Oh yeah, I remember now. It was, "There's no truth in advertising".

After reading it's review over on the Brotherhood of Bad Movies website, I picked this skankburger up off of a certain super intra-web-net highway auction site that shall go nameless, because that's where everybody shops and I'm trying to keep my reputation as a Death God with his fingers on the pulse of the net's "alternative" culture... and I don't mean the one with all the teenage boys getting accosted by retirement communities because they're confused about their sexuality, or those guys who pose as girls to have cybersex with straight guys because they're curious about trying "new horizons", but lack the confidence to be real with themselves... Gah, okay, enough with the gay/bi-curious teenager jokes, cuz I'm sure John Saxon and some guy trying to tell us he's Rosey Grier wouldn't want me ruining a review for their fine cinematic suppository with such things...

Then again, that would mean I wouldn't be talking about the movie's contents or baffling existence, so that teenage boy stuff could work in Mr. Saxon's favor...

But then I wouldn't be doing my job as a Death God and part time disco super monster, and the DMV would revoke my license... that's of course the "Department of Movie Viewers", not to be confused with the "Department of Motor Vehicles", the "Department of Mathematician Vegetarians" or the "Department of Martial-Arts Vampires", who gave Thomas Tang his creative license... which he of course had suspended immediately following my reviews of Vampire Raiders - Ninja Queen and Robo Vampire. Sorry Tang, but this isn't just a hobby, this position has responsibilities and... well... I'm actually not sorry in the least, so go bitch to the confused young film student boy locked in your bedroom closet.

See how I so masterfully came back around with that whole subject? Trust me, it all ties into The Glove sooner or later...

Oh shit! I almost forgot about the damn movie! Man, this review is turning into that time I left my little brother in the microwave when my parents had entrusted me with babysitting duties for the first time!

... or was that a Sweet Valley High book?

Not that I ever read those mind you...

And now we return to our regularly scheduled review, which I can avoid no longer.

It's late at night. The sun's long gone and the darkness has set in, like it so often does... duh. A prison security guard is picked up from work by his wife, neither person of which is attractive, yet the two drive off to a vacant warehouse to make out in the back of their ugly '70s mobile anyway. While slapping their greasy lips all over each other like two buckets of KFC Extra Shiny Recipe™ thrust together in a fit of not-so-fast-food passion, a huge black man dressed in a flack jacket, motorcycle helmet and big cast iron riot glove breaks up their slobbering with some good old fashioned violence. Thank you sir, whomever you may be, for ending what could have turned into one of the most visually indigestible scenes of personal trauma since 70+ year old Mae Young dropped her top in a bathing suit contest at Wrestlemania 17!

Literally tearing the car to pieces with his mighty glove and brute strength, the assailant also finds time to beat the living crap straight out of the fat lumpy excuse for a man, leaving him a bloodied pile of carved lard while the wife screams much like she'd been during the entire length of the attack. It hasn't done anything to help her situation yet, but if she keeps it up, who knows what she might accomplish... Isis forbid that she should try and help by running the guy over or something! It's times like this I'm glad my girlfriend used to play hockey and would kill in my name... which isn't to say she hasn't already...

The following morning, far away from the scene of the crime, in the safety of the suburbs, ex-shortstop-turned-bounty hunter Sam Kellogg trades witty banter with his young daughter before dropping her off at school and fretting over how he's going to make his latest child support payment to Lisa's momma, his ex-wife. The first step toward making that money and buying his visitation rights for another month? A bail jumper named Charles Gardener. Donning his track suit of power and heading to the address at which his latest paycheck is said to be hiding out, he finds a skinny mustachioed man in a speedo playing his flute in a hot tub. Our hero then engages in an embarrassing chase scene as he attempts handcuffing the little flamer in the saddest few minutes of John Saxon's career. But Sam learns the hard way that a good bounty hunter always gets a visual image of his prey when it turns out this fuzzy beanpole isn't Chuck, but the guy's boyfriend! Will the real Mr. Gardener please stand up? Yes, and he's played by none other than Nicholas "Larry Drake threw my fat ass out a window in Darkman" Worth! A little more hair keepin' his head warm of course, but it's good ol' Nick! A small brawl ensues, ending with Sam almost drowning Charlie with a pool skimmer before restraining him and hauling him off to the pokey to collect his dough: a mere $300. Hell, with a car the size of the boat he's sailing, $300 a week isn't gonna take him far, let alone cover back child support! No, Sam needs a big score (or a smaller car), someone he can bring in and retire on the reward for, and I think we all know the form that score is gonna come in: big, black and baring a fist of steel... or he could just bring in O.J., that'd work too.

