Ed note: This reconsideration of Jaws and its three sequels was inspired by all four films arriving on Netflix on Sept. 1.
Very few films have had an impact like 1975’s Jaws. It’s a one-film cinematic revolution that goes far beyond igniting Steven Spielberg’s career and giving him blank-check freedom to choose his projects, and it’s lasted a lot longer than the wave of “animals attack” films that followed it, like Piranha, Grizzly,and Alligator. In fact, some say Jaws’ massive successdoomed Hollywood, steering it away from auteur-led projects and into a world where few things matter more than opening weekend numbers, mega advertising, and summer blockbuster season.
But Jaws’ success didn’t come out of nowhere, and it wasn’t a fluke. Spielberg’s movieis every bit as good as its reputation, and its sheer existence is a borderline miracle. Spielberg started with a story that easily could have become garish schlock on the screen, and used it to convince audiences that three movie stars (Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss, and Robert Shaw) were really being menaced in the middle of the ocean, even though the mechanical shark meant to menace them barely worked.
Jaws is a masterclass in direction, editing, and music, and considering its profound achievement, it seems like there should have been a mad dash to replicate it — to figure out what about it worked so well for audiences, and double down. But there never really was. No Jaws sequel has ever actually attempted to capture what made Spielberg’s film so wonderful.
In adapting Peter Benchley’s hugely successful novel Jaws, Spielberg and his writers chipped away at excess subplots (most notably, an affair between two of the characters) until it was pure, lean storytelling. The
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