JAWS: THE ULTIMATE FEEL-GOOD FRIGHTENER
The year is 1976 and I’m movie-mad 6 year old standing at the gates of Universal Studios. I can’t quite believe it, I’m actually here. My family travelled a very long way - from the UK to the Eastern Seaboard and then cross-country in a station wagon. And now here we were, in California! My dad asked us if we wanted to go to Disneyland or Universal.
Disneyland? Really?
Needless to say we voted unanimously for Universal.
Many years later, just before he died, my dad told me that he might have ‘engineered’ the outcome slightly but what did I care? I was going to visit the place they made all those old monster movies! And The Rockford Files!
The tourist tram trundled past the Bates Motel, waited for some guy dressed as Charlton Heston in a Moses outfit to part the Red Sea (using a couple of massive sheets of toughened glass - surprisingly impressive), dodged an unconvincing ‘rock slide’ (watch out for that polystyrene!) and had a go on the Six Million Dollar Man special effects set (lifted a Chevy van - totally awesome.)
Then we came round a corner and there was just this dull little small pond…
The driver did what was probably his hundredth ‘Oh my gosh, watch out folks!’ announcement of the day, telling us it was imperative we keep our ‘hands and feet inside the tram’ as ‘things might get a bit dicey up ahead’.
And then all hell broke loose.
A guttural scream echoed over the loudspeaker system and a department store mannequin in a rowing boat suddenly got dragged under water, then mere moments later was transformed into fountain of claret containing more blood and guts than could possibly have come from even the most freakishly big human. The geyser of gore spewing up into the air in a mighty impressive arc, missing my little face by what seemed like only millimetres. Even though my young brain cynically suspected this to be nothing more than a bucket of red paint shot out of a fire hose, it made quite the impression.
Then, before anyone could suggest we do anything like get a bigger boat, a nearby jetty was yanked free from its moorings and vanished under into the murky green waters.
Finally, just in case we hadn’t guessed what was happening, a big rubbery shark came leering up at us from the ‘depths’, his improbable dentures the size of carving knives waving and flapping about like 4th July bunting in the soft California breeze.
It was brilliantly gaudy and over the top - and it was at this precise moment that I fell in love with Jaws.
When we returned to England the following year I demanded to visit the local cinema to see the movie.
It was an ‘A’ certificate - this was a big deal.
My mum wasn’t sure, wouldn’t it be too scary?
My dad figured I knew it was all just special effects, what was the harm? And so later that week we filed into the ABC Cinema in Bournemouth and watched Jaws. I was utterly spellbound.And terrified, obviously - I was still only about 7. But really my overriding feeling was not horror or shock, it was… ‘coziness’.
Growing up by the sea gives you a healthy respect for any nasties lurking beneath the waves and I spent a good deal of my childhood mucking about in the water. I didn’t sit by the shore singing ‘The Muffin Man’ but Bournemouth beach and its surrounding areas (especially Christchurch) do bear more than a few similarities with dear old Amity. There’s sand dunes and beach huts, tumbledown jetties, day sailors and fishing boats crewed by genuinely salty old sea dogs and its all rather delightful - just like its fictional American cousin.
And because of all this, Jaws has never been just a ‘creature feature’ for me, it’s a warm, fuzzy celebration of coastal life. I currently live in London but have promised that one day I’ll make the permanent move back home. And whenever I watch Jaws, I feel it even more strongly.
Spielberg’s masterpiece reassures and cossets me. It wraps me in a nostalgic blanket and reminds me times when, for a little while at least, days seemed carefree and easy-going.
Steven Spielberg cites John Williams as 50% of the reason why Jaws did so well - and who could argue? Now, I know the scary ‘duhhh-DUM’ is what most people think of, but for me it’s the cheerful, twinkly and heroic (‘PROMENADE’, ‘OUT TO SEA’ & ‘ONE BARREL CHASE’) segments are just as incredible. And the ‘END TITLE’ piece is so soft and tranquil, that piccolo refrain that melts into the strings and then the French horns is achingly beautiful.
No doubt about it, Jaws is my feel-good movie.
It pulls me away from the grimy memories I often have of 1970s England and reminds me of the good times. Hot sand under my feet, fishing off the pier with my best friend, the smell of salt and pines on the breeze and summer barbecues at sunset - basically all the best bits of my childhood.
Mind you, doesn’t mean I’d go swimming when the sun went down - cuz you never know…
Words by Tim Armitage
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