“There is a creature alive today who has survived millions of years of evolution without change, without passion, and without logic. It lives to kill. A mindless eating machine. It will attack and devour anything. It is as if God created the devil and gave him jaws.” That ominous voiceover, accompanied by select notes from award-winning music by John Williams, introduced the official teaser trailer for the movie, “JAWS,” in June 1975 to America.
“JAWS”, released on June 20, 1975, directed by a young Steven Spielberg, provided a well-deserved distraction to Americans facing uncomfortable unemployment rates, inflation, domestic political turmoil, and a world full of unrest. President Gerald Ford had been in office less than a year, having succeeded President Nixon on August 9, 1974, after the long national nightmare of the Watergate scandal. America was unwinding itself from the extremely unpopular Vietnam War. The 1973 OPEC oil embargo triggered rising gas prices throughout the 1970s, straining Americans’ budgets.
“JAWS” came about when it was easier to captivate an entire country, especially people looking for an escape from the hardships of daily life. Evening news programs attracted the eyeballs of close to 40 million people, so advertising campaigns only had to air on the few available channels to saturate their message. The filmmakers utilized the immense popularity of the source novel by Peter Benchley and combined heavy advertising with a wide initial release, opening at over 400 screens in the United States. Contrast that with “The Godfather,” which opened on only five screens in 1972. “JAWS” preoccupied the entire nation, introducing the concept of the summer blockbuster. The merchandising campaign, the first of its kind, permeated the entire country with “JAWS”-themed shirts, posters, mugs, toys, and other items. If it had a surface, the “JAWS” logo could be imprinted on it.
Riding the wave of that cultural phenomenon, my parents took my brothers and me to a drive-in theatre to see “JAWS.” I was in elementary school, and my brothers were a bit younger. I asked my mother recently why she took such young children to a horror movie. She says that, at the time, all families were going to see it – people described it as scary, but you did not realize the terror until you actually saw it. She spent the rest of the summer trying to convince us there were no sharks in the pool at our local swim club.
Like sharks, aspects of America seem to survive without change as we face many of the same economic and political problems we did in the 1970s. We have evolved in other ways, but maybe not for the better.
In the “JAWS” beach scenes, adults and children are talking, swimming, and playing, both on the sand and in the water. The only electronic item in sight is a battery-powered radio. Today, people may be together, but phones hold their attention as they scroll and text. Rather than living in the moment, today’s beachgoers pose for pictures or videos, and then spend time editing, posting, and commenting, ignoring the people actually in their physical presence and the vastness and beauty of the ocean right in front of them. Technology has expanded our world, but also distracts us from the simple act of living.
I have rewatched “JAWS” countless times since 1975. The shark scares me, not because I think he is specifically targeting humans, but more because he is a creature looking for food, and by going in the ocean, people make themselves available to hungry sea creatures. The fictional town of Amity seemed idyllic, but I also wondered for years about the town’s mayor. Why was a person in authority not taking more action to keep everyone safe by closing the beaches?
I now have much more sympathy for the mayor. He knew they depended on the revenues from tourists in the summer season to sustain the town for an entire year. His dismissiveness over a couple of shark attacks was really a fear that the wrong decision would destroy the economy of the town indefinitely. Life constantly presents us with those choices: weigh the risks, choose a path, and hope you choose correctly.
Ultimately, Police Chief Brody, Ocean expert Hooper, and Fisherman Quint set out on a relatively small boat to find and catch the shark; the simplicity of three men, with ropes, barrels, and harpoons, stood in sharp contrast to the threat they faced. Hooper warned boat neophyte Brody about the compressed air tanks and the risk of explosion if mishandled. Thank heavens Brody was paying attention and not fiddling with his phone, live streaming, or posting content, because that information would soon be vital.
One lonely boat on the water drew the shark out of the water’s depths to eventually put him in range of Chief Brody’s gun. Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen the movie. Chief Brody, remembering Hooper’s warning, manages to shove the compressed air tank into the shark’s mouth and shoot it with his gun, causing the tank and the shark to explode.
The filmmakers knew the monster had to be defeated spectacularly to satisfy audiences and show triumph over perceived evil. Shooting the shark and simply allowing his carcass to sink to the bottom of the ocean would have destroyed the enemy, but without the fanfare an audience craves.
This fantastic Hollywood ending had no connection to reality. Compressed air tanks are neither explosive nor flammable. The bullet would not be enough to cause anything more than a hole in the side of the tank. But movies need melodrama. Similarly, sharks pose very little threat to humans. Both Spielberg and Benchley expressed regret regarding the negative attitude towards sharks generated by the book and film.
During this summer’s fiftieth anniversary rerelease of the film, maybe filmgoers will notice the peaceful lack of sophisticated technology in Amity and think about the benefits of the simpler, phone-free existence portrayed onscreen. America in the 1970s certainly had its problems, just like America of today. But hopefully, watching the onscreen families living in the moment, enjoying the beach, ocean, and each other, will remind people to put down their phones so they do not miss experiencing life to its fullest, in real time, and not through a screen.
