JawsAs mankind continues to grow, building cities and houses, producing sophisticated technology, and organizing under various banners and flags, it's easy to forget our humble origins. We were not always at the top of the food chain; humanity started its slow crawl out of the primordial ooze as scavengers, ill-equipped to seize upon prey with our physical capabilities, necessitating that we use our wits to avoid danger in order to survive. Jaws reminds us of this important lesson--that when arrogance blinds us from accurately assessing our own capabilities, we find ourselves returned to that age-old struggle against a predator that has the upper hand...or upper fin, as the case may be.
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When Jaws swam to shore...err, theaters...in 1975, it left an indelible mark (bitemark?) on the movie-going public, a breakthrough film for director Steven Spielberg, and some would say the "death knell" for "New Hollywood", the so-called second "golden age" of Hollywood and the films produced during that time. These are all big statements, and in a way, Jaws lives in the shadow of its own legacy, much like the great white shark in the film. While many regard Jaws as the birth of the blockbuster film, it is unfair to simply qualify the movie as this, and not recognize the quality of craftsmanship and entertainment value which made it such a popular film in the first place. Jaws is, no question, a horror movie--with a shocking amount of blood and dismemberment for a PG-rated movie in any age; but it is more than just a grisly shocker, evidenced by the naturalism of its characters and story. Newcomer chief of police for the small, island town of Amity--a New England resort community--is Martin Brody (Roy Scheider), a former law enforcement officer from New York City, who has taken a job in the halcyon hamlet for, ostensibly, an easier time. But when a young woman--or what's left of one--washes up on the beach, he leaps into action to lock down the waterfronts from any more catastrophes. Problem is that this decision doesn't go over well with the mayor, Larry Vaughn (Murray Hamilton)--or his cronies, including the coroner--who dictate that the beaches have to stay open for the sake of the economy; I'm sure you see where this is going. And Jaws makes no bones about the existence of the territorial man-eater--not from the very first scene with the poor skinny-dipping girl getting dragged under, screaming, her gruesome end accompanied by John Williams' score, those unforgettable strings, increasing in crescendo at the critical moment of attack. Jaws keeps the tension high right from the start, with rapid cuts underscoring Brody's anxiety and mirroring our own, even when those strings are absent; but when they do come up on the soundtrack...oh, boy. The first half of Jaws circles around Brody trying to get the mayor to listen to the imminent threat to his townspeople, a process which flounders even with the support of an oceanographic expert, Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss). The second half is the time when they take to the seas in their quest to slay the demon of the deep, alongside a true "salty dog", a rough and tough sailor named Quint (Robert Shaw). The three men each bring their own expertise into the endeavor, and pit their wits against the primeval cunning of this prehistoric, evolutionary wonder of efficiency and death.
A lot of people have read many things into Jaws, with ideas about "metaphors" and "deeper meanings" to the story; that's not to say this isn't true, although I believe that this is, in part, due to the highly-effective storytelling capabilities of Steven Spielberg and company. The characters are easily identifiable--like a buddy we might grab a beer with, or have over to play cards, or in the case of the mayor, someone we probably would avoid getting roped into a conversation with at the supermarket. The conflict is something very primal--survival--but is also very natural. For all its strength and power, the shark is simply a living, breathing thing, and in a way, the existence of something unfettered by the trappings of fantasy makes it even more terrifying. But--to indulge--when the film debuted in the wake of the Watergate scandal, observations about the kind of "common man"--exemplified by Brody--emerging as the hero and slayer of monsters makes him a kind of avatar of a desire of the people to identify with something (and someone) less complicated than an era when political subterfuge was on the rise in the news. Movies were morphing into an avenue of escape from the complexity of the encroaching world. I could argue that--forty years later--the relationship between Brody and the mayor is reminiscent of recent news stories where the police are hamstrung by politicians in the interest of quelling anxiety and thus, engendering popularity from the public, content to let the police appear to be portrayed as incompetent--or worse, negligent--their action or inaction resulting in harm to the community. These assessments are not wrong, but are colored by one's own perspective, as any argument will be; but there in lies one of the great strengths of the universality of Jaws. The film is exceptional not just because one can read any number of contemporary political parables from it, but because of an inclusiveness to the story and pacing which engages us. Rather than overwhelm us with terror, there are moments of humor--sometimes the upswing before a shocking moment to follow. Take the scene when Quint and Hooper compare scars, these two fellows from different worlds finding common ground over their love of the ocean and their own interpretations of machismo. Quint follows this story with his tale of tragedy, his unfortunate, unforgettable encounter with sharks and the shipwreck of the USS Indianapolis at the end of World War II. We're pulled in a different emotional direction again and again--not in a manipulative way, but to help us feel like we get to know these character better in the short time we have in the movie, so we're genuinely concerned and anxious when danger lifts its dorsal up and stares into us with its cold, black "doll's" eyes amid that cartilage cranium.
Recommended for: Fans of an intense story about a real-life monster, and the few brave men who set out to stop the superior beast. When you finally get a good look at that creature, you may have trouble stepping off of the beach so easily.
A lot of people have read many things into Jaws, with ideas about "metaphors" and "deeper meanings" to the story; that's not to say this isn't true, although I believe that this is, in part, due to the highly-effective storytelling capabilities of Steven Spielberg and company. The characters are easily identifiable--like a buddy we might grab a beer with, or have over to play cards, or in the case of the mayor, someone we probably would avoid getting roped into a conversation with at the supermarket. The conflict is something very primal--survival--but is also very natural. For all its strength and power, the shark is simply a living, breathing thing, and in a way, the existence of something unfettered by the trappings of fantasy makes it even more terrifying. But--to indulge--when the film debuted in the wake of the Watergate scandal, observations about the kind of "common man"--exemplified by Brody--emerging as the hero and slayer of monsters makes him a kind of avatar of a desire of the people to identify with something (and someone) less complicated than an era when political subterfuge was on the rise in the news. Movies were morphing into an avenue of escape from the complexity of the encroaching world. I could argue that--forty years later--the relationship between Brody and the mayor is reminiscent of recent news stories where the police are hamstrung by politicians in the interest of quelling anxiety and thus, engendering popularity from the public, content to let the police appear to be portrayed as incompetent--or worse, negligent--their action or inaction resulting in harm to the community. These assessments are not wrong, but are colored by one's own perspective, as any argument will be; but there in lies one of the great strengths of the universality of Jaws. The film is exceptional not just because one can read any number of contemporary political parables from it, but because of an inclusiveness to the story and pacing which engages us. Rather than overwhelm us with terror, there are moments of humor--sometimes the upswing before a shocking moment to follow. Take the scene when Quint and Hooper compare scars, these two fellows from different worlds finding common ground over their love of the ocean and their own interpretations of machismo. Quint follows this story with his tale of tragedy, his unfortunate, unforgettable encounter with sharks and the shipwreck of the USS Indianapolis at the end of World War II. We're pulled in a different emotional direction again and again--not in a manipulative way, but to help us feel like we get to know these character better in the short time we have in the movie, so we're genuinely concerned and anxious when danger lifts its dorsal up and stares into us with its cold, black "doll's" eyes amid that cartilage cranium.
Recommended for: Fans of an intense story about a real-life monster, and the few brave men who set out to stop the superior beast. When you finally get a good look at that creature, you may have trouble stepping off of the beach so easily.