Spielberg's entrance onto the world's psyche begins with the sharing of a secret. What secret? That there's a monster out there somewhere. A big monster. Ferocious. He then allows us to frustratingly stew, ratcheting up the tension, as nobody onscreen believes it. John Williams aids considerably with his monster's theme music --- we don't have to see him to know that he's there. And so cinema itself was changed forever. Just as Psycho kept people from showering, many's the soul who avoided swimming after watching this. Maybe perfect horror.

Steven Spielberg's classic monster movie is a supremely accomplished slice of popular entertainment and one of my enduring favourites. His directorial expertise shines as he perfectly manipulates the mood of the film aided by John Williams' frankly perfect score. He contrasts the ferocious attacks with their broiling red stained surf and hysterical screaming with the serene peacefulness of the lapping moonlit waves from the very first scene, and uses misdirection and comic asides to engineer a tangible sense of tension as you wait for the shark to appear. Of course, the clunkily mechanical beast that completely fails to recreate the grace of the real animals is easy to criticise, but for the most part Jaws' presence is hinted at through a clever combination of first person camera work, reappearing barrels and Williams' music intercut with real shark footage and it works brilliantly. The characters are also fantastic, particularly during the bonding scene when Quint intensely recounts his experience of the USS Indianapolis, and there are so many wonderfully quotable lines I could probably recite the entire film from beginning to end. Another of the few films that I could never tire of seeing.