As a young boy, my obsession with monster movies knew no boundaries. I would walk to any theatre to see one, wake up at any hour of the night to watch one on TV and scour the local newsstands looking for any magazines that carried information on them. When nothing was available, I took an old English composition tablet and wrote notes about each film I’d watch and created my own reference book. I’d copy everything on that film that I could get from TV Guide, (including the credits) and write my own review. I’d try not to bash any film I didn’t like too hard (although being kind to the K. Gordon Murray Mexican horror imports of the 1960s was tough). By the time I was 13 years old I had collected a lot of information about my favorite subject. Back then I thought Nathan “Jerry” Juran was the best director working in films.

If there ever was an unassuming director of sci-fi and fantasy films, it was Nathan Juran. Between 1952 and 1973 Juran directed at least nine fantastic films (horror, sci-fi and fantasy – not including his forays into sci-fi TV) with hardly any fanfare. In the 1950s, Universal lavishly promoted the sci-fi films of Jack Arnold and Paramount would make a big deal about a new George Pal project. Juran, however, went from project to project with scarcely a notice. He directed for major studios (Universal, Columbia and United Artists) and low budget companies (Allied Artists, Howco). In all fairness, he can not be considered a true pioneer of the genre like George Pal or Jack Arnold and he did not exercise complete control over his films. He was somewhat of a gun for hire. It’s also true that the quality of Juran’s films varied more than any of Arnold’s or Pal’s; some of Juran’s films are remembered as endearing classics while others are considered classics of “trash cinema”. But his artistic eye won him praise and made him uniquely qualified to direct sci-fi and fantasy.  Through it all, Juran bought a steady (if unspectacular) hand to each of his fantastic film projects.

Juran was born in Romania and immigrated to the US around 1912. During the great depression, Juran and his family moved to Los Angles where he found work in the art department at RKO Pictures. Eventually he worked his way up to art director where he won the Academy Award for 1941’s How Green was my Valley. After serving in World War II, he moved to 20th Century Fox and worked on several other major films including The Razor’s Edge (1946) Body and Soul (1947) and Harvey (1950). His selection of the portrait used to represent James Stewart’s imaginary friend is striking and indicative of the visual flair Juran was capable of bringing to a project. 


Early Directorial Efforts

Juran began directing films in 1952 with the routine horror film The Black Castle. Filmed at Universal Studios for producer William Alland, The Black Castle is an attempt to revive Universal’s gothic horror films from the 1930s and 1940s. Boris Karloff stars as Dr. Meissen an honorable physician who is held captive by a mad nobleman who likes to hunt human prey (The Most Dangerous Game anyone?).
While the film suffers from a deadly slow pace, Juran does give the low-budget film a much more expensive look.  Unfortunately, there is little else Juran brings to the film. Juran followed The Black Castle with routine westerns like Law and Order and Gunsmoke (1953). 

Juran’s next fantastic film was 1957’s The Deadly Mantis, one of the worst big bug movies of the 1950s. Starting with a lackluster script and saddled with pedestrian special effects, Juran was unable to bring anything to this tale of prehistoric fauna gone wild. His handling of the actors (Craig Stevens, William Hopper and Alix Talton) is mechanical. He merely moves from scene to scene without creating any spark or energy. Instead of the actors displaying a sense of urgency about their quest to find and destroy the monstrous insect, they all act like they’re going to the supermarket. The film is reminiscent of Juran’s latter bland work on TV. The sad fact about The Deadly Mantis is that the stock footage scenes (added to pad out the running time) have more life to them than the rest of the film.


Collaborating with a Master

Fortunately for Juran, his next two collaborations would be more fruitful and memorable. In 1957, Juran was hired by producer Charles H. Schneer to direct the live action scenes for the monster romp 20 Million Miles to Earth. The film would feature animation effects from Ray Harryhausen. Juran became one of the participants in the infamous Harryhausen “sweatbox” sessions. Juran would sit with Schneer and Harryhausen and decide what could and what couldn’t be put in the film before even a frame was shot. This method was used to film only what was deemed absolutely necessary. In interviews Harryhausen always mentioned Juran’s artistic eye and how he was one of the few directors who understood what he was trying to do with his films. (For a more detailed review of 20 Million Miles to Earth, please see my article in Rogue Cinema’s November 2009 issue.)

After completing 20 Million Miles to Earth, Schneer and Harryhausen asked Juran to direct the live action scenes for another classic The 7thVoyage of Sinbad (1958). Juran’s previous career as an art director really helps him here as he anchors the live action scenes with a plausible sense of fantasy which helps make Ray’s creatures all that more real. He also coaxes good efforts from his leads (Kerwin Matthews and Kathyrn Grant). But his best trick was getting a great controlled performance from Torin Thatcher as the villainous Sokura. Thatcher was known as a ham and could woefully overact if left on his own. Juran keeps him in check and focuses Thatcher, so that the actor’s portrayal of the evil sorcerer (along with Ray’s great creatures) becomes one of the most memorable aspects of the film.


