This series is dedicated to matching memorable movies with the signature day each year upon which I could watch them forever. Coinciding with the June Friday this year that marks the first scene as the story unfolds circa 1974, let's dive into the waters of:
Jaws (1975, Universal Pictures, Steven Spielberg)
I don't recall when or at what age I was when first I saw Jaws. I feel like it was before I was a teenager, but after the age of 10. I certainly didn't appreciate it until I saw it later—probably one of the umpteen times it was re-televised on the boob tube—but it still remains as one of my personal favorite movies, horror and thrillers aside, that demands watching almost any time of year. It's so effectively in its favor, too, that it plays mostly in the bright of day, so I can't help but think of the best time to watch it as just after lunch on a lazy afternoon with the blinds drawn tight.
Speaking of boobs: this movie starts with a well-endowed young gal who gets killed while skinny-dipping. The old "innocent girl meets a horrible fate" trope. Much to its credit, I don't mind the fact that it has this horror hallmark in it as an eye-roller. In fact, I almost feel like her death is deserved. I've never sympathized with late-night partiers and the "hanging-out-to-get-drunk-and-or-laid" crowd. Normal as those activities may—albeit disguised—seem for people at a certain age, I think they hide an unscrupulous "frat-boy" way of life that is too often lauded and less than admirable and moral.
The intro of Chief Brody's family, house life, and professional circle is all done so effortlessly that it doesn't really play like a movie. I feel like I'm watching candid footage of real people in a documentary, but without the pomp and narrative critique of a documentarian's stylings. Way to go, Spielberg!
Pipit the black lab and little Alex Kintner are the shark's second (probably) and third victims. A naked girl, a dog, and a kid in the first 15 minutes. Straight cold-blooded.
Quint's chalk-board scratching scene and Hooper's examination of Chrissie's remains scene give us the perfect picture of both characters in support of Brody at the center. The three of them are so different and yet so evenly complement each other that you can't help but be eager to see any of the two of them in scenes together thereafter.
Poor Brody during the tiger shark scene. I watched Scheider's reactions and eye movements as he listens to Hooper talk about bite radiuses and then when Mrs. Kintner slaps him over the death of her son, and you can really feel his dilemma. Top shelf acting.
That scene is then followed by the sweetest, most stage theater sequence in the film at the Brody house when Hooper comes over to talk shop and share wine at the dinner table. Love Brody's interaction with his son and the line, "Give us a kiss." Reminds me of my dad.
It's a shame they didn't go out to hunt "Bruce" (the great white) later on in Hooper's boat. That's not a plot hole though. They go out in Hooper's boat, and you've got no Quint, and probably no shark. And easily 1/3 less of a movie.
"It's only an island if you look at it from the water." Brody's line sums up his worldview. He is a simple but flawed man who moves through life unafraid of what he can't control but unwilling to fully confront or acknowledge those fears. His is the most complete story arc, and everyone else in the movie serves to help him realize it.
Ben Gardner's death marks Bruce's fourth likely kill. Despite the fact that you see his corpse's head float into frame and in full view, I'm not as disturbed by it as I am the other deaths. Maybe it's because Hooper's state-of-the-art boat is so nearby. Maybe it's because the head is just a very lifelike lifecast of the actor's real head. Maybe it's just because I know it's coming.
Love the beach scene on the 4th. Brody is the only one who doesn't seem to have a place in the action. Even as the fake shark is revealed to be boys pulling a prank, and the real thing swims into the estuary to claim another life, all Brody can do is race to the scene late and in a panic. Love also how the shark passes visibly under the bridge where Brody vaults onto the sand, and everyone is pointing and shouting at it, but he doesn't blink as he sprints to find his sons and make sure they're safe.
The scene in Quint's shop after they finally hire him is full of color and tension. As big a problem as dealing with the shark, so, too, will Brody, Quint, and Hooper have to find a way to make their charter work.
I find it interesting how Quint doesn't bring his mute toadie along for the ride. Probably to make room for Hooper, whom he brought along as "ballast", but it completely makes sense from a storytelling stance how you don't need a "fourth wheel" in the mix with the established personalities already providing enough drama.
In the ongoing battle between Quint and Hooper, Quint seems to get the better of Hooper in many of the early exchanges. The unconfirmed scene where something "bites" through the piano wire would seem to be a Quint win, given Hooper's claim that whatever it was at the end of the wire wasn't a shark, but the incident could just as easily be interpreted as a draw because the scene doesn't give us anything definitive. Quint's boat might have been doomed all along, if for no better reason than Quint's pride, so it may have been simply due to the inadequate condition of Quint's wire. Or it was actually the shark. The viewer decides, or doesn't. And doubt lingers as the tension thickens.
Williams's score gets a lot of credit for the iconic "dun-dun dun-dun DUN-DUN" piece—and rightfully so!—but I love, too, the soaring, swashbuckler's theme that plays during the chase after they put a barrel in Bruce. It's stirring and adventurous and perfectly helps to release some tension before the next build-up.
Best. Drunk. Men. Guffawing. Scene. Ever. The whole comparing scars, drinking to legs, and unbridled laughter is so joyous and real that it demands your attention and causes you to fully invest in the fate of these characters. They're brothers now. It's that power of the drink again. It's a vile practice, but a vital one at times. Preceding something bad, more often than not.
The Indianapolis monologue is pure legend. And the truest story in the film. It's a sobering reminder that their briefly shared levity and camaraderie—not unlike what naval crews at war might share—can't foresee what lies beneath the surface.
The tragic moments start bubbling over when Quint takes a bat to the radio and has a spat with Brody over his rash actions. Then again when Hooper jaws with Quint over his stubborn refusal to admit anything when he is at the wheel of the Orca right before her engine blows. Quint tossing the life jackets to them and bowing to Hooper's shark cage strategy is him conceding.
"Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed!" and "Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies…" are utterly embedded into the soundscape of Jaws.
Worst. Movie. Death. Ever. Quint's demise is so explicitly shown and so poetically tragic. The stuff of nightmares. Short of being crucified, I can't imagine a worse way to go than to be helplessly eaten alive by a remorseless creature of the depths. No small wonder this movie has traumatized audiences for decades about going into the water. I can almost psyche myself out of going into the deep end of a pool for fear that there might be a shark there waiting for me—ridiculous, I know! That's the power and appeal of Jaws.
The movie ends with a great cathartic release and a final tension unwinder as you watch Brody and Hooper climb on shore behind the scrolling credits. It's standalone perfection and requires no sequels to be enjoyed over and over.
June 28 — 7 of 365 logged
