A series of murders occur with the only link between them being a glove which has a finger cut off. A reporter gradually tracks down the killer who may be someone he knows. He himself is a suspect but he is dogged in his investigation. It's a fair giallo with the familiar plot device of someone who murders several times to hide the fact they really want to kill just one person in the death toll. (Agatha Christie for one). It's also a bit confusing as it first appears the killer is killing for the sake of it (breathy sinister narration) when in actual fact they have a real motive. The meaning of the glove is obscure too. As often in giallos the end explanation is far too rushed. The cast are fine. Franco Nero makes a hero who is brave but is also a bit pathetic, particularly when drunk. The film benefits greatly from having the legendary Vittorio Storaro as cinematographer and the equally legendary Ennio Morricone providing the music score. They lift the film greatly.

The brief synopsis of this film promised quite a lot of sadistic murders and and intelligent, convoluted plot twists, but it's actually one of the most boring giallo-efforts I've encountered so far. The plot is uninvolving and introduces too many superfluous characters that like to behave suspiciously even when they have absolutely no reason to! Take the hero's girlfriend, for example! She's a blond girl, but occasionally wears a black wig without saying why. Anyways, we're looking for a killer in a world of wild sex parties, blackmailing, astrology and really confused journalists. It all starts with the assault at an Australian doctor on new year's day and many victims follow, although not right away. The killer isn't exactly in a hurry (he only commits like one murder per month) and why should he/she be? There hardly seem to be any police officers investigating the case and the biggest danger comes from an alcoholic journalist with quite a few personal issues. The murders aren't particularly spectacular or imaginative and some of the players couldn't possibly give more careless performances. Like always when his name appears in the credits, Ennio Morricone delivers the best work, with his staggering musical score that provides even the most daft sequences with an undeserved portion of suspense. Franco Nero is truly cool dude, but he obviously feels much more at home wearing his cowboy hat – preferably that of Django – an makes a very unconvincing lead star. None of the supportive cast members are really worth mentioning. Trust the general opinion on this one, there are about 50 to 60 Italian gialli that you should give priority over "The Fifth Cord"

Giornata nera per l'ariete does not mean The Black Days of the Ram. It means "A Black (sombre) Day for the Aries". Aries like in the horoscope or star signs, you know? Did you sleep through your Italian and Latin classes? And I consider this to be an above average giallo. Here's some more rams for you:Notable persons born under the Sign of Aries (Tropical Zodiac) include: Harry Houdini, Johann Sebastian Bach, Franz Haydn, Paul Verlaine, Joan Crawford, Francisco Goya, Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, William Shatner, Quentin Tarantino, Charlie Chaplin, Charles Baudelaire, Vincent Van Gogh, Charlemagne, Marlon Brando, Steve McQueen, Henry Mancini, Muddy Waters, Butch Cassidy, Diana Ross, DJ Premier, Redman, Gloria Swanson, Bette Davis, Eric Clapton, Steven Tyler, Thomas Jefferson, René Descartes, Booker T. Washington, Elton John, Eddie Murphy, Method Man, Marcel Marceau, Hayley Mills, Gerard Way, Francis Ford Coppola, Casanova, and Leonardo Da Vinci.

Middling giallo which is done no favours by losing much in the English translation and leaving us with no-one to identify with except a womanising alcoholic journalist (a profession worthy of no higher status than underneath a rock in the pecking order of Italian thrillers) amidst its phantasmagoria of inadequately characterised characters.The film is nevertheless interesting as an example of the way the inspirational dynamic of the genre-director relationship can be periodically inversed by genuine mastery, as enigmatic writer/director Bazzoni acknowledges his debt to Dario Argento and his epochal 'Bird Of Crystal Plumage' with, firstly; in the film's native Italian; one of those silly 'animal' titles ("The Black Days Of The Ram") that proliferated in this vein until the mid 70s, and under which the mystery is far more meaningful and less frustratingly convoluted.Secondly, the proliferation throughout the film of occasionally effective set-pieces and attention-grabbing individual shots realised through Bazzoni's technically adroit grip on the manipulation of geometric and geographical spaces to alternate agoraphobia and claustrophobia where, disconcertingly, the opposites of each should ordinarily occur. Some characters have extraordinarily spacious open-plan apartments in which crucial bits of suspense take place; and elsewhere tunnels and other similarly threatening confined spaces are presented anamorphically and are not re-'squeezed' for printing, with the result that suspense and tension is heightened.The usual incidental decorative pleasures apply; ie that of the production designer having ordered the entire contents of one of those late 60's continental Vogue/Cosmo-esquire coffee table-crushing fashion journals to be arbitrarily strewn across the sets.The original limited British cinema release (1972), under both this title and the vulgarised "Evil Fingers", seems to be the equivalent of the Salvation video release, although censored by 2(!) seconds. Some sources suggest that the original Italian print clocks in at 100 minutes, but it's hard to imagine a prospective 8 minutes of further footage having any profound overall impact.