Reporting back to his reward connection Bill Schwartz, a lovable old coot who looks out for his soldiers of fortune like they were his own kids (or his meal tickets...), Sam tries pumping him for some higher paying jobs, the kind that'll bring him the money that makes his job worthwhile and the kind that might just give him the glory he's looking for... the glory of being a bounty hunter... Personally, I had no idea that bounty hunters apparently captured criminals then collected their cash from old guys in bad hats. I was under the impression there was some kind of state funded department that issued these rewards. Eh, I still don't get the '70s. Anyway, Bill denies Sam his wishes, warranting concern for the man's well being and not wanting him to get killed or mortally wounded on a job he set him up with. Besides, there's probably some bounty hunting law that says the old guy in the matching vest and cap needs to pick up child support costs for any rent-a-vigilantes killed while on a job for him, lest he be taken to "The Peoples' Court".

Contacted by Lt. Krueger, the head of the local pig pen, Sam makes a visit to the station, where it's assumed that he was a member of "the Heat" himself at one point in the two decades since his days tossing balls, given the chief's question of if Sam "wanted his old job back". Turns out this isn't a social call though, as the man actually has a small not-so-legal job for everyone's new favorite bounty hunter. This job comes under the name of Victor Hale: an ex-con who did a few years for beating a pimp into "mashed potatoes" and has turned his knack for pummeling toward prison guards. Just in case you haven't made the obvious connection, Victor's that big dude with the titular riot gear accessory. It's a dangerous job that involves sending a piece of Wonder Bread™ like Mr. Kellogg into the deepest, darkest (no pun intended, honestly) depths of the slums of 1970s LA. Hey, maybe he'll run into Charles Bronson while he's down there and they can do a buddy pic!

Turns out Victor also graduated at the top of his class, has a high IQ, is a very talented jazz musician and enjoys long walks on moonlit beaches... after crippling fat old white guys who work for the proverbial "man". It's because of that last little character flaw that Vic's got an off-the-record reward on his head for $20,000, put there by the Prison Guard Association. It's doubtful they're offering such a high take for the man purely out of vengeance for their fallen comrades (who aren't even dead following the attacks anyway), so you have to wonder what the ulterior motive is for wanting Mr. Hale "Dead or Alive" is. Though there are already some 5-0 on the case, if Sam can produce Victor to Krueger first, he'll get a substantial chunk of that twenty-grand and maybe the spotlight he's been looking for that was denied him as a shortstop. Not a big surprise really, as few major league shortstops are ever recognized for their abilities to cover the spot between second and third base. Hell, the only famous shortstop that comes to my mind is Cal Ripken, and that's just because he's came to work for something like 20 years straight without a sick day or something. Hey, he's cinched his spot in the Baseball Hall of Fame for his stellar attendance record, and that's gotta count for something, right? No? Oh, okay, fuck him then.

Turns out that big glove Vic's carryin' around was prison issued to the guards as part of their riot gear a few years ago before ultimately being deemed as excessive and outlawed. Victor picked it up from his first victim, who had it stashed amidst a personal arsenal along with the rest of the gear that our man mountain pilfered following the assault, although I doubt that the motorcycle helmet he wears was ever part of anyone's "riot gear". Then again, when your budget is so blatantly lacking as it is here, you make use of what you can find and hope the power of imaginaaaaation :::conjures up a rainbow::: can do the rest... and wind up getting booed and harassed by viewers of your crappy movies for the rest of your useless life.

