With the first of these, the newly minted spy franchise expanded its horizons, plunging headfirst into the waves from which Ursula Andress had emerged in Dr. No (1962) and thereby assimilating the subaquatic spectacle of Jacques Cousteau’s immersive nature documentaries. Schemer-in-chief Emilio Largo (Adolfo Celi) had a floating lair, a boat called the Disco Volante; the Vulcan bomber he'd hijacked was buried on the ocean floor.
Klein, a diver and engineer who had built protective camera housings for MGM’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954) and a reliable reputation with work on TV’s Sea Hunt (1958-61) and Flipper (1964-67), was deputised to oversee the underwater sequences. As Director of Underwater Engineering, his duties extended from ensuring performer safety to building fully functional props, including the underwater jetpack worn by Sean Connery’s 007.
“I remember I said to [production supervisor] David Middlemas, ‘What is he going to have that was like the briefcase from From Russia with Love [1963] and the rest of that stuff?’,” Klein recalled in 2009. “He said if I could build it and have it there for Monday morning, they would pay what I was asking […] So I jumped on a plane on Friday afternoon and worked steady all weekend and [got] back Monday at 8.45 and gave [the jetpack] to them… I wish I had kept one of them.”
Connery, Klein revealed, “really didn’t like diving all that much”, but there were other reasons for showing up: “The best part of the day was heading back to the dock after a day working with the girls. They would change out on deck as if they were one of the guys!” More perks followed: making $141m off a $9m budget, Thunderball outstripped its predecessors at the box office, and won a Visual Effects Oscar.
Jordan Klein was born December 1, 1925 in Cleveland, Ohio, yet at an early age, his family relocated to Miami, where he began diving as a teenager: “We built our own breathing equipment. We used five-gallon steel milk cans for our diving helmet, soldering on a port… [we] cut a donut out of an inner tube and made a little copper ring that would hold a piece of glass in the front and put that on for a facemask.”
A mischievous child, Klein was sent to military school and served in the Navy during WW2. After the War, he opened a surf shop in Florida and invested in a former PT boat, the Arbalete, to take tourists out on dives. Even with the illustrious patronage of Cary Grant and Errol Flynn, however, Klein realised “it would be tough to earn any serious money running a dive boat for the rest of my life.”
Alternative revenue streams were sought, with some success. Klein’s waterproof housing for stills cameras sold 19,000 units in branches of Woolworths; in 1967, Klein teamed with Cousteau to patent the CryoLung, a liquid-oxygen breathing device that sustained divers three times longer than was then the norm.
Once Hollywood came calling, Klein oversaw the wetter work on The Day of the Dolphin (1973) and Night Moves (1975), as well as Live and Let Die’s shark sequences: “We understood the psychology of a specific shark after working with him for just a few minutes. The psychology was different for almost every one of them. Fortunately, we could outthink them.”
On Never Say Never Again, an unofficial reworking of Thunderball, he was promoted following early production blunders: “We almost got thrown out of the park in Freeport Bahamas when the pilot hit some stalagmites and stalactites in a cave and broke them. The whole world came to an end as far as the ecologically minded people were concerned. So they told me, ‘You run the thing!’”
Later projects included Jaws 3-D (1983), Splash (1983) and Cocoon (1985); in 2002, Klein received a Technical Achievement Oscar for “his pioneering efforts in the development and application of underwater camera housings for motion pictures”. His final credit was The Celestine Prophecy (2006), a Dan Brown-inspired indie filmed in Florida, Costa Rica and Puerto Rico, passing for the Peruvian rainforest.
By then, cheap, flexible digital filmmaking was replacing the expensive business of shooting on film, though Klein professed a fondness for the latter: “In the old days, I’ve had my camera fill almost all the way up with saltwater and… by two o’clock in the morning, the camera is back running. As long as the optics hadn’t gotten screwed up, I was a happy camper; I knew I could get it to run the next morning.”
He is survived by Lori, his wife of 35 years; by a son, Jordan Klein Jr., himself a specialist in underwater photography; and by three stepchildren.
Jordan Klein Sr., born December 1, 1925, died October 1, 2024.
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