“What we are dealing with here is a perfect engine, an eating machine.” –Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfus)

It is July 4th, 1975, and I am eleven years old.  About the only thing on my mind is making sure I get enough Mystic Snakes in my fireworks box (those weird tiny black discs that burned the sidewalk and left behind long wormy ashes), and hoping I don’t get any duplicates in the Wacky Packages I just bought (if I see one more “Bear Aspirin” sticker, I’m gonna hurl).

My older cousin (2nd cousin, cousin-in-law, whatever) was dying to go see this new movie and he was convinced by the adults to drag me along.  We walked a few blocks to the theatre near his house and I saw something I had never seen before: a line of at least a hundred people waiting patiently to get in.  When we tried to buy tickets, I had my next new experience: the show was sold out.

We had stumbled upon the phenomenon known as: The First Summer Blockbuster.

Jaws.

I had heard of the movie, I had (vaguely) seen news reports about it, but I never really understood until I was faced with it: this thing was huge.

From my eleven-year-old perspective, the terrific scares made the biggest impression upon me. Shots of Ben Gardner’s head popping out from his ruined boat, or a severed leg lazily bouncing off the sandy ocean floor, or the shark’s toothy grin suddenly appearing behind Roy Scheider–these all made me jump and scream and then giggle as if I was on the greatest roller coaster in the world, and they were the same scenes that popped in my head late at night when I tried to sleep.

Nightmares are awesome.

I had the same reaction many of my fellow film-goers did that summer: I refused to go anywhere near any water. Even pools were suspect. Toilets and baths were (barely) okay.  But even though I was obviously terrified of the movie, I also was completely obsessed with it. I bought The Jaws Log, by screenwriter Carl Gottleib, which told the behind-the-scenes story of the making of the film. I continually drew pictures of the bloodiest scenes. And I saw the movie again.  It was as if Jaws had abused me and I was working my way through therapy.

It’s hard to believe Stephen Spielberg was only 28 when he made Jaws. It’s also hard to believe this was only his 2nd theatrical film (okay, 3rd if you count the TV movie Duel).  Even at this early stage in his career he had an amazing command of the frame, a very cinematic eye that only got better and better with every film he made.  The more I studied the movie, the more impressed I was by it. There’s a scene on the beach which is one of my favorites. Chief Brody is watching the horizon, scanning for trouble, while the beach is crowded with people enjoying the day. A person walks in front of the camera, and the camera cuts to a closer shot of Brody’s worried face. Another person passes, another closer cut to his face. Another person, another closer cut. It’s a beautiful way to remind us of the crowd at the beach, while at the same time showing Brody’s focused attention.

In my humble opinion, Jaws is almost a perfect film.  There are some very funny parts to the movie (a nice counterpoint to the scares), but it never feels forced, it always flows naturally as an extension of the characters themselves.  The scene at dinner with Brody’s younger son mimicking his exhausted father is a great example of this, where the love they have for each other comes through from their silent interactions.

It also has one of the most quotable lines in movie history: “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”  It’s one of the best tension release moments I’ve ever seen, and happily the movie is filled with little bits like this: Quint and Hooper crumpling cans/cups at each other, the two kids with the fake shark fin, Hooper suggesting they let the wine breathe. Terrific scenes that say so much by saying so little.

If you haven’t seen it in a while, you owe it to yourself to watch it again. Pop some popcorn, shut the computer off, and just let it work its magic on you…its hungry, sharp-toothed, eating machine magic.

And if you’ve never seen it before, well, just take Mayor Vaughn’s word for it:

“But, as you see, it’s a beautiful day, the beaches are open and people are having a wonderful time. Amity, as you know, means friendship.”

Happy 4th of July, everybody.