Sam's not the only one in on this little illegal contract though, as one of his competitors in the manhunting game (namely a scalphunter called Harry Iverson), is also after Victor. The difference between Sam and Harry though is Sam's humanity keeps him from abusing his rights as a licensed bounty hunter, while Harry willingly abuses his to the fullest extent of his license, doing whatever it takes (legal or not so much so), to bring in his paychecks. While working on picking up Victor's trail though Sam can't just sit around letting the alimony payments pile up, so we get to watch as our intrepid bounty hunter does a few more little jobs here and there, including a little old lady who stole a few thousand from her sleezeball employer in a cutesy little "Sam Kellogg: bounty hunter with a heart of gold" moment, followed by a fight & chase sequence with a killer named Cookie (!?) in a meat processing plant. The hilarity of two guys hitting each other with pieces of meat by-product does a 360 and ends in tragedy though, as LA's lightest-hearted soldier of fortune is forced to gun down the killer in desperation when his only other option is to let the goon ventilate him with a meathook. Despite his regret over how the situation ended, Sam's biggest fear is that Lisa will find out that her daddy's responsible for ending another man's life. Hey Sam it's okay, nobody in LA has a real "life" to speak of anyway, so don't feel so bad! Besides, you'll have plenty of money from killing Cookie (again, "?!") to fill that emptiness in your soul for the time being.

More convinced than ever that he's gotta get out of this bounty hunting racket, Sam ups his efforts to find Victor Hale. Speaking of which, Vic's reinforcing his humanity to the audience as he shoots smiles to the members of his impoverished community and teaches a young ghetto boy how to play jazz on the white man's guitar. When he finds out that Sam's been sniffin' around his people though, Vic calls up "Hound Dog" and tells him to back off, cuz in 36 hours he's leavin' town for New Orleans and there's no way he's goin' back to jail, whether it be by a bounty hunter's hand or the stubby fingers of the fat blue line. Not one to let little things like threatening phone calls get him down, Sam takes the edge off of life by making moves on the aforementioned rich sleezeball's wife, only to be conned into gambling away all his Cookie cash on said sleezeball in an "action packed" night of poker... is there some kind of unwritten law that says to get into this guy's poker parties you've gotta be severely mauled with an ugly stick or something?! Are all high stakes gamblers this repulsive? Yeah, I thought so.

Following his night's losses, Sam returns home to find Harry Iverson himself waiting on his doorstep, looking for a temporary alliance-of-sorts for bringing in Victor. Though Harry's methods clash with his own, Sam needs the man's info to help him bring in Hale, so a 70/30 agreement is made, with the man making the actual collar taking the high end of the deal upon Victor's capture. Speaking of which, as we catch back up with our serial assailant, we're just in time to find the glove wearing juggernaut making his next house call, beating yet another white prison guard (and his bathroom) into wreckage. Okay, with another short fix for the violence lovers to hold their interests a little longer, we head back to the sleezeball real estate guy's double dealing wife, on whom Sam's looking to get a measure of revenge... by taking her on a picnic lunch!... and repeatedly telling her how beautiful she is!... and making out with her in a public park! That John Saxon, always the cunning deviant... Anyway, after pampering the same woman that had helped rip him off of all his hard earned Cookie cash the night before, our hero returns home to find a random dead black guy in his recliner! Not his delivery from the "Random Dead Black Guy of the Month" club, this poor slob has a mug shot of Victor taped to his face with "Victor Was Here" written on it. A chilling message to "Hound Dog" Sam that further pressing the whole "catch Victor" issue isn't gonna end well for Sam's health insurance premiums. Meanwhile, the lovable and misunderstood antagonist knocks boots with an off-duty hooker who lives in his building and has a thing for the fat and huggable teddy bear types. I just hope for her pimp's sake there's a life insurance claim on her for just such occasions, in case "ample" men like Victor should accidentally suffocate her or cause severe internal damage via crushed organs...

With renewed interest in the case (for obvious reasons), Sam goes over the recording of Victor's phone call to him earlier in the movie and comes to the conclusion that it was made from the scene of a local jazz club. Meanwhile, Sam's new lady friend decides she can't handle the unpleasant side of our man's bounty work (either the dead body or the fact that he's too busy working to take advantage of her being drunk and drowning in a loveless marriage) and has him drive her back to her car so she can subsequently end any and all hopes the good guy had of finding happiness between the legs of another woman. With a lot of pent up energy and nowhere better to put it, Sam goes out looking for Vic in the LA jazz club scene, always one step behind since his target's got every one of LA's "less fortunates" playing eyes and ears for the big man. Instead of continuing the chase any longer, Vic calls Sam up and makes a deal with him: before he leaves town, he agrees to have a one-on-one with Sam if for no other reason than so the little humored won't harass him further and dog him all the way to New Orleans. I know how he feels though, as I have to do this with all my creditors every time I move to a new locale. I've left a lot of shallow lawyer graves in my wake over the years since I was issued my first credit card, and I imagine I'll be leaving a lot more now that my student loans are over a year overdue and my personal loan's defaulted...

