‘Jaws’ Through the Terrified Eyes of an 11 Year Old 70s Kid

Jaws is 50, I was 11 and you can’t know what it was like. So here’s a firsthand account.

Of course, before Jaws, there was a book. A runaway bestseller, with the gray, silver beast ascending, we were sold.

The naked lady didn’t hurt either, and in tandem, I dove in. “The great fish moved silently through the night water, propelled by short sweeps of its crescent tail.”

I was hooked.

As for the rest at 11, I missed plenty but not the climax. Exhausted by three barrels, the fish succumbs just before reaching Brody.

Pretty anticlimactic, we weren’t worried. Then the movie arrived. In a country of 190 million people (over the age of five), 126 million checked in. So that summer, you saw it, you were waiting to see or you were dreading to see it.

I was the latter, and when my father pulled the trigger, it was like willingly attending your own firing squad. John Williams firing the first bullets, the ocean floor opening has escaped my memory.

On the other hand, Susan Backlinie’s smile at Jonathan Filley stuck. “That look is going to get her killed.”

Deep into the surf, how could she do something so silly in a movie called Jaws. Thrashed about, not seeing the shark was no relief and neither was my exhale. “I got two more hours of this.”

Roy Scheider confirmed. Under cause of death, the keys slam down, S-H-A-R-K A-T-T-A-C-K. Jarring because we know it’s a shark movie but the chief of police doesn’t. So maybe we’re getting right down to business, and he can stop the bleeding.

No such luck, the mayor makes sure, and stupidity left me and my kind as the next victim. Alex Kittner, we all had that yellow, blue raft and denial wasn’t possible. In other words, we didn’t need John Williams to signal the oncoming gut punch.

A gasp and a glimpse didn’t soften the blow, and the washed up raft officially deflated our summers.

The mayor again does us no favors and stubbornly prolongs the agony by keeping the beaches open. Can I go home dad, the arrival of Quint was not the father figure we wanted either.

On the contrary, Quint’s introduction realized one of our greatest fears. We had blackboards and our worst nightmare occurred when some jerk of a classmate recklessly applied his nails. Quint filled the bill, and just like school, we were all going down with the ship.

Fortunately, Matt Hooper seemed a welcome reprieve. His scientific intellect played counter to the mayoral stupidity and made us think someone could outsmart this shark into another movie.

Not so fast, his boyish exuberance and fearless curiosity kept him from even knowing the time of day. “If we're going to look for a shark, we can’t look on the land,” he informs Brody of the night feeder.

Damn fool, haven’t we been here before? He descends, and remember, this was long before the fast forward button.

Yes, my eyes close, but not long enough to miss the main event. Ben Gardner’s hideous head pops out, the tooth drops, and more stupidity rears its ugly head.

The mayor again, he wants evidence. No problem, a trip to the bottom of the ocean should have been next.

Already over budget, I was resigned to the shortfall and actually took the side of the grownups when our attention is directed to the vandalized sign.

Not sure about kids today but we all damaged stuff to see who could one up the other guy. No matter, I wholly agreed. “They should be hung up by their buster browns.”

Shoes for you beginners, flip flops put us on the beach again, and finally we see the shark.

In the pond, Brody breaks wind, and when his wife does too, she was our mom. Fear yes but the way Ellen grabs her side screams 70s mom. They worked part or full time, came home and took care of us. But they haven’t broken into a trot since playing tag in elementary school.

Another 11 year old is obviously doomed. Mercy, an old guy steps in. Not much help, the shark is huge, real and terrifying. I remember pushing myself back in my seat to get as long a view as possible, while maximizing the distance between me and Bruce.

Then universes collide. Brody, Hooper and Quint, who will win out. A titanic struggle between the reluctant hero, the educated adventurer, and the shark hunter who takes this battle between man and fish personally.

Above water we all win and even get some humor. Beer can versus styrofoam cup, the comedy incisors probably get a little lost today.

Cans were made of tinplate steel, and Quint’s muscle wasn’t insignificant. Taking the cue, Hopper crushes the scene with his squeeze, and shows that brains can beat brawn.

So maybe Hooper’s good sense will gain the upper hand. Sorry, Quint still dominates, and I’m going to pay dearly.

But first, Brody offers the path of least resistance. “I think you’re going to need a bigger boat.”

The unscripted line, a brain like ours has finally emerged. A 75 foot coast guard vehicle sounded right, but a naval destroyer sounded more appropriate.

A little older, I probably would have seen the absurdity. Instead, I still can’t backtrack. Brody is still completely on point, and that will never change.

Quint was the captain, though, and his sense of honor demanded no rules changes. But at least Brody was there to offset the divergent lunacy of his two mates and gave voice to my powerless plea for sanity.

“Scale my ass,” he shuts down Hooper.

Night falls, the two titans finally find common ground. Mary Ellen Moffit, I might get out of this alive.

Unfortunately, a removed tattoo signals a sea change. “I’ll never put on another life jacket.”

Wow, Wow, Wow, personal is an understatement, and the unhinged course resets.

Off the rails, Quint goes all or nothing. Still, the shark’s heart might give out before the Orca’s ball bearings do. In denial for as long as possible, the finish line wasn’t even close, and we were sunk.

The shark cage remaining, I knew better, and my eyes were not standing for this. Of course, I was no Indiana Jones. Peaks had to be snuck, and when Hooper loses the needle, my eyelids continued to flutter.

The shark, and Hooper evading, I eventually see his scurry to the bottom. How the oceanographer is going to go unscathed to shore is quickly put aside.

Bruce takes flight, and given the beast’s own personal feelings, there’s nothing out of the ordinary here. The momentum also wipes out any chance to consider whether such lunacy would ever happen.

And worse yet, my ears don’t have lids. The high pitched scream, I finally see the blood spurt out of Quint’s mouth. Not done, the first course doesn’t take long, and the monstrosity quickly returns.

No time to defibrillate, Brody’s was next for the mechanical vice, and we certainly didn’t ponder what the heck was wrong with our parents.

Then the tank floats by, and into Bruce’s mouth, we might just get a mind blowing finale. Blow up, blow up - you ain’t kidding.

“Smile you son of a bitch,” I was lifted out of my seat, and Roy Scheider was forever my hero.

Still 11, though, I wasn’t done. Hooper’s going to rise, and Brody is going to shoot him. My fears were unfounded, but there was still one more hurdle. The kick back could still have sharks in between.

Home safe, I wasn’t so lucky. My raft was grounded, and all the oceanside adventures of my youth were forever changed.

Long since grown, I still can’t forget, and if I have the chance to go to the beach, I pass. Tragic but the once in a lifetime experience of Jaws easily makes up for any lost splashes.