I’m gonna need a bigger blog. In honor of Shark Week 2020, I’m airing out one of the more embarrassing skeletons in my proverbial closet, and this one has teeth the size of shot glasses. Often cited as one of the earliest examples of a “summer blockbuster,” from 1975, this is Steven Spielberg’s Jaws.
I know, I know, fully half of all six of you that are reading this are probably already shouting at your screens and/or typing a scathing email or social media post. Seriously, how had I not seen this? I don’t have a good answer for that at all, and there was never going to be a great time to dive in to the water, so to speak. I have seen it now, however, and it’s not hard to understand why it became the cultural touchstone that it is.
The iconic opening scene quickly establishes the atmosphere of the entire film, from its picturesque resort beach façade to its minimalist but omnipresent sense of tension. It’s a great sort of a dipole that is largely maintained through the picture’s runtime, with scenes of seemingly ordinary beach and sea life balancing the ones in which it’s obvious that something is going to happen. I found this push-and-pull dynamic taking me along with it, going in and out like the tide. The lighting, camera work, and score all play into the “less is more” approach. It’s a good thing, too, because the shark itself doesn’t really look very convincing, but the whole movie around it really sells the needed emotional, visceral reaction to its few appearances on the screen.
The three principal cast members are absolutely essential to drawing the audience in, and they do a great job. I was particularly engaged by Robert Shaw’s Quint and Richard Dreyfuss’s Hooper. These two seem slightly exaggerated as a means of establishing their archetypal credentials, but they manage it without really descending into caricature. Dreyfuss may have peaked in this movie. That’s not to say that he isn’t good in other things that came after, but it’s especially easy to believe in his character’s humanity here. Robert Shaw definitely plays this as a bit of a ham, but seems to be well aware of where the line is and manages to flirt with it constantly without ever crossing it. In a bit of contrast, Roy Scheider is set up to serve as more of an audience proxy and to that end feels like more of an everyman. It’s a fine performance and he manages some solid emotional moments, but I don’t think the script intends for him to be a standout character.
Andrew asked me afterward if there were any surprises in the movie or if I already knew everything. To be honest, I wasn’t really surprised by anything in particular in this movie, but I’m pretty confident in saying that it’s because I’ve seen numerous others that play the same beats. As is so often the case, the execution of those moments is the key difference. Even knowing most of what was going to happen well before it did, those moments still manage to land where they mean to. Lots of movies try to do the same things and can’t quite make them work. I am pleased to say that I think Jaws holds up even after all these years. I just somehow never got around to it before. Can’t imagine why.