Meeting on the roof of Vic's tenement house homestead, the two have a short chat about how Vic went to prison for beating up a pimp that had slashed up his sister's face, how the guards of said prison were corrupt drug runners, and how they tested out their new riot gloves on Victor for no reason other than his large size and race (or a combination of the two, if you catch my unsubtle drift) intimidated them and they needed to overcome their fears by making themselves feel big. Yeah, so that finally explains what Vic had against the prison guards and why he chose the glove with which to whomp on 'em, but what happens now that Sam's got his gun drawn and Vic's got little more than a guitar to defend himself? El Ka-Bong he ain't, but the big man is a smooth talker and manages to play on Sam's sense of justice and morality, offering him instead a real man's type of showdown, mano-a-glove, as he hands the apparatus over to the bounty hunter to make up for the obvious size advantage the big chocolate bear has over him. Sam of course takes the offer for gladitorial combat and manages to get a couple of good hits in with the mitten of doom (most of which are against the masonry and an unfortunate piece of pipe) before ultimately losing, watching his money and glory slip away before his eyes as Vic knocks him silly and pours salt into the wound by sitting down and having a manly bonding moment with his pulped pursuer. They have one of those Fight Club type moments where laughter follows internal bleeding and everybody may not have won, but at least they had a good time in the primal, violent sense!

And so it's settled: with Victor's victory he's earned Sam's respect and the former shortstop's promise that he won't hunt him down to the French Quarter, while Sam's earned a whole set of bruises, busted innards and the glamour of being a bounty hunter a little longer as he seeks his "home run" elsewhere in the "tagging out" of some other big time bounty... until all of this goes to shit when none other than Iverson, who followed Sam to the meeting place, pops in and fills Vic with Hale with a "hail" of another kind, as in the "hail of bullets" type! One thing Harry didn't pay any attention to though is the mob of unfriendlies that live in the building, just waiting for a selfish cracker like himself to make a move on their black messiah! With his murder of phat Jesus, the prick earns himself a violent death at their hands, turned from peaceful folks to bloodthirsty savages in a heartbeat! An angry group of African-Americans in LA?! Never! Anyway, Harry gets what he deserves as the buildings tenants beat him, brutalize him and finally break him (or more specifically his neck) on the stairs of their building in a scene that actually disturbs me more than any horror movie I've ever seen because this is the kind of "gritty, real life" type violence you could be on the receiving end of someday if you piss of a group of people bad enough! Makes me glad I'm a complete anti-socialite...

Harry's death means Sam gets to collect the entire amount of Victor's bounty. On the one hand you feel happy for our hero, as the cash means he'll be able to barter with his ex for visitation rights with Lisa, but at the same time you gotta think it's more than a little crude that he'd still claim the cash after the way he and Vic buddied up to each other at the end there. The decent thing to do would've been to give the money to Vic's friends in the ghetto after all, they're the ones responsible for getting Sam the full 100% of the reward what with killing Iverson and all. But no, instead he just looks back on his experience in the ghetto as an "unpleasantness" that he can put behind himself while whiles away the hours with his perfect little girl in Suburbia... not very heroic if you ask me, but then he was a shortstop after all.

