IMDb #211 Review: Jaws (1975)

Source: Wikipedia

This summer blockbuster cancelled millions of beach trips, indirectly murdered millions of sharks, and garnered millions of dollars. Thank Stephen Spielberg’s crappy animatronic prop, John Williams’s unforgettable score, and the eminently forgettable source novel.

We begin with a teen beach party celebrating bonfires and seventies hairstyles. Amorous shenanigans go awry, and a skinny-dipping waif dies theatrically.

When the authorities recover her fragments, the smarmy mayor refuses to close the beaches. However, when shark rumors poke above water, the entitled middle-class nitwits freak out.

The reward summons wannabe shark-killers, who only succeed in catching red herrings. Naturally, the beach remains open for a Fourth-of-July swimmer smorgasbord.

The shark is incidental. The true enemy? Greed. Stupidity. Tiny minds. The people don’t listen to warnings, just severed limbs. And the good citizens of Amity, New York blame the heroes for their own incapacity to absorb information. (Case in point: bereaved mom in black veil blames the chief for son’s death/the mayor’s dumbass decision.)

So the heroes muster a team. A police chief scared of water; a weirdo oceanographer prone to dropping important things in moments of crisis; and a crazy misanthropic shark-killer who cites an isolated incident from World War II as a Freudian excuse for his crusade.

The dudes hang out on a boat, toss meat overboard, swap scar stories, booze it up. Actually, the shark hunt occupies the entire (substantially superior) second hour.

Although Mythbusters debunked the movie's solution the shark problem, it’s still great fun.

Recommended for oceanographers keen on skewering misconceptions and small-town government studying poor crisis management.