Hooper Drives The Boat, Chief: Revisiting Jaws at 50

Jaws (1975)
Directed by Steven Spielberg
Starring Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, Richard Dreyfuss, Lorraine Gary, Murray Hamilton
Genre: Drama, Horror

Much has already been written about Steven Spielberg’s monster movie masterpiece Jaws—so much, in fact, that revisiting it might seem like a futile exercise. After all, the story is familiar to just about everyone: a massive, almost mythic great white shark turns the beaches of Amity Island into its personal buffet, snacking on swimmers and boaters with impunity. Like other cinematic landmarks—Rear Window and 2001: A Space Odyssey come to mind—Jaws has been endlessly dissected. And yet, one mark of a truly great film is that it reveals something new with every viewing. Jaws is one of those rare films.

Spielberg has famously said that half a director’s job is casting—and Jaws proves him right. The performances are pitch-perfect. Roy Scheider anchors the film as Police Chief Brody, while Richard Dreyfuss, fresh from American Graffiti, is spot-on as the nerdy oceanographer Matt Hooper. Spielberg originally sought out Sterling Hayden and Lee Marvin for the role of Quint, but when they passed, he turned to Robert Shaw—and struck gold. Shaw’s performance is iconic, a perfect blend of menace and rugged charisma.

Jaws is often remembered for its explosive third act—the ultimate showdown of man versus beast—but for my money, the film’s first act is its most compelling. It’s not just a setup for the blood-soaked climax; it’s a gripping morality play in its own right. Here, Spielberg stages a quiet but powerful conflict between public safety and economic self-interest—an idea that still feels eerily relevant today. Whether this was intended by Peter Benchley, the book’s author and co-writer of the screenplay, or a happy accident of interpretation, it resonates.

The mayor of Amity, driven by a single motive—profit—insists the beaches remain open despite mounting evidence of a deadly predator offshore. After the Fourth of July erupts into chaos and carnage, Brody confronts him: “Larry, the summer is over. You’re the mayor of Shark City!” To which Larry, cigarette trembling, mutters, “I was acting in the town’s best interest.” Spielberg crafts a subtle but powerful battle of values: profit versus protection, denial versus responsibility.

Of course, the film’s second half brings in what most people love best: the salty, shark-hunting sea dog, Quint. He famously introduces himself by dragging his fingernails down a chalkboard to silence a town meeting. He’s brash and blunt: “Y’all know me. Know how I earn a livin’. I’ll catch this bird for you, but it ain’t gonna be easy.” Quint is a relic of old Hollywood—larger than life, a bit of a caricature—but his clash with the intellectual Hooper creates an electric dynamic. Their banter, filled with bravado, booze, and biting humor, is cinematic gold.

Behind the scenes, Jaws was famously plagued with production nightmares—chief among them, the mechanical sharks that barely worked. Spielberg was forced to improvise, keeping the shark hidden for much of the film, which ironically amplified the suspense. The result was a taut, edge-of-your-seat thriller that proved less is often more.

Jaws remains one of the most entertaining films ever made. From John Williams’ instantly recognizable, dread-soaked score to its perfect casting and masterful pacing, it's no exaggeration to say Jaws helped invent the modern summer blockbuster—alongside Star Wars. And while Spielberg has directed many brilliant films since, Jaws is still his finest achievement. It’s not even close.

Decades later, Jaws is still a heart-pounding thrill ride—scarier, smarter, and more enduring than many give it credit for. For me, it’s the It’s a Wonderful Life of the Fourth of July: a timeless classic that deserves an annual viewing. But just remember: "You yell barracuda, everybody says, "Huh? What?" You yell shark, we've got a panic on our hands on the Fourth of July."