And now for the part of the show we all love: the nitpicking! Wahoo! First thing's first, let's talk about the whole reason we're here: the glove itself. Okay, to get this off to a bad start, dumbass man-in-charge Ross Hagen obviously hadn't heard of a little directing trick called "continuity" back in the '70s, as "The Glove" in question keeps changing hands! In one shot it'll be a right-handed glove, then in the immediately following scene it changes it's mind and turns into a southpaw! Then again, what do I expect from a director who started out his career "acting" in action flicks. Furthermore, this much vaunted riot glove is said, within the context of the film mind you, to be made of "5lbs of lead and steel", to which Sam replies immediately after (whilst holding it mind you), "It'd take two guys just to lift the thing!"... okay, I know little mister ex-shortstop is used to throwing small leather orbs around, but it's only 5lbs you puss! My mom wears a pair of 5lb wrist weights when she goes out jogging in the morning, and this guy's a bounty hunter?! As for strike three, as if centering the movie's title around the glove itself wasn't bad enough, what's with the "Lethal Terminator" crap? The glove was used to beat people senseless, but there wasn't a single glove related fatality in the entire movie! Nothing "Lethal" about it, meaning there also wasn't any kind of "terminating" either! Unless you're counting the car, the bathroom or any other inanimate objects that were unlucky enough to cross paths with the mauling utility in question, the only "lethal" thing to this movie was it's level of craptitude and the only "terminator" was Hagen, terminating my faith in '70s action movies as a whole... well, American '70s action movies...

The glove itself and all things immediately associated with it aside, I've got other issues to straighten out with the movie. For starters, I don't mind Sam's constant narration. If he fancies himself some kind of Sam Spade (same first name a coincidence?), that's his business. Hey, more power to him and his delusions of grandeur. What I can't stand is his insistence on over salting his little inner monologue with a non-stop stream of baseball metaphors! Sure, he was a shortstop, I understand that and I DON'T need it rammed down my throat throughout the entire length of the movie! It was TWENTY years ago! Get over it! It's not healthy to obsess over your past! And he refers to the bail jumpers he hunts as "losers"?! I'd take Nicholas Worth as a big violent pooper plunderer as my friend over a failed shortstop who can't shut up with the fucking Major League Baseball's Guide to Being Witty remarks! To add to Sam's shame and "oh, I would've forgotten this characteristic of him if not for that being thrown at me constantly" personality, when the man's not making baseball references it's gambling references, in addition to making a bet here and there and gambling away all his hard earned cash on a poker game, leading us to believe that there might be a hint of the Pete Rose in this former athlete. Does this mean that Sam's destined to be left out of the Hall of Fame and cursed to a series of cameo beatings at Wrestlmania? We can only hope. The Glove: not so bad as to make me hate John Saxon, but it came damn close.

With the main character and theme of the movie soundly bitched about, what else can I stab in the eye? Oh, I know, let's start in on the more technical stuff, like the writing and the direction! This is one of those movies where you can tell that there wasn't a big budget for film stock, so some scenes were done in the "I don't care if they screwed up the scene, we don't have enough film to reshoot it" frame of mind. Best example o' this comes when director Hagen must've especially enjoyed a weak little piece of komedy written for Sam and Bill where Sam's holding a cat and Bill refers to Sam's spat with Chuck Gardener and his boyfriend as "How can ya let two pussycats beat ya up like that?!". How can ya tell this scene didn't go quite as planned? Bill fucks up the joke the first time, laughing halfway through it and looking away, obviously overcome by the sight of John Saxon holding a cat for whatever reason (other than the fact that he's John Saxon and he's holding a cat?). Where as most directors would call for a cut and try the scene over again sans grandpa's screw up, Ross lets the old guy retry the gag in the same cut, then leaves it in the movie "as is"! Like I said, he must've loved that weak one-liner and been scant on film if he left it in in it's entirety. "We did 16 takes, and that was the best one". Viva! Viva Senor Burns! Tack on to those horrible editing choices the bad monologues written for Sam's mental diary (what, is he writing a screenplay while shooting this movie?!) and the fact that parts of the movie look like they were shot from the inside of a dirty aquarium and you've got plenty of reasons for me to abstain from any future Hagen projects.

This isn't a movie of all cons though, as there were odd little moments during my viewing experience that I actually didn't regret buying this flick! Shocked as I am? Yeah, scary, isn't it? First is John Saxon himself. The man may be in some pretty Godz awful movies, but he's always got this charm, believability and an air to him that I find nigh impossible to hate! Even through Sam's bad dialogue, one-liners and sporting references, Saxon's charisma pulls us through and the scene he had with the gay couple either proves the man has a sense of humor (which I respect) or was so desperate for work that you wind up feeling sorry for him anyway which, though purely out of pity, still allows the man to stay on our collective good side. Rosey Grier also did an admirable job given the abhorrent conditions under which he was forced to work, making us feel bad for Victor because of the abuse he suffered in prison, respect him for being a positive influence in his community and even feel good when it looked like he'd make it out to New Orleans to follow his jazz dreams! Sure, you could chalk that up as a point for the writer, but I'm giving all the credit to Mr. Grier because as the reviewer I can do shit like that, plus I'm still grudging against the scribes for making Sam so unappealing with his baseball and gambling obsessions.

