“TCM Presents: Jaws 40th Anniversary” swims its way to select theaters on Sunday, June 21, and Wednesday, June 24. The program, which is presented in conjunction with Fathom Events and Universal Pictures Home Entertainment, includes the movie plus a filmed introduction by Ben Mankiewicz.
Jaws has long-since been a staple of the home-viewing industry—cable-TV, video, DVD, and expanded anniversary editions. The film has also been the subject of many books, articles, TV specials, and documentaries, mostly focusing on its troubled production. Over and over, director Steven Spielberg has recounted the problems with the mechanical shark, which was nicknamed Bruce, and the delays in production, which angered the studio. The behind-the-scenes stories and jokes about the shark are now part of movie folklore.
Jaws has been seen by most of the movie-going public; it’s a film that has become a part of the collective cultural consciousness. So, why watch it again? Because the best film experiences are often the ones in which a familiar movie is re-viewed under different circumstances.
EDITOR VERNA FIELDS VISITS SPIELBERG ON SET.
One of my complaints about contemporary blockbusters is the lack of craftsmanship. Today, studios aim commercial features at adolescents who are easily entertained by fast pacing, speeding vehicles, and confusing montages of fights, explosions, and crashes. Watching Jaws provides an opportunity to compare its near-perfect direction, cinematography, and editing to today’s cinematic atrocities by the likes of Michael Bay, Brett Ratner, Len Wiseman, and Zack Snyder. Though heavy on action, Jaws is dependent on suspense for its thrills rather than speed, noise, or spectacle, and suspense is the result of good editing and camerawork. Editor Verna Fields convinced Spielberg to show little of the shark until the last act when the three main characters are at sea in pursuit. She often shaved down shots of the shark a frame at a time until the shark was on screen just long enough to register with the audience. More importantly, settings are depicted clearly through establishing shots, with scenes unfolding in a well-defined sense of space so viewers know where the characters are in relation to any danger—another strategy to create tension and suspense.
NEVER HAS A PIECE OF OLD DOCK SEEMED SO THREATENING.
Often, we know where the shark is and what it is capable of without actually seeing it. John Williams’s Oscar-winning score provides the most obvious example of impending danger, but other techniques are equally as powerful. In one of my favorite scenes, two fishermen who are eager to collect the bounty on the shark throw a dinner roast off a dock to serve as bait. The shark takes the roast, which is attached to a hook and line, and swims out to sea. In a deft piece of parallel editing, the scene cuts to Sheriff Brody as he leafs through several books about sharks. Close-ups of the glossy color photos show bite victims, who are missing limbs or huge chunks of flesh, and boats that have been splintered into pieces. As the scene cuts back to the fishermen on the dock, we now know that they are in grave danger because we have seen what sharks are capable of. The powerful shark pulls part of the dock away, and one of the fishermen falls into the water. Only the wreckage of the dock is visible as the shark swims out to sea, moving screen right. Suddenly, the wreckage turns around and begins to move screen left as the fisherman scrambles to get out of the water. Though the shark is never visible in this scene, we know that it is deadly because of the parallel editing involving the photographs, and we know where it is in relation to the fisherman because Fields is careful with screen direction. Simple, standard editing techniques but effective and powerful in the hands of a good editor.
A CAMERAMAN HAND-HOLDS FROM A PRECARIOUS POSITION ABOARD THE CAMERA BOAT.
BILL BUTLER SETS UP ONE OF THE FILM’S MOST FAMOUS SHOTS.
Also, the cinematography by Bill Butler is worthy of praise. Framing and camera placement are crucial to the suspense and drama in Jaws. The decision by Spielberg to place the camera just below the water level in some scenes suggests that the shark could be present, and we are in his playground. The subjective camerawork below water from the shark’s perspective as he snakes through the ocean is fluid and smooth. And, the shot of the Orca as it carries the three main characters out to sea is beautifully framed through a set of shark jaws hanging in Quint’s boat shop. The image ominously foreshadows the fates of the men as the film begins the third and final act. Most impressive are the scenes aboard the Orca—all of which were shot hand-held by Butler and his crew. Shooting hand-held was necessary to keep the images from tilting and listing with the camera boat, and yet the shots appear still, even, and solid. Viewers would be hard-pressed to recognize that the scenes were hand-held. The precise camerawork aboard the Orca depicts the action with nail-biting excitement, tension, and suspense. When I think of the shaky-cam technique currently in vogue, in which the camera is deliberately jerked and shaken to create an artificial sense of excitement, I am reminded of Butler’s stellar hand-held work on Jaws. Shaky-cam proponents ought to hang their heads in embarrassment. Watching a film for the second or third time, when the plot is already known, allows viewers to look more carefully at editing, framing, composition, and camerawork.
