Revisit: Jaws
A retrospective review of 'the terrifying motion picture from the terrifying No. 1 best seller'
Jaws is the greatest horror movie of all time.
But surely the likes of Halloween, The Thing, Psycho, Alien, The Shining, The Exorcist, and numerous other films depict humanity’s darkness and the ‘fear of the unknown’ more so than Steven Spielberg’s 1975 blockbuster giant shark movie?
Perhaps — and each one is excellent in their own right. However, Jaws has become an annual venture for yours truly, specifically around the Fourth of July, ever since I caught it on TV back in middle school (which is about 20 years ago now…showing my age). In my office, I not only have a poster, but a hand-painted wooden board with ‘Orca’ on it, honoring the name of Captain Quint’s ship — gifted to me by my Aunt Marsha. And then there is the ‘Jaws’ shirt that was a present from my sister, Mary. Safe to say, the movie has stuck with me.
But what makes the film unique? And why is it the most successful (i.e., profitable) horror movie of all time?
To begin, Peter Benchley’s book that inspired the film was also a commercial success — but before the author put pen to paper, he was described as “down on his luck”; until one day, looking out toward the ocean, he thought, “What if a town was harassed by a Great White Shark?” His wife, who recounts the story’s genesis on a DVD bonus feature (see below), told him the idea was the “craziest” she had ever heard.
Still, he published the story, tapping into a primal psychological horror — what lies beneath the waves. Unlike encountering an alien or even a ghost, shark attacks have been definitively, without a doubt, recorded, heightening the plausibility of the film’s horror happening to a viewer (although UFO enthusiasts on the History Channel or Ghost Adventures would probably disagree with my conclusion…).
In fact, Mayor Vaughn (Murray Hamilton) perfectly summarizes the fear regarding galeophobia: “Martin, it’s all psychological. You yell barracuda, everybody says, ‘Huh? What?’ You yell shark, we’ve got a panic on our hands on the Fourth of July.”
This nearly universal fear is embodied by the story’s main character, Chief Martin Brody: a New York City cop tired of the “violence, rip-offs, muggings” who moves his family to the quiet town of Amity for their safety. However, safety is not the only attraction, as he tells Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss), “But in Amity one man can make a difference.” He is a hopeful man — yet with a deeply-rooted aquaphobia. In the film, the audience never fully learns the source of Brody’s fear, but hints point to drowning (which he sharply says at one point) and a scar he hesitates to reveal to Hooper and Quint (Robert Shaw). When asked why he moved to an island, Brody drunkenly quips, “It’s only an island if you look at it from the water,” which leaves Hooper confused, sarcastically retorting, “That makes a lot of sense.”
If the recent OceanGate/Titanic news has proven anything, the ocean is a dark, powerful, truly unexplored force — and Spielberg and company were able to depict this common, innate fear through their ingenuity. Initially, the then-young filmmaker storyboarded the movie’s monster to appear prominently in the opening sequences; but constant mechanical failures and the Atlantic Ocean’s saltwater kept the prop from performing. Radically reconceiving the film, Spielberg relied on underwater, meniscus-level shots to create the film’s thrilling anxiety, as well as John Williams’ deserved Academy Award-winning score. Ultimately, Jaws is the quintessential case study of ‘art through adversity.’
(Side note: Has a movie score elevated a movie’s atmosphere more than Jaws? I’m not sure —)
But, as mentioned above, the Lovecraftian monster — and fear of the unknown — is a tried and true trope of filmmaking. Spielberg even credits Alfred Hitchcock’s works for inspiring his shoot of Jaws. Point being: the idea is not original, yet it feels fresh and real.
Which brings me to my next point. Jaws was filmed on location in Martha’s Vineyard, Mass., not on Universal Studios’ backlot. To his credit, Spielberg insisted on shooting the third act on the open ocean, since a tank or lake (as producers pitched) would not have the same “violence” as the sea. And the Atlantic was violent on the cast and crew, who have described the filming as nightmarish. Nevertheless, when Brody, Quint, and Hooper are hunting the mighty 25-footer, the trio actually are on the ocean, making the peril more tangible (i.e., reducing the audience’s need to suspend their disbelief). The movie magic in Jaws’ scenario is probably how the crew didn’t completely mutiny on Spielberg — but the love for the craft can be perceived.
The film’s realism and grit extends beyond the Melvillian hunt and Amity’s distinctive townsfolk (like this guy), right down to the character level. Brody is a dutiful, vulnerable family man that’s willing to sacrifice himself to protect the town he serves — rising to face down his worst, aforementioned fears (“Tell ‘em I’ve gone fishing”). Scheider wonderfully emits frustration, love, pain, anguish all with his eyes and presence. For instance, after the first shark attack, Brody is on the beach watching islanders swim. Clearly, he is anxious, worried he helped offer a “smorgasbord” to the unknown monster swimming off the coast. Scheider is tense, but he does not ‘tell’ you so — he is not extravagantly gesticulating. You hear it, however, when he says, “That’s some bad hat Harry,” as if Scheider spoke the line through clenched teeth. With Scheider’s eyes alone, he offers a wide-open window into Brody’s soul, especially when his worst fear is realized — and that the shark claimed another victim, this time being a kid.
Scheider also bears the guilt of his past failures quietly, particularly after the second shark attack; but he never misses an opportunity to inject levity into those moments, perhaps as a coping mechanism. In one endearing scene, Brody notices his son mimicking him at the dinner table — so he plays along for a minute or so. Ultimately, he realizes who he is trying to protect, the impressionability of his actions on the next generation, as well as needing to be reassured he is not alone (“Give us a kiss”).
