Jaws: The First Blockbuster

In 1974, people went to beaches without fear. They carelessly splashed with friends, surfed thoughtlessly, and swam with reckless abandon. Then, the following summer, everything changed.

Steven Spielberg was not the first person attached to direct Jaws, the tale of a northeastern town terrorized by a great white shark. Spielberg almost gave up the project himself for fear of becoming known as a sharks and trucks director. And he was right to have that reservation, as the project made his name synonymous with big budget, high thrill rides that would shortly be known as the Blockbuster. Jaws is pretty universally considered to have kicked off the blockbuster era, so what aspects present in Jaws can we see in the waves of films this behemoth shark helped create?

To read a brief description, Jaws appears to be a B movie - a tense creature feature, sprinkled in with spectacle. It does borrow from B movies of the 40s and 50s, and it also takes the 1950s approach of allowing social commentary into the subtext. While it’s a B movie on paper, on screen Jaws is given A treatment. The blockbusters that followed were similarly inspired by cheap or puply genre movies of earlier days given a more significant budget and thought. This played into both the filmmakers and filmgoers’ nostalgia and has created a new nostalgia for new generations. Whereas B movies of the Studio era were often disposable afterthoughts in the minds of their backers, these movies were headliners.

The release of Jaws was unusual in a number of ways. Universal bought TV ads to promote the film, which was not a common practice yet. Nor was its unusually wide release. While today movies will open seemingly in as many theatres as possible at once, the mentality of the time was that fewer theatres ensured a longer run. If you couldn’t see Jaws in your town, you’d go over to the next town that had it whose citizens had already forked over their money. 

Jaws opened in 409 theatres and set a record with its $7 million opening weekend. It would go on to gross $472 worldwide, which is well over a billion dollars when adjusted for inflation. This opening showed distributors and studios they could do more business quickly with a wide release. And in the case of Jaws, and Star Wars which followed it, there were more than a few repeat viewings.

The blockbuster mold that Jaws set also helped reaffirm to studios the benefit of making movies relevant to the four quadrants: Men and women being older and younger than 25. But - how does Jaws set that mold? The principal characters are three white men, all well over 25. There is hardly a person darker than a vanilla wafer to be seen (unless you count a sunburnt beachgoer) and the film only barely passes the Bechdel test because of this scene. 

I can only speak to cisgender men personally, and as I’m over 25 now but was younger the first time I saw the film, I can say that its appeal to me has changed. When I was young, I was titliated by the idea of a shark horror movie. The fact that it wasn’t completely bombastic made me feel sophisticated. I think that for many young people, they want to see content that makes them feel adult. And Jaws fits that mould perfectly. It has philosophy, but still has all the blowing up a shark fun that teenage boys crave. 

For women, I think the appeal is mostly the same. I did ask a few of my female-identifying friends about their relationship to Jaws, and they largely reported the same. One female cinema lover proclaimed that Jaws is a perfect movie and heralded its take on bureaucracy in the first half and toxic masculinity in its second. I think perhaps it’s an antiquated thought that men and women can’t like the same movies or content. I think that a blockbuster like Jaws transcends those parameters.

At this point in history, there also wasn’t massive representation for women, people of color, LGBTQ people, or other non-cis white male moviegoers. These groups were making truly amazing films at this time - Barbra Loden’s Wanda, John Waters’ Pink Flamingos, and Bill Gunn’s Ganja & Hess come to mind. These films were not widely available, however, and ran mostly on independent, arthouse, or midnight circuits. The Rocky Horror Picture Show was released alongside Jaws in 1975, but spread largely via word of mouth instead of Jaws’ unprecedented campaign.

But I think to say anyone but straight white men enjoyed this movie because it’s what they had is limiting to the true genius of the film. It touches on things that speak to all of us. It broods on the fear of the unknown. It puts us in a position to examine what we’d do if there was a threat to our community. It takes what could be an us versus them story and makes an us versus you and also them story.

Jaws very famously implies more than it actually shows. This falls more in line with the Hitchcock films of the previous era than the exploitation fare that had taken over cinemas in the decade preceding 1975. Partially, this is due to technical and budgetary constraints, but filmmakers of the New Hollywood generation were incredibly influenced by Studio Era films. 

