line, Lippert produced over 140 films between 1946 and 1955, characteristically genre pieces such as I Shot Jesse James or Rocketship XM. For the British deal, most of the films were noir-ish thrillers. None were entirely of the first rank, but they remain never less than entertaining, and include THE BLACK GLOVE.

The presence of Alex Nichol and the trumpet playing of Kenny Ball somewhat compensate for weaknesses elsewhere in The Black Glove (aka: Face The Music, 1953) a thriller set in a London world of basement jazz clubs, recording studios and dingy flats. The genial Nichol, perhaps best remembered today for his role as the rancher's crazed son in The Man From Laramie (1955), plays hero James Bradley, a musician who picks up a singer after a London concert, only for her to be murdered shortly after. Following the familiar pattern, Bradley has to discover the real killer and clear himself of suspicion. Nichol gives a likable performance as the trumpet player in a film that includes an archetypal noir voice-over as well as Kenny Ball's frequently soulful contribution on brass, which both add a good deal to the atmosphere. The opening, mutual attraction between Bradley and victim Maxine, played out over music, is especially fine. The intensity between kindred spirits recalls the first meeting in Gun Crazy (1950) while their later scenes just after, expressing their growing romance in cynical rhyming couplets ("Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, show me a woman a man can trust," etc), is also memorable. Bradley's continuous, professed lack of sleep adds to the dream-like mood of the piece. Maxine's sister Barbara works in Soho's Underground Club - "the sort of place you live horizontally or not at all" and most of the clues are found in and around the music produced there. The end of the film is more disappointing, a curious throwback to traditional whodunits, with principal suspects and interested police gathered together in a single room, so that the killer can be progressively unmasked. It's a clumsy and unconvincing narrative device. Director Fisher would later be associated with many of Hammer's celebrated Gothic horror releases.