50 Years Later, Jaws Is Still the Best Horror Movie — But for Me, It’s a Love Story

By Blake Turck  |  July 9, 2025 | 9:15am
Movies Features JAWS
50 Years Later, Jaws Is Still the Best Horror Movie — But for Me, It’s a Love Story
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The first time my husband, then boyfriend, came to my apartment, he reveled in my DVD collection, singling out the original Last House on the Left and the newly released Blu-ray of Jaws. On one of our earliest sleepovers, we put on the DVD … and actually watched it. Hours into the dark New York night, we were intertwined on the couch, still choosing film commentary over sex. Somehow, it felt more intimate.

When I first saw Jaws at 10 years old, the opening scene mesmerized me. Free-spirited Chrissie flirts with a preppy, blonde, Greenwich Connecticut boy at a bonfire, and takes off down the beach, as her would-be suitor gives chase. “Where are we going?” he drunkenly asks. Her gleeful, ill fated, one-word answer: “Swimming!!”

In most horror films that followed over the decades, the terror of this moonlit tryst would be more overt. Instead, the fear builds in each quiet moment. Chrissie joyfully glides through the water like a mermaid, (in fact, the actress was a stuntwoman, and mermaid performer at the Florida “Weeki Wachee Springs State Park”), unaware of the danger. The famous shot of her long, delicate legs wading beneath the water illustrated the ominous nature of her well-intentioned skinny dip.
Chrissie’s horrifying death from an unseen villain established the summer blockbuster as we know it. Fifty years after that chilling opening, Jaws still deeply affects people. When NBC recently aired it for the movie’s half century anniversary, with an introduction from Steven Spielberg himself, it was the most watched show of the night, seen by more than 3 million people.

As a fearless young girl, I’d venture far out into the ocean, trying to reach where the sky met the sea. Now, at 44, I barely allow the water to go past my chest.
The power of Spielberg’s 1975 classic wasn’t only about stoking fears of the unknown. Later, it felt like a subtle cautionary tale about the dangers of frivolous late night hookups. A reminder that jumping into an abyss–be it an ocean, or relationship–is an act that requires some sensibilities. But I didn’t know then that the film would play a prominent role in my own love story.

That first childhood viewing of Jaws ignited a longtime passion for horror movies, and all the many sub-genres, including shark horror itself. A sect of cinema where bad films (The Requin) and often gloriously bad (Three-Headed Shark Attack) far outweigh the good, like The Shallows or Deep Blue Sea. Yet there’s a comfort to be found in watching even a terrible SYFY shark movie on a rainy day.

It wasn’t only Spielberg’s classic that captivated me as a young cinephile. I continually rewatched Jaws 2 as well–the 1978 slasher-style sequel that gets far less love than deserved. A film whose score–again by John Williams–dare I say, outdoes its more famed predecessor. When TBS played movie marathons of all four movies, I’d watch them in succession. As the end credits of part one morphed into the whimsical harp sounds that open the sequel, I felt a rush of excitement.

Recently, the milestone birthday of Jaws has ushered in a wave of celebratory events across the country. In addition to returning to theaters, and IMAX through Labor Day, Alamo Drafthouse Texas is again hosting their “Jaws on the Water” events all July, for those brave enough to watch the movie while floating in an inner tube. Peacock is also airing the entire series, making me nostalgic for those old, live, TBS Marathons. On July 10, National Geographic will air “Jaws at 50,” a new documentary on the definitive history and making of the iconic film that features new archival footage, and interviews with Spielberg, cast and crew. It explores the famously stressful film shoot, and its influence on cinema and culture over five decades.

Jaws has some of the most dissected scenes in film history, and the anniversary has led to new introspection of the masterpiece. Personally, it’s been a reflection of what the film meant to me growing up.

As a little girl, it fueled my creativity and excitement for experiencing movies. In a recent decluttering session, I stumbled upon a box filled with old books I’d written. Out of the dusty pile emerged a stained cover with stapled side, that read in big red, block letters, Jaws Five: The Real Thing. I’d drawn pages of a story, complete with illustrations of Chief Martin Brody, and a dorsal fin poking out of a vast, blue ocean. Unearthing this art made me nostalgic for my youth and led to the cathartic realization that despite the passage of time, some things we love from childhood never go away.

In 2017, five years after that first, lusty, home viewing of the Jaws Blu-ray, I prepared to marry my soulmate. Since then, we’d watched all four films countless times, and seen Jaws in a theater more than once.

Famous quotes from the movie resonate in popular culture. In 2025, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat” (stated perfectly dryly by Brody) is still repeated and satirized. But it was the smaller lines that were endlessly repeated in my home. On the first day of summer I’d greet my husband in the morning saying Mrs. Taft’s (the local, Karen-esque motel owner)’s most well known line, in my best Amity-inspired accent: “Aaare you going to close the beaches?”

Later, when Ellen Brody asks when she can be considered an islander, Mrs. Taft replies, “Never – You’re not born here, you’re not an islander.” Though I identified with the Brodys–New York City transplants–as a native Manhattanite, her snooty line about Amity Island stuck. I wrote it in journals, scrapbooks, and in a way it came to define my identity as a New Yorker.

The day of my wedding, I stood hidden away from guests, while adrenaline surged through my body. As the music began, my legs floated to the silk-lined path where my soon to be husband stood, waiting to meet me halfway down the aisle. Dun dunn, dunn, dunn, duhh nuhh, duhh nuhh, duh nuh, duh nuh.

The classic tune ushered me in, and everyone chuckled at the reveal that my bridal music wasn’t “Here Comes The Bride,” but John Williams’ masterful Jaws theme. The iconic two notes played–alternating between E to F, and F to F sharp. As the tuba made its penetrating solo entrance, and built to a crescendo, we reached each other, and he cupped his hand in mine.

In the weeks before our big day, those haunting notes of the “main title” song became the soundtrack of my life as I tried to perfectly time my walk. Ironic, perhaps, that I should pick a musical moment so metaphorically gruesome to mark an occasion as special as this one. But it felt right that the movie’s theme should symbolize our union.

Later that year, we got our Goldendoodle puppy and named him Chief Brody. My daughter was born last summer, and for her first Halloween the family dressed up as–what else?–Chief Brody, Quint, Hooper, and the cutest, least-threatening baby shark you’ve ever seen.

Jaws and its music are still synonymous with suspense, but it also encompasses something rare today. A movie spectacular that’s both blockbuster, and thoughtful. Its power lay in its ability to evoke a fear that still feels fresh and elemental. Even after all this time, you can’t avoid thinking about Jaws as you walk into the ocean surf.

For me it’s more than just effective storytelling, and movie-making. It’s a feeling. The movie left an indelible mark on me and revealed a deep affection for horror. Sharing that love with my partner only deepened our bond. The ocean still frightens me. But finding someone that makes you feel loved, and safe makes wading into the dark unknown a little less impossible, or scary.

 
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