Over-the-Shoulder Review: "Jaws"

Half a century later, this monster of a movie still has bite

“Jaws” is fifty years old, but you wouldn’t know it. Yes, the clothing and cars are dated; some might even find the pacing and focus on character to be the quaint vestiges of an earlier time when not every film was built around cities being destroyed, massive space battles, and rapid-fire martial arts battles. But the narrative bones of this beast? Its power to startle, grip, and terrorize? Those remain unabated. Check out the new “Jaws 50th” trailer from Universal to get a sense of the movie’s enduring power:

The focus right now (as the above trailer shows) is how “Jaws” essentially created the summer blockbuster — the phenomenon of a handful of big movies that are expected to drive a significant (if not majority) share of box office profits for the entire year. This was a monster movie in more ways than one.

But the economics of the film’s success, while notable, shouldn’t be allowed to overshadow what truly makes “Jaws” special: Steven Spielberg’s visual inventiveness, and his unerring sense of structure, even when (as is the case here) he’s challenging the norms. (Yes, I know, John Williams’ score was instrumental to “Jaws,” and necessity truly was the mother of invention as Spielberg needed to work around a mechanical shark that didn’t work right, if at all… but those are topics for another day.)

“Jaws” is essentially two movies seamlessly joined into one. The first half is a land-based “civic drama” in which a community, and a family, grow increasingly more afraid (with some of the town’s elements diving deeper into denial) as a series of shark attacks unfold. As Roy Scheider’s ocean-phobic Chief Brody heads into the open water on Quint’s (Robert Shaw) boat along with marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss), the camera — situated inside Quint’s shack — zooms in on the vessel, framing it in within the circumference of a shark’s teeth-lined, splayed-open jaw, marking the moment the film’s second half begins. A completely new tone and rhythm commences as the three men hunt the killer shark. They quarrel, they bond, and, finally, they face off with the man-eating monster.

There’s more going here than the unusual narrative structure. Spielberg’s detail-focused approach leaves no scene — no beat in a scene — without his signature stylistic rigor. Take the revolutionary sequence in which Chief Brody sits on a beach, tensely watching for any signs of a shark as locals splash around in the surf. Ten-year-old Alex Kinter pleads for just a few more minutes in the water, and his mother reluctantly agrees. A young man plays fetch with his dog, Fido bounding happily through the water. It’s an everyday scene, but it’s permeated with extraordinary dread.

As Brody keeps his vigil, the camera creeps closer and closer to him in a series of jump cuts, the edits cunningly tucked into moments when passers-by momentarily pass between him and the camera; he’s jittery, and the sight of a swimmer’s dark bathing cap is enough to make him sit up anxiously. His concentration is challenged when he is approached by an entitled local bigwig complaining about a vehicle being parked in front of his house and demanding that a no-parking zone be established for his personal convenience. The man’s face blocks Brody’s view of the surf, but Brody stays attentive to what he can see: A young woman in the water remains in crisp focus, as does the man’s face in the extreme foreground. (This was a favorite effect of director Robert Wise, and one he might well have learned while working as an editor on Orson Welles’ “Citizen Kane”; probably not coincidentally, this was an effect Alfred Hitchcock, too, occasionally used).

The man’s petty gripe and (literally) in-your-face attitude are irritants that inflame Brody’s already-raw nerves, such that when the young woman he’s been watching starts screaming, Brody all but leaps to his feet. False alarm: Her boyfriend has sneaked up on her, and now the young couple are frolicking. Meantime, Brody’s older son, Michael, has dashed into the water with his friends; his younger son, Sean, is building a sand castle; and, ominously, the young man’s dog has somehow disappeared. “Pippin?” the young man calls, puzzled, as the stick they were playing with floats abandoned on the waves.

Finally, the horrific moment arrives when Alex Kintner, splashing around on his inflatable raft, is suddenly, spectacularly devoured by the shark in a fountain of turbulent water and billowing scarlet. Spielberg uses the “dolly zoom,” in which the camera closes in on Brody’s shocked face while the background seems to recede — a vertiginous effect that originated in, well, “Vertigo,” the Alfred Hitchcock film, to convey Jimmy Stewart’s terror. The effect’s visceral power is magnified by the way Spielberg has set it up, using techniques that weren’t unknown, but also weren’t ubiquitous in film… not until Spielberg showed how they could amp up suspense and pay off with absolute horror.

This is, of course, only one example. “Jaws” is a generous bounty of indelible moments. Early on, the outline of a female swimmer is seen in silhouette by the shark as it glides toward her from the depths; that same unfortunate victim is then yanked and dragged rapidly through the water by the unseen creature in an adrenaline-surging attack; the sequence is stunningly capped when her scream is abruptly cut off as she’s yanked beneath the surface and the water closes over her head with a snap.

Later on, the townsfolk, coaxed into the surf by the reckless mayor, are sent into hysterics when two young boys play a prank with a cardboard shark fin; a hilarious moment follows as the boys look up to see several boatloads of people pointing rifles at them. Switching perspectives, the camera looks back at the boys as one of them, pointing at the other, stammers, “He made me do it!” It’s a punchline born of relief in the wake of impending horror — but a moment later, true terror strikes again: The shark has chosen that moment to swim into an estuary where a bunch of kids, including Michael, are sailing around. More bloodshed and chaos follow, with the communal panic summarized by the image of Michael lying on the sand in shock and Sean crying. The family are safe, but emotionally devastated by the sudden turn of events — and so are we.

Another moment that blends humor with horror follows: Aboard Quint’s boat, Chief Brody is tossing chum into the ocean to attract the shark. Muttering unhappily about the assignment, he looks away from the water for a moment, just as the shark pops up — the first time we get a good look at the monster. It’s a jolt to Brody and to the audience alike, and a jump cut to a different angle shows the startled Brody swiftly yanking back. It’s a terror sandwich framed by grim humor as Brody commences to deliver the iconic deadpan line, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

“Jaws” was only Spielberg’s second theatrical feature, after “The Sugarland Express” (and his third film, with the TV movie “Duel” marking his entry into movies after a string of television directorial assignments, including a Joan Crawford-starring segment of the pilot for Rod Serling’s “Night Gallery”). Who could have predicted the mastery with which the young filmmaker composed not only the visuals, but the emotional beats as well? But “Jaws” was only a preview of things to come, as Spielberg created — and continues to create — movies of unparalleled craftsmanship and storytelling artistry.

“Jaws” streams on major platforms including Netflix, Apple TV, Vudu, Amazon Prime, YouTube, Google Play, and Peacock; the film is also headed for a theatrical re-release in August.