down the tubis: the glove

While Alfred Hitchcock’s filmography is a cathedral of suspense, meticulously crafted and laden with psychological complexity, "The Glove" (1979) should not be approached as a simple genre picture, but rather as a raw, almost-documentary-like exploration of the underbelly of human desperation. Where Hitchcock often worked in the realm of the psychological and the symbolic, "The Glove" operates on a more visceral, almost existential plane.

The premise—an ex-cop-turned-bounty hunter pursuing a "giant-sized ex-con donning body armor and steel-plated gauntlets"—is, on its surface, a pulpy B-movie conceit. However, to see it merely as such is to miss its deeper, more unsettling truth. This is not a story of a brilliant detective outsmarting a cunning adversary, as in Vertigo or Rear Window. Instead, "The Glove" is a stark and brutal descent into a world where justice is a commodity, and survival is the only true motive. The "giant-sized ex-con" is not a villain in the mold of Norman Bates; he is a force of nature, a manifestation of society's failure and its raw, untamed violence. The film's suspense does not come from a slow-burn of psychological tension, but from the ever-present threat of physical brutality, the sense that at any moment, the fragile veneer of civilization could be ripped away.

Ross Hagen’s direction, while lacking the balletic precision of Hitchcock, possesses a gritty, unpolished authenticity that is its own form of artistry. The camera is not a detached observer; it is a participant, breathing in the squalor of the urban landscape and the desperate energy of its inhabitants. The film’s pacing is relentless, a continuous forward motion that mirrors the inexorable march of fate. There are no clever MacGuffins or red herrings here; the conflict is direct, brutal, and unadorned.

The performance of John Saxon as the bounty hunter is a revelation. He is not a charming hero, but a man worn down by the world, a figure of moral ambiguity whose motivations are more about survival than principle. His performance is a testament to the idea that a character's true depth can be found not in their words, but in the tired lines on their face and the desperate look in their eyes.

To compare "The Glove" to a Hitchcock film is to compare a street fight to a chess match. One is a game of calculated moves and cunning intellect, the other a raw, unpredictable burst of violence. "The Glove" is not a film to be appreciated for its elegance, but to be respected for its honesty, its refusal to flinch from the brutality of its subject matter. It is a film that takes the audience not on a journey of psychological thrills, but on a harrowing ride through the darker corners of the human experience. While it may not have the polish of a masterwork like Psycho, it has a truthfulness that is just as profound and just as chilling.