IN A MOMENT ONLY THE VIEWER SEES, BRODY CHECKS HIS SCAR AS QUINT AND HOOPER BRAG ABOUT THEIRS.
SHAW, SCHEIDER, AND DREYFUSS
Jaws was based on Peter Benchley’s best-selling novel, though the plot was simplified in the screenplay. The film is better than the novel, partly because of the streamlined narrative and partly because the primary actors—Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfus, and Robert Shaw—created such memorable characters. Scheider stands out as everyman Martin Brody who, like a classic hero, rises to the occasion to overcome his fears and solve the problem for the greater good. Seasick and sunburned, Brody lacks the expertise of the two shark professionals, and he is reduced to chumming with fish guts to attract the killer fish. As a lifelong shark hunter and fisherman, Shaw’s Captain Quint represents practical experience, while Dreyfus’s Hooper is a highly educated marine biologist using the latest technology and research. Quint and Hooper, who want the shark for personal reasons, compete with each other—experience vs. education—throughout the journey. In another famous scene, the two compare scars from wounds caused by sea creatures. Brody does not play, but in a well-placed medium shot, we see him pull up his shirt to reveal a scar. I have always thought it was from a gunshot wound, a far more serious injury that speaks to his job and responsibilities as a cop. However, some viewers have assumed it was an appendectomy scar, with the implication that his scar does not measure up to Hooper’s or Quint’s. Either way, it is Brody the everyman who kills the shark—not for personal glory but because it is his duty to protect his family and his community.
ONE OF THE PRODUCT TIE-INS FOR ‘JAWS,’ HOLLYWOOD’S FIRST OFFICIAL BLOCKBUSTER, WAS THIS MODEST PLASTIC CUP.
Interestingly, Jaws was released during the heyday of the Film School Generation, an era when filmmakers preferred dark anti-heroes to heroic protagonists. Film School directors tended to criticize American society by depicting its core institutions as corrupt or obsolete, and they liked to experiment with established storytelling techniques. With its classic continuity editing, tightly constructed linear narrative, and heroic protagonist who upholds American values and institutions, Jaws bucks these trends. Marriage, the nuclear family, education, and law and order are all upheld via the actions of the characters.
However, one social institution that does not fare well is the military—not surprising considering the specter of Vietnam still loomed over the nation in 1975. The military is subtly disparaged via the character of Quint, who is one of the survivors of the U.S.S. Indianapolis. In Shaw’s finest moment, he underplays his larger-than-life character while Quint tells the story of the Indianapolis, the ship that delivered the atomic bomb to the South Pacific in 1945. The cruiser had no escort or protection from Japanese submarines, because the mission was shrouded in secrecy. When it was hit by a torpedo, it sank into shark-infested waters, but the secrecy of the mission stalled any rescue attempts. According to Quint, hundreds of men were eaten by the sharks as they waited for a rescue that was delayed for almost a week. Disgusted by the military’s handling of the situation, the old shark hunter had the U.S.S. Indianapolis tattoo removed from his forearm, leaving his largest scar. The scar is both physical and psychological, hinting that Quint’s profession as a shark hunter (read shark killer) comes from a place of personal vengeance. The story of the Indianapolis is true, though Quint’s details are not entirely accurate. Few members of the public knew about the historical event until Jaws, and the discovery of the Navy’s fumbling of the incident and the resultant loss of life only confirmed a generation’s distrust of the military as an institution. However, the film does not condemn the sailors who were victims of the Indianapolis disaster; it does not criticize the fighting men who were at the mercy of an uncaring, inept military (as presented in Quint’s story)—an important distinction to understand.
QUINT TELLS THE STORY OF THE U.S.S. INDIANAPOLIS.
Finally, Jaws provides an excellent example for the argument that movies are best viewed on the big screen. Movies are an immersive, larger-than-life experience: Their full effect can only be felt by watching them in a darkened theater on a big screen with an audience. Comedies are funnier; horror films scarier; and thrillers, like Jaws, more suspenseful. From the iconic score to the underwater point-of-view footage to the close-up of the shark’s open mouth just before Sheriff Brody mumbles, “You’re going to need a bigger boat,” the film’s techniques have the greatest emotional and psychological impact on a big screen in a theater with no distractions. If you have seen Jaws only on television, take advantage of this opportunity and catch it in a theater.