Pass the Cheese Please

After directing 20 Million Miles to Earth and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, Juran directed two low budget sci-fi films for Allied Artists and Howco  — 1958’s The Brain from Planet Arous and Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. Probably concerned with his ability to direct more major film projects in the future, Juran chose to use his middle name (Nathan Hertz) on both of these.

 Over the past 50 years these two films have become synonymous with bad sci-fi. While it’s hard to defend these cheese classics, they still offer a few guilty pleasures on repeated viewings. For The Brain from Planet Arous, Juran was able to get yeoman’s work out of John Agar as the possessed scientist. He’s also able to get Agar to express Gor’s (the title brain) awakening lust for co-star Joyce Meadows. It was highly unusual for a 1950’s sci-fi film to refer to sex, but Juran keeps that tension (along with the implied threat of rape) bubbling under the surface. He avoids focusing too long on the woefully inept brain prop. He also directs the scenes in Bronson Caverns well and conveys the proper feeling of claustrophobia.

In Attack of the 50 Foot Woman Juran gets a wonderfully sexy performance out of Yvette Vickers  as the sleazy town tramp Honey Parker (her best remembered role). As in The Brain from Planet Arous, he probably realized that there would be no wonderful special effects to compensate for the low budget, so Juran resolved to get what he could to make his film compelling. He takes a cue from the soap operas of the day and plays the sexual tension that Vickers generates with William Hudson for all its worth. And somehow despite all the awful lines generated by the script and the incompetent special effects, it all works.  One of my favorite scenes is when the sheriff (George Douglas) and Allison Hayes’s faithful butler Jess (Ken Terrell) go out to investigate her allegation of a flying saucer piloted by a giant. They find it, of course, and go in to investigate. As the pair look around the ship (which seems constructed for normal sized humans rather than extraterrestrial giants) they come upon a small fortune in jewels being used to power the otherworldly craft. Juran has the camera follow Douglas and Terrell’s faces as they are distorted through the prisms holding the jewels.  Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is trashy, yet strangely compelling. It’s a wonderful twisted take on the alien invasion theme.


Back to TV and a Virtual Remake

After 1958, Juran received fewer film opportunities, so he returned to television (he had started directing for television earlier in the decade). He directed episodes of the classic Men in Space TV show. Finally in 1962 he was given the opportunity to direct another fantasy film, Jack the Giant Killer.

The history of Jack the Giant Killer is fascinating. Producer Edward Small was once given the opportunity to make The 7th Voyage of Sinbad with Ray Harryhausen. Small turned him down feeling the project wouldn’t succeed. After the film’s phenomenal worldwide triumph, Small decided to make his own similar film. He hired the same actors (Kerwin Mathews and Torin Thatcher), the same director (Juran) and employed stop motion for all the creatures in the film as well (the effects were done by Projects Unlimited). However Columbia Pictures slapped Small with an injunction claiming copyright infringement and halted its release. The case was eventually settled and the film was distributed, but it was not the huge success Small hoped it would be.

Juran directs the film with a steady hand. He seems to know that it will be the effects that will carry the day here. He’s able to convey a sense of wonder in the scenes with the leprechaun (Don Beddoe) and the scenes in Pendragon’s castle where the sorcerer and his minions conjure new challenges for Matthews and his comrades (I especially loved the sword-fighting arms!). Though overtly silly in some scenes, (the original musical numbers [which were later deleted] water down the imaginative aspects), Jack the Giant Killer is still an appealing fantasy.

Of HG Wells and Selenites

In 1964 Juran was tapped once again by the Harryhausen/Schneer team to helm the live action scenes for First Men in the Moon.  For this charming version of the HG Wells classic, Juran had to direct all of the modern day earthbound and moon landing scenes, the quaint scenes in Victorian England and the scenes when the Victorian astronauts are on the moon.  Juran does good work here and he is able to establish different emotions for the audience throughout the film. He conveys the correct sense of English propriety in the early scenes (e.g., Lionel Jeffrey’s escorting his geese out of harm’s way before the diving bell takes off; his outrage over the fact that Edward Judd and Martha Hyer are not married). These scenes act as juxtaposition for the fantasy that will follow. There is also a true sense of awe in the scenes on the lunar surface (“Bedford old man isn’t it magnificent? It’s imperial”!). He keeps the lighting low in the shadowy world of the Selenites which adds to the viewer’s feeling of eeriness.  In his 2004 autobiography “An Animated Life”, Ray Harryhausen said of Juran:

“ ...Jerry could deliver quality when the subject matter allowed and First Men in the Moon supplied him with all the necessary elements to shine. His art director’s background, humor and ability to handle actors all came together to make this his best film.”1

First Men in the Moon represents the high water mark for Juran. He would never again work on a major film as colorful and exciting as this.