(Side note: Coincidentally, right after the son gives his father a kiss, Hooper knocks at the Brody family door, eventually agreeing to stay around to help. Perhaps the chief’s ‘silent prayer’ was answered)
Even how he says, “You’re going to need a bigger boat” is sublime. What could’ve been a laugh-out-loud or disengaging moment has become one the greatest, most-quoted movie lines in cinematic history. That’s a testament to not only the direction, but the actor. And Scheider delivers a brilliant performance.
Richard Dreyfuss is also great as Hooper, but Robert Shaw as the salty, fisherman Quint is the scene-chewing, stand-out in what should’ve been an Oscar-winning performance. Without doing much, Shaw carries himself as a man who has lived an entire life — with the events of Jaws merely a snapshot in time. This history is on full display in Quint’s account about the sinking of the USS Indianapolis, which Spielberg describes as his favorite scene in the movie. Clearly, Quint is a character haunted by his past, masking his own fear of sharks by hunting them — as if he were avenging the comrades killed by the aquatic creatures after “delivering the bomb.”
(Side note: This Indianapolis scene is a gazillion times better than the awful ‘tribute’ movie about the sinking starring Nicolas Cage…but then again, I don’t think I even needed to write that sentence)
Yet what makes the characters different from other typical horror movies is finding the levity even in the darkest situations — which, again, Spielberg stressed on including in collaboration with “The Odd Couple” TV writer, Carl Gottlieb. Each character has their own, unique sense of humor, and that’s a tremendous accomplishment in its own right.
From a mise en scene perspective, Jaws utilizes the juxtaposition between the bright, hot days of summer against the darkness lurking beneath the ocean. Horror movies are often shot in pitch black settings, since their cultural antecedent relies heavily on German Expressionism (a reactionary film style to the post-World War I landscape) or Gothic Romantic literature (like Edgar Allen Poe, Bram Stoker, H.P. Lovecraft etc.). Bright light and horror don’t mix, since the former usually represents the dispelling of evil — but Jaws is a contradiction. Yes, there are horror scenes at night (like the first one); however, a majority of kills are clearly in daylight, such as Quint’s gruesome death, which is very much viewable, in all of its gory, terrifying mess.
And this makes the shark’s wrath, perhaps, more horrifying because it’s an evil that doesn’t rest or discriminate. No amount of light will cast away what the monster represents: the debilitating, overwhelming power of fear. Only one’s will to act can vanquish the threat, which Brody eventually does (while clinging to the Orca’s mast — which is the first time he goes into the water throughout the movie!). It’s in that moment, the aquaphobic police chief conquers his fear of the ocean (“I use to hate the water….”).
Again, Jaws is not completely unique in that its monster isn’t strictly allegorical — meaning, the shark can be broadly interpreted for what it represents (i.e., see Halloween’s Michael Myers). The film could’ve gone down a purley allegorical route in regards to the local authorities, since it was produced post-Watergate, utilizing the mayor as a stand-in for anyone in the Nixon Administration. But it doesn’t. Instead, the film criticizes gutless authorities — entrusted with the faith of their people — in general. In this case, the mayor is more worried about “summer dollars” and public perception, rather than addressing the three ton, 25-foot shark in the room. And while Brody has remorse following multiple deaths, nevertheless, he answers the call of duty and is compelled to act. Conversely, when the mayor sees people die and grief strike his community, he blindly signs Quint’s contract to kill the monster and exits the film, battered and shaken.
This is a universal criticism of the role of authority, and how one should act when they’ve obtained that level of trust from their community. Jaws exists outside of any particular political moment, making its story — and message — more enduring.
Meanwhile, the film’s themes of perseverance and vigilance when battling your fears, are timeless. Like the destruction of the Death Star in Star Wars: A New Hope, Jaws provides one of the most triumphant endings in cinema with the monster literally exploding, after Brody — on perhaps his final bullet — utters the classic line, “Smile you son of a…” A wave of relief washes over the tense audience, and we cheer along with the ecstatic Brody. To reiterate a previous point, the film shows fear can be conquered, but unlike other movies, it does so boldly and style. And that’s a powerfully resonating message, to the tune of $476.5 million in box office gross — or more than $1 billion when adjusted for inflation.
Other horror movies often sequel bait (i.e., Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th etc.) or lean toward a nihilistic ending. At the ending of The Thing, for instance, the audience still has no idea if the monster was killed or if it adapted to appear as another character, sowing distrust between the survivors. Jaws, on the other hand, is unequivocally optimistic since good defeated evil, despite the deaths and toil the characters endured.
In short: audiences like happier endings, even if the journey is a nail-biting, thrilling nightmare. It’s this optimistic, unique flair Spielberg provides that makes Jaws apt for multiple, repeated viewings; and it’s the film’s realism, grit, characters, and intriguing cinematography that solidifies Jaws as the greatest horror movie ever put to screen.
So, while I may never go in the water again — I’ll definitely re-watch it this Fourth of July.
Appendix I: Richard Dreyfuss once said, “We started the film without a script, without a cast and without a shark.” The production was, as previously mentioned, horrendous — as it became wildly over-budget and over-schedule (from 55 days to 159 when filming wrapped). Spielberg even believed he would never be taken seriously as a filmmaker ever again after Jaws. However, it all worked out. But you can learn more about ‘how’ the movie came to be in the enlightening documentary below:
Appendix II: Seriously, how was Robert Shaw not even nominated for an Academy Award? Regardless, Jaws ended up with three Oscars — Best Music, Sound, and Film Editing — and was nominated for Best Picture, losing to One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (which is a great film too…but I prefer Spielberg’s “monster movie”).
Appendix III: As for my other favorite horror movies…that might be a subject for another blog post. But let me know yours!