Nathan Juran directed some lousy movies.  The first one that comes to my mind is Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, though I found some merit in that.  His career ended in the far worse The Boy Who Cried Werewolf.  What’s strange is his first time at bat, 1952’s The Black Castle, is possibly the best picture he helmed.

It is set in the medieval era, where Richard Greene is on an undercover mission to investigate a friend who has been missing since staying at the castle of the villainous Stephen McNally.  The reason Greene adopts an alias and fictitious backstory is because they both have experience in Africa and McNally might recognize him.  That continent is such a small place, you know.  Greene tells his friend and right-hand-man Tudor Owen to forget everything he knows about Africa.  I know I wish I could forget that Toto song.

It felt incongruous to use the words “undercover mission”, but this production feels more like a fairly light-hearted spy film than gothic horror.  This exchange is typical of the dialogue and representative of the overall vibe: “Pardon me, sir, but you have a faculty for getting into things”  “The difficulty is in getting out.”  And getting out of the castle will be especially difficult, courtesy of a goofy element, that being the alligator pit McNally says is the only exit from the castle.  If that’s the only egress, then I think I would have remembered that on the way in.

The intrigue begins even before arriving at the castle, as Greene and Owen are made to change carriages to one of McNally’s when they still have some ways to travel.  I like how the carriage driver (Henry Corden) says Owen will ride on top with him, but Greene insists on his man riding in the warm carriage and apologizes for being unable to do the same for the driver: “I’d extend an invitation to you but, unfortunately, somebody has to drive.”  A similar kindness is extended to the driver when they invite him to their table at the inn, where the man is given a whole chicken: “I only ever dreamed of food like this.”

Alas, the Count’s thuggish associates (John Hoyt and Michael Pate) also appear at the inn and challenge our hero to a sword fight which the villains are lucky to leave alive and intact since, as Greene puts it, “I can condone poor sportsmanship but not bad manners.”

Greene’s generosity is in sharp contrast to the boorish McNally, and he soon catches the eye of Paula Corday, playing McNally’s wife.  There’s this great exchange between the spouses, where McNally tries to goad Corday, praising the hunting ability of Nancy Valentine, who obviously has designs on him: “She shot the third largest boar today.  Quite a feat for a woman don’t you think?”  Corday: “Oh, I don’t know.  I bagged the biggest without firing a shot.”

Almost all of the performances are praise-worthy, and I especially liked the rapport between Greene, Owen and Corden.  Of particular note is Boris Karloff, in a small but important role as a McNally’s physician, whose motives and allegiances are played close to the chest.  Alas, Corday’s performance is a bit odd, and I suspect that feeling is due to her looking more than a bit like Madeline Kahn.  Some of her expressions in reaction to certain lines would have been laugh-out-loud funny if Kahn was in the role.

You might have noticed in this essay on The Black Castle that I have used more quotes than usual, and that’s because the script is better than I anticipated or what is typical of this kind of film.  That this is a light-hearted adventure closer to spy film than any other genre puts it above other B-movies of the period.  Surprisingly highly recommended.

Dir: Nathan Juran

Starring Richard Greene, Boris Karloff, Stephen McNally

Watched as part of Shout Factory’s blu-ray box set Universal Horror Collection: Volume 6