Jaws is rated PG. Granted, this is before the PG-13 rating existed and it would probably be given that rating today, but it still speaks to the film’s restraint that it could be marketed so widely. There is blood in the film, but it’s not bloody. It’s tense, but it’s not intense. There’s horror, but it’s not horrifying. I think this restraint allows the film to focus more heavily on its human elements.

It’s impossible to talk about Jaws without talking about its score. It’s permeated the culture and has become synonymous with a looming threat of any kind. 

The Jaws theme’s success serves as a sort of metaphor then of how impactful the film was. If you’re watching this video and have never seen Jaws, you’re at least aware of it. Perhaps in more detail than you know. You might also recognize lines like “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.” Jaws brought sharks into our consciousness, which paved the way for Shark Week. If you think twice before stepping a foot into the ocean, you have Jaws to thank.

This permeation of the culture also set the tone for blockbusters to come. John Williams’ scores are perhaps more indicative of blockbuster filmmaking than a visual could ever hope to be. Others have emulated his genius in other efforts, creating sweeping, bold compositions that contain earworms fit to have you coming back for more.

Watching Jaws today is a sort of surreal experience. I rewatched this movie for kicks at the start of summer 2020 and it hit far too close to home. Watching people argue over if beaches should be closed for the potential of a shark attack, or kept open to support the economy was completely wild to take in amid the closures, reopenings, and other debates happening during the first months of the pandemic. 

Jaws is a smart movie because it doesn’t lay out cut-and-dry who is right or wrong. Okay, the Mayor is wrong. But the town does need tourism to thrive. As we’ve seen over the last year, time away can have lasting effects. But the movie smartly pits those economic needs against the human lives in danger every moment the shark is on the loose. It plays perfectly with the paranoia of knowing a shark could be lurking in any corner of the sea, and grapples with the real human consequences of not heeding the warnings. 

In some ways, Jaws almost plays like a slasher. There’s an early death to introduce the killer, escalating tension and kills leading to a final standoff. But most slashers don’t have scenes like this. (Scene of woman confronting sheriff). 

In this approximation, Chief Brody acts sort of like Dr. Faucci. Listening to the experts, in this case Hooper, to make advice to the public that will save lives. Like Faucci, however, Brody can’t take the actions he would deem necessary all on his own. He finds himself caught between what’s right and best for the people and their greater will. While he does get confronted for letting the boy die, he also meets this crowd who wholly opposes his plan. (scene in town council).

I think it was weirdly comforting and alarming to watch this movie and see that felt completely unique and unprecedented were actually history repeating itself yet again.

Jaws is split into essentially two halves. The first half is the aforementioned section at and around the beach. It’s tense and taught, full of psychological as well as shark-inspired thrills. The second half sees the three men at sea trying their best to kill the titular fish. The film turns to a sort of action-packed character study.

Compared to the blockbusters it would spawn, this movie feels restrained. But that restraint, I think, is Jaws’ great strength. The movie delivers on its promises, while also providing characters and themes that a lesser film may not have.

Many have offered different interpretations to the film. I encourage you to watch or rewatch it and make meaning for yourself. For me, I think it's hard to deny the idea of a barely seen threat as an allegory for the many shadowed threats of the early to mid 1970s. The U.S. had been through the Watergate scandal, and there was an air of mistrust. The film then depicts a man of the law determined to make a difference blowing up that unseen terror and restoring order.

It’s also hard not to read anything from this period through the film of the Cold War. The shark threatened to close down the beaches as lucrative money makers, just as it was perceived Communism threatened Capitalism and the American way of life. The only way to fight that lurking force is through a combination of order, represented by Brody, knowledge, represented by Hooper, and blue-collar workers, represented by Quint.

I think subtext is part of what made the film such a big success as well. There was much catharsis in seeing the unthinking menace get its comeuppance. There was much reward in seeing that sacrifices made by everyday people like Quint were meaningful. There was joy in knowing that there was community against the evils of the world.

As I mentioned, some have found the film to be a take-down of toxic masculinity and the male ego. Quint is hyper masculine in a way that ultimately leads to his death. He’s also a working-class man who resents Hooper for his inherited wealth. Hooper signals that wealth and education are connected, while Quint introduces himself like this (chalkboard).

Brody lies somewhere in the middle. He has left the urban landscape of 1970s New York to try to actually make a difference in his community - only to be confronted by a force of nature he can’t control. He is a masculine protector who finds himself in over his head and swimming against great currents.