THE MOST RELENTLESSLY AWESOME FILMS EVER - PART NINE:
JAWS
After 40 years of being regarded as one of the greatest
films ever made, it might seem redundant to further analyse 'Jaws' - there have,
after all, been entire books written about the film. But I can still bring a personal perspective
to why it remains so greatly loved, and continues to terrorise and captivate
each new generation. If you were growing
up in the late 1970's or '80's, there is little doubt that you were at some
point terrified by this film: John William's menacing and hysteria-inducing score,
the gory shocks of severed hands or chewed off heads, and the horrific sight of
thrashing limbs as the sea turns red - these are etched on to the psyche of an
entire generation. But we survived this
trauma, partly because the film ends on a cathartic and brighter note than the
death and terror that precedes it; and partly because we all took it and put it
in the games we played - who else would play 'Jaws' in the school playground,
chasing their friends, snapping their arms like a fanged mouth, while singing
the 'duh-duh, duh-duh' signature over and over?
I can't have been the only one!
But this is a film that doesn't just frighten kids, there
is real substance to the plot and characters that make it one that so many
people happily revisit time after time, year on year. Of course, it is directed with real panache
by Spielberg - no one would know what a dolly zoom is if it wasn't for that shot - but it helps that the script, and the actors playing them, give the
characters a depth that really makes this film more than the simple 'shark
hunt' story it could otherwise have been.
It's little touches that blockbusters nowadays often overlook that help achieve
this; for example, I love the scene where Chief Brody and his wife make fun of
the New England accents of the community they've moved to ("I'll put the
CAAHRR in the GAH-RAAHGE!") - it's a scene that does nothing to advance
the plot, but is so intrinsic to the characters - it's easy see how many films
today would have cut it out altogether.
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| One of the most famous shots in film history... |
When I think about Jaws, something that springs to mind
is how it is one of those few films that, if you come across it channel
hopping, inevitably you end up watching it regardless how far in it is. I don't just think that's because it has been
seen so many times that it's etched on our minds (though it might be); to me
it's because it almost feels like two films in one. The first half, where the threat of the shark
is slowly being realised as it begins to terrorise the swimmers around Amity
Island, feels like a '50's monster b-movie, or a horror movie. You've got some of the elements - the police
chief and 'scientist' (okay, biologist) that realise the threat but whose
warnings fall on deaf ears amongst those in authority, until (of course) it's
too late. You've got a relentless, uncatchable,
dangerous and barely seen monster, from whom no one is safe - even dogs or
children. (As a side note, am I the only
one who gets frustrated during the scene where Mrs Kintner, grieving at the
death of her son at the shark, slaps Brody round the face? I always want to scream at the screen
"go slap the stupid Mayor, it's his fault the beaches weren't
closed!" Or, maybe that's just me? Ok then.) But then the film shifts in the final section,
almost half the film, as Quint takes Brody and Hooper out to hunt the beast:
okay, the strands of the shark hunt are already set up, but the feel becomes
that of an adventure, a wild hunt, a cat-and-mouse thriller at sea.
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| All together now: "you're gonna need..." |
During this second half there are moments where the film
deliberately slows down, further differentiating itself from what has preceded
it; the films ups the tension to almost unbearable levels for a scene where no
one - not even Brody's children - are safe, then it almost goes off at a
tangent, with the focus seemingly shifting to Quint. Well, it might just be that Robert Shaw's
performance is so iconic, so mesmerising, that it seems like the film becomes
about him and his quest to get the shark.
Again, it's incredible to think that any film, especially one that is
apparently a genre movie, would take a shift at the final act, when most films
are gearing up to their climax. That's
not to say that at this point the film doesn't have tension, or build to a
satisfying and tense finale - which of course it does - but there are few films
that would still find space for great moments of character while gearing
towards a final showdown. We should all
be thankful that 'Jaws' does this, as we get one of the greatest single scenes ever committed to celluloid: an evening of drinks leads to some unlikely male
bonding between three unimaginably disparate characters, seguing in to an unforgettable
monologue from Shaw: his revelation about the USS Indianapolis. It is a moment that, aside from the
phenomenal acting performance that Shaw delivers, is a moment that - in the
midst of an apparently light-hearted scene - manages to make the film even more
disquieting, and brings a level of genuine and actual horror to it. For whilst the shark attacks of the first
part of the film, terrifying as they are, are still fiction, this monologue is
based in fact. And it carries deeper
terror, as it draws attention to the fate of these lost and seemingly abandoned
sailors, facing the prospect of drowning or being eaten alive; furthermore,
during a time of war, when capture by the Japanese military must have been a
terrifying prospect. And the final piece on top of all
that, the mission was to deliver the first Nuclear bomb used during war - a
subtle reminder that mankind is capable of acts far more horrific than those driven by the survival instincts of a natural predator.
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| "Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies..." |
'Jaws' was a landmark release at the time, it etched
itself on the minds of the generation that were children when it was first
released - but it remains an enduring classic.
And I think it's worth considering how remarkable that is, because on
paper it doesn't add up to a film that has followed some 'template' or 'recipe'
to be successful: hallmarks of B-movies, monster movies, horror movies; terror,
gore and menace; a final act that veers in to a nautical adventure, or a study
of man versus nature. But Spielberg's
seminal direction - his technical mastery, ability to make a scene just simply
work, and his lightness of touch with characters and his actors - combines with
great acting performances and an effective script to give us an iconic
masterpiece of cinema. In this piece I've barely scratched the surface of its complexity, of what makes it so great; yet the fact it its rediscovered afresh and equally loved by each new generation is testimony to what a fantastic piece of cinema it is. I just need to
persuade my son to sit and watch the whole film now - so he can be terrified,
thrilled and enthralled, just like his mum and dad were by 'Jaws' at his age..!
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