Why ‘Jaws’ Remains the King of Summer Horror

May 27, 2021

Jaws Shark Experience summer horror — Jaws (1975) | Universal Pictures

“This was not a boat accident, And it wasn’t any propeller, and it wasn’t any coral reef, and it wasn’t Jack the Ripper!

It was a shark.”

We’ve made it. We’re approaching Memorial Day weekend.

Summer time. It’s a time of year associated with grilling, tanning and having fun. It’s a signal fire for people that school is out and it’s time to take a break from work. Many Americans take the opportunity during the season to pack up the family and head to the beach for a nice day out on the water. But soaking up the sun can be where the buck stops for many beach patrons. A small 1975 film called Jaws has imbued psychological damage into the social fabric that is still relevant today. It has become the quintessential reason to avoid swimming. Anywhere. Ever.

That’s why this Steven Spielberg classic is crowned the best summer horror movie, forever setting the bar as the original summer blockbuster.

We’ve all mimicked it, that two-note pattern on repeat: “Da-dum, da-dum.” Our immediate recognition of those two tones is as much fun as it is deeply Pavlovian. Pop culture is steeped in Jaws lore. This film has spawned multiple sequels, rip-offs, video games, merchandise, and a cemented spot in the back of our minds. Whenever we get faced with a seemingly insurmountable task, we assess that we’re most likely “gonna need a bigger boat” to accomplish it. We are treated to that incredible score from maestro John Williams and cheeky one-liners from the three brilliant leads — Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, and Richard Dreyfuss. But what ties it all together with a blood-soaked ribbon is the time frame it is set in.

Summer.

Surely, there are other fantastic film contenders for King of the Summer Creeps. I’ll list a few down below that I also recommend to spend the season with. But what separates Jaws from the rest of the pack are the themes and nuances held within. For a two-hour fish flick, this tale of man vs beast is more than your average monster movie.

There is a brilliant human element that I’ll admit cannot be found in your average horror entry.

Yes, this matters.

The course of the film exhausts nearly every emotion we can feel. We experience laughter at Quint’s taunts or when he and Hooper compare scars from previous exploits. We are entertained when that scene evolves into a drunken sing-a-long.

“Show me the way to go home…”

There is sweetness and vulnerability shared when Police Chief Brody (Scheider) enjoys a tender moment with his son at the dinner table; Mrs. Brody (Lorraine Gary) looking on with a mother’s grace and a wife’s worry. Rage boils in our blood at the selfishly-absorbed Mayor Vaughn (Murray Hamilton) digging his heels in the sand to keep Amity Island’s beaches open through the July 4th weekend, despite the death toll rising. There are moments of enjoyable embarrassment of Chief Brody clumsily knocking over paint supplies, picking up the wrong phone, handling the surly townspeople and dressing like an absolute dork before sailing off on the Orca in the third act. We feel empathy when Alex Kintner’s mother, in full funeral regalia, chastises Chief Brody with a hard slap to his face after the alleged shark is caught, insisting Brody is at fault for her boy’s death. There is a fetching morbid wonder, uneasiness and power surging during Quint’s monologue about his time on (and off) the USS Indianapolis. That scene is a masterclass in acting. It still nails me to the nearest seat whenever I watch it.

Oh yeah, there’s also a great big shark in this movie killing people.

There isn’t too much new ground to break on the subject of the shark’s appearance, rather absence, during the film that hasn’t already been mentioned by other writers and critics in the past 46 years. The brilliance in using props such as the yellow barrels and POV underwater shots do plenty to ramp up the tension. Not to mention once again, that brilliant score accompanying most of those moments is hardly forgettable. I could be treading towards slippery-slope fallacy territory here, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

I think summer, so I then think of vacation. The beach is a huge vacation destination. Where there is a beach, there is an ocean. People go into the ocean, the water. Sharks are in the water.

Our shark.

As the slimy Mayor Vaughn presses Brody, “It’s all psychological. You yell ‘Barracuda’, everyone says ‘Huh? What?’. You yell ‘Shark!’, and we’ve got a panic on our hands on the Fourth of July.”

Our primal fear of the unknown and being out of our element run their course in Jaws. Our hero, Chief Brody, not an islander, from New York City, is out of his element in the worst way. He hates the water. But the citizens in his charge are being killed, removing the typically peaceful and happy austere of his town; his twilight career takes a hard left turn into a cluster. Amity Island, his new home, a place usually ripe for sunny beaches swallowed up by summer tourists, is swirling the drain of bankruptcy and mortality.

“Amity, as you know, means friendship.”

We can relate to Chief Brody, we can relate to the intelligent, yet slightly naive scientist Matt Hooper (Dreyfuss), too. Relating to the hardened Captain Ahab-esque Quint (Shaw) is tougher for me, as he is too much of a sassy wildcard. But it’s these relatable qualities and the chemistry between the three men that pull us in and keep us there the entire film. They go on the ultimate fishing trip. What could scream summer more than beers, fishing line, chumming fish guts, and scuba tanks out on open water?

Oh yeah, there’s still a helluva fish out there.

It’s fitting that I find myself circling back to the actual shark in brief moments as I write this. It parallels the rate of its own appearance in the film: briefly. This horrifying cadence still keeps viewers on their toes (which probably won’t be dipped in water anytime soon). The mechanics and production of the shark being dubious, to say the least, during filming was a true blessing in disguise. I look back at Jaws now and while I can still see the obvious phoniness of the model shark, I will recoil when it shows up all the same. The tension and buildup that is promised the whole film still pays off in a big way.

With such relatable characters juxtaposed against a terrifying leviathan, accompanied by an unforgettable score that eventually slides into what I would call “pirate adventure” territory (rewatch the chase scene, you’ll hear it), Jaws was made to be a summer movie. It’s grand yet accessible. Bloody without being ostentatious. It’s fantasy, yet cunningly real. And mostly, it’s just an inexplicably fun time. And that’s what summer is; what it means to a lot of people. A fun and enjoyable ride. Three cheers to everyone to keep their life vests on, don’t go swimmin’ with bow-legged women and have a safe summer!

“I used to hate the water.”
“I can’t imagine why?”

As promised, here is a quick (but far from absolute) list of other horror summer selections worth your time: