Jaws & The Male Road Trip

On today’s episode we’ll be taking a deep dive…literally, into the waters just off the shore of Amity Island. Men, saddle up. We’re going on a road trip…using water.

Jaws is the heartwarming tale of a small-town beach community that learns the hard way that maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t ignore a giant, man-eating shark just because you don’t want to hurt summer tourism.

When a few unfortunate swimmers become human sushi, Chief Brody (who hates the water, by the way) tries to shut things down, but the greedy mayor, rocking his finest anchor-patterned suit, insists everything is just fine. Spoiler: It is not fine.

Enter Quint, the grizzled, slightly unhinged shark hunter with a death wish, and Hooper, the nerdy rich kid scientist who actually knows what he’s doing.

Along with Brody, they set sail on the Orca, a boat that is clearly too small for this mission yet not quite a dinghy. What follows is part survival thriller, part male bonding experience, and part absolute disaster. Quint sings sea shanties, Hooper brings fancy gadgets, and Brody mostly just regrets every decision that led him here. After much destruction, yelling, and one particularly gruesome death, Brody finally blows up the shark with a well-placed bullet and a conveniently explosive oxygen tank. Moral of the story? Always listen to the guy who says, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

And now for the Film Five: 5 behind the scenes tidbits you should know about the making of this JAWS.

1. Robert Shaw Was at War With… the IRS – Quint’s gruff, no-nonsense demeanor wasn’t just acting—Robert Shaw was dealing with real-life stress during filming. He was having serious tax issues with the IRS, which meant he had to leave the U.S. immediately after shooting his scenes or risk financial ruin. This led to a hectic filming schedule for his character, and at times, he was literally finishing a take and hopping on a plane out of the country.

2. The Famous Indianapolis Speech Was a Mess Before It Was Iconic – Quint’s haunting USS Indianapolis monologue is one of the most famous scenes in film history, but getting there was a disaster. The script went through multiple rewrites (some of which were done by Jaws author Peter Benchley, others by uncredited screenwriter Howard Sackler). Robert Shaw, a skilled writer himself, reworked the speech and initially tried performing it while very drunk—he begged Spielberg to let him do another take the next day when he was sober. The sober version is the one in the final cut.

3. Spielberg Used a man of diminutive size (aka a little person, if that’s still acceptable) for close up shots: – While “Bruce” (the mechanical shark) was famously unreliable, Spielberg still needed realistic footage of a great white. He sent a small crew to Australia, where real sharks were filmed attacking a tiny, empty cage to create the illusion of a massive shark attacking Hooper’s cage. The problem? The shark they used was much smaller than Bruce. To compensate, they put a little person in a miniature cage to make the shark look bigger.

4. Quint’s Death Was Originally Much More Gruesome – Quint’s brutal demise in the jaws of the shark is already disturbing, but Spielberg actually toned it down. Early storyboards showed the shark chomping him in half while he screamed in agony. The version in the film is still violent, but Spielberg adjusted it to be just restrained enough for audiences to handle—though it still traumatized plenty of viewers.

5. The Crew Once Tied the Shark to a Boat… and It Sank – The mechanical shark had constant issues, but at one point, the crew decided to anchor it to a small boat for a test run. It went horribly wrong when the weight of the shark pulled the boat under, sending expensive equipment and several panicked crew members into the water. The crew joked that the mechanical shark was “out for revenge” long before Jaws: The Revenge.

When you think of Jaws I’m sure there’s a lot of thoughts (or sounds) that race through your mind. The shark, the soundtrack, the performances and maybe even that scene where Michael Brody is treading water in fear while his little brother Sean watches from the sand, crying out for help.

Jaws remains, to this day, more than just the first blockbuster ever released in cinemas. It’s an immersive experience that transcends time and space to tell a story that, at once, has been told for well over a thousand years but has been presented here so pitch perfectly that it resonated with audiences in 1975 and audiences today. The shark in the film may have been a 20 footer (25 if you’re asking quint) but the film is far bigger than that and has outlived itself many times over.

Jaws is, and always will be, the reason this boy who was born in Virginia Beach refused to swim in the ocean. Images so powerful and meaningful to me that they could make me even fear the water in a swimming pool deep end while also appreciating the camaraderie of the three ment on the Orca.

It should be stated that I saw Jaws 2 as a young boy before I saw the original. A big fan of giant, empty boxes like most kids that age I had the pleasure of having a shortened refrigerator box in my room in front of my little tube TV. One evening, as my father entertained the Youth Group at church watching the final episode of the mini-series V, I stood inside that box and watched the television version of Jaws 2 as if I was one of the men on the Orca myself. Along for the ride and not knowing what would happen. That ignited within me a fascination of sharks, a love of a good monster movie and an appreciation for cinema. Yes, Jaws 2 (the lesser revered film in the franchise) was my gateway drug into cinema. In all fairness though, King Kong was truly my first introduction to monster movies…that and Godzilla.

When I saw Jaws a little later on it was clear what I had missed. But you know what I hadn’t missed? Roy Schieder. I would go on, eventually, to see him in The French Connection and many other films where he anchored (no pun intended) the on screen action. Even starring in Seaquest DSV years later he was my draw to watch. Big or small screen Mr. Scheider’s performances were like magnets no matter the material that surrounded him.

Brody was, in a way, the man I would become to some degree. Fearful of the unknown, willing to take a beating until he finally blew his lid and a father that looked at his kids in a way that made you understand, they brought him joy that no one else seemed to be able to. His relationship with his wife, to me, was very realistic. And in those little moments where he and Lorraine Gary’s character flirted like newlyweds and had their own little in-jokes it gave me a sense of what I would want in my marriage in the future (and, in fact, have with my wife today). The imperfect trying to be perfect to help others but eventually being forced out of his shell to truly do something important for his family and their safety…and his community. That is a hero and the kind of man, woman or kid character I love to follow on the big screen.

I love to follow in just about any story.

But what makes that man tick and, more specifically, how does that man branch out, break free and come into his own?

The concept of the male road trip is deeply embedded in American culture, serving as a rite of passage, a test of endurance, and a means of self-discovery. This tradition, often portrayed in literature and film, revolves around camaraderie, adventure, and confrontation with external and internal challenges. The second half of Jaws (1975), directed by Steven Spielberg, exemplifies many aspects of this tradition, albeit in a maritime setting rather than on the open road. The film’s shift from a land-based thriller to an oceanic survival story mirrors the structure of a classic male road trip narrative, where a group of men embarks on a journey fraught with obstacles, bonding through shared experiences and confronting primal fears. Through its themes of masculinity, survival, and camaraderie, the latter half of Jaws reinforces the significance of the male road trip as a test of both physical and psychological limits.

The male road trip is often depicted as an escape from civilization, where men can test their resilience, navigate uncharted territory, and redefine their sense of self. Classic examples include On the Road by Jack Kerouac and films like Easy Rider (1969) and Planes, Trains & Automobiles (1987). These journeys typically involve a group of men—or sometimes just two—who embark on an adventure that strips away the comforts of domestic life, replacing them with unpredictable dangers and moments of revelation. In such narratives, the road (or ocean, in the case of Jaws) becomes a metaphor for personal growth, forcing the characters to confront their weaknesses and develop a deeper understanding of themselves and each other.

Another crucial element of the male road trip is the interplay between different personalities. Often, these characters have conflicting worldviews and must learn to cooperate in order to survive. The journey tests their ability to work together, emphasizing themes of brotherhood, leadership, and endurance. At its core, this tradition reflects a longing for adventure and an exploration of what it means to be a man in the face of nature’s vast and indifferent forces.

It is important for men to get away and bond with other men because these experiences provide a space for camaraderie, self-reflection, and emotional support in ways that are often unique to male friendships. In many cultures, men are encouraged to be self-reliant and reserved about their emotions, but spending time together in an environment free from daily responsibilities allows them to open up, share experiences, and reinforce their sense of identity. Whether through road trips, outdoor adventures, or shared hobbies, these moments foster deep connections, build trust, and offer a break from societal pressures. Engaging in activities together—whether problem-solving, competing, or simply relaxing—creates an unspoken bond that strengthens friendships and provides mental and emotional benefits.

This need for male bonding is not a slight against women, as women also have their own ways of connecting that serve similar purposes. Just as women’s retreats, girls’ nights, or shared experiences provide a space for them to recharge, support one another, and strengthen friendships, men benefit from their own version of this camaraderie. These experiences are not about exclusion or division but rather about the unique ways each gender processes emotions, builds relationships, and navigates the world. Encouraging these separate but equally important forms of bonding strengthens relationships overall, as they allow individuals to return to their partners, families, and friends with a renewed sense of self and a deeper appreciation for their connections.

Although Jaws is commonly regarded as a horror-thriller about a killer shark, the second half of the film takes on the structure of a traditional male road trip. The film’s shift from land to sea isolates its three main characters—Chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider), Quint (Robert Shaw), and Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss)—forcing them to rely on each other as they hunt the great white shark terrorizing Amity Island. Once they set sail on Quint’s boat, the Orca, the film transforms into a masculine odyssey, mirroring the elements of a road trip through its emphasis on survival, conflict, and transformation.

Each character represents a different archetype of masculinity. Quint is the hardened, working-class veteran, embodying an old-school, rugged individualism. His experience as a shark hunter and his harrowing tale of surviving the USS Indianapolis disaster define him as a man shaped by the brutal realities of nature and war. Hooper, by contrast, represents intellectualism and modernity—his reliance on science and technology clashes with Quint’s instinct-driven approach. Brody, the film’s everyman protagonist, stands between these two extremes. As an outsider to both the sea and the world of shark hunting, he represents the audience’s perspective, learning to navigate the treacherous waters both literally and metaphorically.

The journey on the Orca mirrors the structure of a road trip by presenting a series of escalating challenges. The men must first track the shark, then attempt to wound it, and ultimately engage in a desperate battle for survival. As in many classic road trip stories, the characters grow through their experiences, forging bonds despite their differences. Quint and Hooper, initially at odds, develop a begrudging respect for one another, particularly after Quint’s haunting monologue about the Indianapolis sinking. Brody, who begins the journey as a landlocked policeman with no real understanding of the ocean, is forced to overcome his fears and ultimately take charge when both Quint and Hooper are incapacitated.

The male road trip often serves as a crucible for testing masculinity, and Jaws is no exception. The film’s climax sees Brody, the least experienced of the three men, assuming the hero’s role. This transformation aligns with the archetypal road trip arc, in which the protagonist must prove himself through action. His final confrontation with the shark—using his wits rather than brute strength—suggests a nuanced take on masculinity, one that values intelligence and adaptability over sheer force.

Quint, in contrast, represents a more traditional, fatalistic view of masculinity. His refusal to acknowledge the limits of his strength ultimately leads to his demise, as he underestimates the shark and pushes the Orca beyond its capabilities. His death serves as both a tragic end and a lesson, reinforcing the idea that survival requires more than just toughness—it demands strategic thinking and an acceptance of vulnerability. Hooper, the film’s most cerebral character, survives not by overpowering the shark but by using his knowledge and technology. Together, these arcs present a layered exploration of masculinity, moving beyond the simplistic notion of strength as the ultimate virtue.

Quint represents real men because he embodies the raw, unfiltered essence of masculinity—tough, skilled, and unapologetically himself. He is not polished or politically correct, nor does he care about fitting into society’s expectations. Instead, he is a man forged by experience, having survived the horrors of war and built his life on sheer grit and determination. Unlike modern portrayals of sanitized, emotionally articulate male heroes, Quint is rough around the edges, speaks his mind without a filter, and operates by his own code. His skill as a shark hunter is not the result of formal education but hard-earned knowledge gained through years of dangerous, hands-on work. He may not be warm or diplomatic, but he is undeniably competent, which is a trait that many real men, especially those in physically demanding or high-risk professions, can relate to.

Despite his lack of tact and sensitivity, Quint’s character reflects the deep, unspoken emotions that many men carry but rarely express outright. His famous USS Indianapolis speech reveals the hidden scars of his past—rather than openly discussing his trauma, he shares it in a chilling, matter-of-fact way, masking pain with bravado. This kind of emotional repression is something many men, especially from older generations, are familiar with. He also values respect and camaraderie, though he may not always show it in a conventional way. His relationship with Hooper starts off antagonistic, but as the journey progresses, a mutual respect forms between them, proving that his gruffness is not rooted in malice but in a hardened worldview shaped by survival. Quint may be brash and difficult, but he is a man who gets the job done, faces danger head-on, and represents an era of masculinity built on action rather than words.

The latter half of Jaws functions as a maritime version of the classic male road trip, incorporating themes of adventure, camaraderie, and survival. The film’s three protagonists embark on a perilous journey that tests their resilience and forces them to confront their fears. Through their interactions, Spielberg explores different facets of masculinity, illustrating the tensions between brute force, intellect, and adaptability. Brody’s transformation from a reluctant participant to a decisive leader echoes the trajectory of many road trip narratives, where the journey itself becomes a vehicle for self-discovery.

Ultimately, Jaws transcends its horror-thriller roots to offer a profound meditation on human nature and survival. The male road trip, whether on land or sea, serves as a means of reckoning with the unknown, forcing its participants to evolve. In this sense, Jaws not only delivers a gripping story of man versus nature but also reinforces the enduring significance of the road trip as a framework for personal and collective transformation.

In conclusion, when July rolls around and the weather is warm look twice before jumping in the ocean and when something skitters by or brushes your feet while you’re standing in that chilly silt with the waves washing down, run back inside, dry off, grab a can of Ganset beer and enjoy Jaws in the safety of your big screen.

Thank you for listening today. As always, watch films deeper, listen closer and search for a deeper meaning than what’s on the surface. I’ll see you next time.