A Day Etched in Memory
My Sixth Birthday and a Purple Bicycle
The date June 20, 1975, remains etched in my memory for two compelling reasons. Firstly, it marked my sixth birthday. I can vividly recall the gifts I received that year: a sleek, three-speed bicycle and a sealed box of Topps baseball cards.
The bike was purple—a color I would have never chosen. The baseball cards, however, proved to be a treasure trove. I still remember the final card in the last pack I opened. It was a legendary rookie card of my favorite player, Fred Lynn, who would later earn both Rookie of the Year and MVP honors that same year.
A Birthday Night at the Movies
The second reason this day is unforgettable? After finishing the last slices of my Carvel ice cream cake, my family went to see a new film—Jaws, on its opening day. I was just six years old.
I still see that long line of teenagers snaking around the block at Dedham’s Showcase Cinemas in Massachusetts. The film had only been out for hours, but word had already spread. It was the movie to see.
I remember the poster clearly: a massive Great White shark, mouth open wide, inches from an oblivious swimmer. The marquee blared “J-A-W-S” in bold, blood-red letters. Even the teenage usher eyed my parents suspiciously as he tore our tickets, perhaps hinting at the film’s intensity.
Jaws: The Movie That Changed Everything
The Terrifying Magic of That First Viewing
As the lights dimmed, my excitement turned to nervousness. I can still feel my heart pounding when the young girl swam alone into the ocean. That iconic two-note theme—da-duh…da-duh—started to play.
I instinctively covered my eyes when the shark attacked, but the screams from the screen still reached me. I made it through to the end, though much of the time my eyes were shut tight.
Still, that night changed everything. Watching Jaws became a rite of passage. It sparked a lifelong fascination with suspense and primal fear—a love that has lasted nearly fifty years.
The Summer That Followed
A week later, my family rented a cottage in Scituate, just two blocks from the ocean. Looking back, I now see that trip as my parents’ final attempt to save their marriage. My mom hoped for peace: sunscreen, beach days, Kodak memories.
But I never entered the water. The trauma from Jaws stayed with me. I wouldn’t go near the ocean, avoided swimming pools, and even feared bathtubs. I was convinced the shark could come up through the drain, just like it attacked the girl on the raft.
I worried it would get my dog, Pipit, who disappeared mid-fetch in the film. Even Quint, the tough shark hunter, was no match in the end. He was devoured in gruesome fashion. That summer, I even avoided showers. I considered them too risky.
Jaws Behind the Scenes
A Young Director Under Pressure
Years later, I learned how difficult the film’s production had been. Director Steven Spielberg, just 27 at the time, nearly had a nervous breakdown. The mechanical shark—nicknamed “Bruce”—barely worked. It often sank to the ocean floor.
The budget ballooned from $3.5 million to nearly $9 million. Filming ran so far behind schedule that Universal considered firing Spielberg. Actor Robert Shaw was often drunk on set and couldn’t deliver his famous USS Indianapolis speech on time.
Roy Scheider only joined after bumping into Spielberg at a party. Richard Dreyfuss initially declined the role of Hooper, then begged for it after a bad screening of his previous film. I devoured these stories in books like The Jaws Log by Carl Gottlieb.
The Birth of the Blockbuster
When Jaws opened, it shattered records. Universal released it on 465 screens, a groundbreaking number at the time. It grossed $7 million that weekend and reached nearly $50 million within a month. Ultimately, it earned over $260 million.
Many consider Jaws the first true summer blockbuster. It changed how studios marketed and released films. Some argue it marked the end of the New Hollywood era—an auteur-driven movement—but I see Jaws as a perfect fit within that tradition.
Legacy, Influence, and Personal Connection
Critical Recognition Over Time
At first, critics dismissed Jaws as a popcorn movie. Its popularity overshadowed its artistry. But over time, its impact became undeniable.
It spawned dozens of imitators—Piranha, Orca, Tentacles, and more. Many were low-budget rip-offs filled with cheesy effects and gratuitous nudity. Some, like the Italian film Great White, were so blatant that Universal sued to stop their U.S. release.
The Jaws sequels were less inspired. I searched mom-and-pop video stores for them, hoping to recapture the thrill. But that magic proved elusive.
My All-Time Favorite
As a film critic, I’m often asked about my favorite movie. I usually name classics like The Rules of the Game or Jeanne Dielman. But honestly, my heart belongs to Jaws.
It remains my all-time favorite. I hope one day my children come to love it, too. My memories are as vivid as the haunting tune Quint sings: “Farewell and Adieu to You Fair Spanish Ladies.” Even now, that two-note theme still chills me.
A Lost Treasure
Sadly, my beloved Fred Lynn rookie card was lost during spring cleaning long ago. My mother unknowingly threw it out. I recently checked eBay. That same card now sells for $7,500—proof that some childhood treasures only grow more valuable with time.