As for the rest of the cast, nothing spectacular. I was however greatly surprised by Lisa's character, as my typical disgust reflex toward child actors didn't kick in once, meaning the kid was either one of the few existing members of her field not to be born with the obnoxious gene, or I need to get my reflexes checked. Whatever the case, this is a rare thing for me to confess to. The fight sequences, though nothing to shit yourself over in terms of choreography, made up for this with just plain hilarity! Though the gay couple scene was one of the lowlights of Saxon's life in movies, it was still fun to laugh at. As for the fight in the meat processing plant, that's gotta be the latest entry in my "Greatest Fight Scenes of All Time!" list, for the simple fact that it featured Saxon and a guy named Cookie beating on each other with legs of beef! Again, I don't know whether he did it out of desperation for a paycheck or because he's got a great sense of humor, but John Saxon is the man! As for Ross Hagen, even though I can find new merit looking back on The Glove (all of it from the actors and fight scenes), he is still a card carrying member of the Incompetent Asses Club™ and I hate him.

So, in the end, where do I stand on The Glove: Lethal Terminator? It borders on unwatchable, but is far from boring. It's badly written (dialogue especially) and directed, but well acted and the fight scenes are generally entertaining. The title sucks and the production values are bad enough to make Roger Corman weep, but, uhm, the girl who played Lisa wasn't annoying, that's a good thing! And, uhm, there was the cameo by Nicholas Worth! And the theme song? Let's just say it's got to be experienced to be believed... and with any luck, I may just be able to bring it to you soon! All in all, The Glove fits snugly into a 2 1/2 demonic smiley face rating, almost topping the scales at a 3 had there been just one more zany fight sequence, and like Cochran says, "If The Glove fits, you must acquit"!

Oh yeah, before I forget, here's a little post script to end on. In regards to that little "There's no truth in advertising" line from way back in the beginning of the review (you know, before the medication kicked in and nothing made sense for a few paragraphs), the whole point of that was a reference to my copy of the movie's video sleeve. This ex-rental squelched on e-Bay for less than the price of a cup of coffee (roughly the amount I could've spent feeding some nameless kid starving in a third world country for a day) from a man in Michigan features an image of an African-American man who far more resembles Keith "the angry black dude who kidnapped the pizza guy in Men At Work" David than he in anyway does Mr. Rosey Grier, as he's seen stylin' his ass off with some pimpin' white leather shoes, dress socks up to his knees, scary white pants, a sweater that'd make Bill Cosby shift in his seat, the hippest Medic-Alert Bracelet™ you've ever seen, and a handgun to top off the outfit! Though this man's head is incredibly large, he is obviously NOT Rosey Grier, nor is he even Rosey Grier as featured in the character of Victor Hale! Movie guy: big bear of a man, very shaggy in appearance, dresses in some pretty disheveled attire and occasionally dons riot gear to maul white people and destroy American made cars. Cover guy: medium build man, very clean and dare I say "stylish" in appearance, dresses like somebody's rich (but nobody can really explain why) uncle and wields a firearm: something the movie version was strongly opposed to!

Were this not funny/painful enough, consider this: the images on the back of the box consist of another excellently bad pic of "cover Rosey", now decked out in shades and gold chains (?!) while the little insert shot of John Saxon shows him blatantly wearing a suit and tie: an outfit never worn once by Sam Kellogg during the course of The Glove! Not only is there no truth in advertising, but there's apparently nothing but lies in it either! This hurts me as a consumer and viewer of less-than-acceptable-cinema almost as much as the infamous "Jacob Kell has magical powers!" trailers for Highlander: Endgame that the special edition double disc DVD carried no mention of what-so-ever, let alone explained or even offered as an extra feature! Expect to hear far more on that subject than you'd ever hoped to hear when I review that final installment of the Highlander movies series sometime in the future. Somebody's gonna cry when that time comes, cuz I refuse to be the only one!