The Small Screen Beckons and a Final Film

In 1965 Juran accepted an offer from TV schlockmeister Irwin Allen to return to the small screen and become the house director for his new TV show Lost in Space (Juran had previously worked with Allen on his Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea series). Over the next few years, Juran settled in as a TV director and helmed many shows about the Space Family Robinson. Again, it was probably Juran’s artistic eye that caught Allen’s attention (I sometimes wonder if Allen had called Ray Harryhausen to ask about Juran. After all, Allen and Ray worked together on 1956’s The Animal World, so they knew each other). It was probably also Juran’s ability to work quickly within a low budget that was of primary importance to Allen. Juran’s experience with Harryhausen’s “sweatbox” sessions prepared him well for the low-budget world of sci-fi TV.

As a boy I was very sad to see Juran’s name in the credits for Lost in Space. I will always remember Allen as a cheap lowest common denominator producer. I was infuriated to see him reuse sets, creature costumes and special effects over and over again in his shows all in an effort to save money. For me it seemed such a letdown that the man, who directed so many of my favorite fantasy and sci-fi films, was now reduced to working for a crass producer like Irwin Allen.

As the 1960s morphed into the 1970s, Juran worked primarily in television. Besides Lost in Space, he also churned out episodes for two other Allen series, The Time Tunnel and Land of the Giants. But little of Juran’s ability is evident here. To me it seemed as if Juran was merely paying the bills. Working with Harryhausen and Schneer seemed to fire his artistic ability, and his direction blended well with Harryhausen’s creatures. But now it seemed as if it was all about merely getting the shot completed.

Finally in 1973 Juran got the opportunity to direct one more fantasy film. I remember reading about it in Famous Monsters of Filmland. The title sounded great – The Boy Who Cried Werewolf. Wow! That seemed like it could really be something. And hearing that Kerwin Matthews would star in it fueled my desire to see the film even more. For months I scoured the movie ads in the newspapers watching and searching. Finally I saw an ad for it. But it wasn’t being released as the “A” feature. It was the second feature on a double-bill with American Graffiti. My heart sank. Second features usually weren’t that good. But I went anyway.  And my young heart was crushed. It was beyond pathetic. It was a bad werewolf movie with bad acting, cheap sets and bad werewolf makeup. I remember thinking that the monster looked like a big shaggy dog. There was nothing terrifying here. No images to stir the imagination and hold on to. For Juran it was a flaccid final feature.
 

Coda

Juran never directed anything notable again. But even though he worked on a lot of forgettable projects, he himself was not forgotten by film fantasy fans. In 1999 (at the age of 92), he was recognized with a lifetime career award from the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films. It must have been gratifying to Juran to be recognized, not by the people who had hired him, but by the young fans that went to see his efforts. They were now old enough to properly thank him for his contributions. Juran died in 2002 knowing that he made a lasting impression on several generations of film fans.

Seeing his name on screen now makes me smile. I laugh when I think of the innocent 13 year old who proudly wrote in his private notebook “Nathan Juran makes the best movies ever!” While that may not be true, Juran did help fire the imagination for a lot of people including me (he also made a young adolescent very curious about a certain adult subject). He kept fantastic ideas alive in his films without letting those ideas spin the movie out of control. That’s as fine a tribute as I can think of.

*   *   * 

The Fantastic Filmography of Nathan Juran

1.    Harvey – as Art Director (1950) (20th Century Fox)
2.    The Black Castle (1952) Universal
3.    The Deadly Mantis (1957) Universal
4.    20 Million Miles to Earth (1957) (Columbia)
5.    The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) (Columbia)
6.    The Brain From Planet Arous (1958) (Howco)
7.    Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958) (Allied Artists)
8.    Jack the Giant Killer (1962) (United Artists)
9.    First Men in the Moon (1964) (Columbia)
10.    The Boy who Cried Werewolf (1973) (Universal)


Citation

1.    Harryhausen, Ray and Dalton, Tony. An Animated Life. New York, New York: Billboard Books, 2004, pg. 179.


Selected References

Brosnan, John. Movie Magic. The Story of Special Effects in the Cinema. New York, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1978.

Harryhausen, Ray and Dalton, Tony. An Animated Life. New York, New York: Billboard Books, 2004.

The Internet Movie Database. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0432846/. Accessed January 28, 2010.

Naha, Ed. Horrors from Scream to Screen: An Encyclopedic Guide to the Greatest Horror and Fantasy Films of All Times. New York, New York: Avon Books, 1975.

Pettigrew, Neil. The Stop-Motion Filmography. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland and Company Inc, 1999.

Weaver, Tom. Attack of the Monster Movie Makers. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland and Company Inc, 1994.

Warren, Bill. Keep Watching the Skies (Two Volume Set). Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland and Company Inc, 1982 and 1986.