Jaws Euphemism

Distinctly unlike To the Lighthouse, Steven Spielberg’s Jaws portrays the ocean as the dangerous home of a terrifying predator, and entering the sea as a death sentence. Despite the film’s nature as a thriller film, the deaths that occur in the water hold a deeper meaning, and relations to the lives of the deceased. Chrissie Watkins, the first victim, dies drunk, while skinny dipping. The entire sequence, from the nudity to Cassidy’s “I’m coming… I’m coming” exists as a euphemism for sex, and the death of Chrissie punishes her for engaging in such behavior (Jaws). Quint’s death also reveals his true character to the audience, by reducing his life to its simplest truths. Although Quint dies fighting the killer shark, ultimately his death feels

“Martin hates the boats. Martin hates water:” Martin’s fear of water is established early, and often crops up during his voyage throughout the film (Jaws). However, by the end of the film, he tells Hooper that he “used to hate the water,” in the past tense (Jaws). Brody confronts his fear through journeying out into the water and fighting off the killer shark. However, such an experience would make most people more afraid. Even Hooper’s response, “Can’t imagine why,” implies a growing dislike of water for him, an oceanographer (Jaws). Brody’s time in the water acts as his rebirth, while Hooper’s does not. Because he was willing to face his fears and get on the boat for the benefit of the town, Brody can be reborn, unafraid. Hooper’s constant complaints about his time on the boat, his selfishness, his general lack of action, all contribute to make him unready for a rebirth. The contrast between Brody and Hooper at the conclusion of the film highlights the importance of a character accepting their situation and being ready for rebirth when they pass through water in literature. Jaws presents connections to both the death and rebirth aspects of water’s symbolism through the various victims and survivors of the shark, presenting a deeper meaning to the classic movie that invented the summer

Water, even in relation to death, has an inescapable connection to life. A massively destructive storm, even one such as the biblical flood, has new life emerge after its conclusion. In good literature at least, characters never simply drown. Drowning, while tragic, leads to some sort of change for a character, or leaves a new meaning of their life to the ones they left behind. Even among the gory deaths of Jaws, the deaths have symbolic meanings beyond that of simple bloodfests. For Edna Pontellier of The Awakening, drowning serves as her only way to escape the miserable, oppressive life she lives. And for the Ramsay family of To the Lighthouse, the water maintains the memory of the departed matron, and helps to complete the character arcs of the remaining family members. Water covers more than seventy percent of the Earth, yet remains largely unexplored and mysterious. Water also holds untold dangers to humans, one of the few environments where they are not the apex predator. At the same time, all life requires water nearly constantly for survival, including human life. As a consequence of these two seemingly oxymoronic connotations of water, it exists as a exceedingly complex and multifaceted symbol in literature. Despite Dr. Foster’s claim, water does not have to be baptism at all. It can be a rebirth, a death, or even just a splash in the face. Only one certainty exists with water: