A Good Person: Genuine Representations of Addiction

 With a leading cast of Morgan Freeman and Florence Pugh, A Good Person was expected to be an emotional drama, and it did not disappoint. 

This is a genuine story about depression leading to addiction, and how that addiction affects relationships. This particular storyline pulls two people together by a common denominator, or two actually, where both individuals share the tragedy that leads Pugh’s character into addiction, and the addiction itself. 

The basis of this story follows Allison (Pugh), who by a second of distraction on her cellphone, causes an accident that takes the life of her soon to be sister- and brother-in-law. This causes her to break the engagement and spiral into an oxycontin addiction, started by masking her physical pain which turns into masking her emotional pain. When she comes to the realization that she needs help, she attends an AA meeting, one that finds Daniel (Freeman) also in attendance to ensure his recovery from alcoholism continues despite losing his daughter and son-in-law in that same accident. He is also tasked with raising his granddaughter adding to the stress of his situation, threatening his 10 years of sobriety. What ensues is a complicated path to recovery and forgiveness for both of them.

How is this connected to “history” through Hollywood? We are in the midst of “an opioid crisis” and an increase in alcohol abuse resulting from the recent COVID pandemic lockdowns. If we remember in our recent past, the liquor stores were one of the “essential” stores permitted to stay open during the most strict of the lockdowns and many people sought respite in a bottle since we were all left without normal routines or extended human contact. The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism notes, “In 2020, the first year of the pandemic, sales of alcohol increased by 2.9%, the largest annual increase in over 50 years. For those who were drinking more during the pandemic, research suggests that stress, anxiety, and previous alcohol misuse are contributing factors” (NIAA 2022). It makes sense that we would see a film that addresses both, alcoholism and addiction to oxycontin, as well as the consequences of using a cellphone while driving, all products of our current social environments. This is a great example of how film reflects our reality, and this film can be seen 20, or even 50, years from now, and give some insights into depression, addiction, and the lack of available services to help those in need in the 2020s.

The review of A Good Person in the Indie Wire criticizes the film, and specifically Pugh’s character, describing her and her scenes as “cliché.” Kate Erbland writes: “This is a film in which we see Florence Pugh smoke crack with a pair of mean local losers behind a shitty dive bar on a weekday morning, and that’s not even close to being the film’s most cliched incident. (Please hold for the ”I’m throwing your pills down the toilet while you cry and scream” interlude, the frantic digging for pills under the sink trick, even a desperate run to a local pharmacy in hopes of using her waylaid charm to scam a new prescription)” (Erbland 2023). 

I strongly disagree that these portrayals were “cliché.” From my perspective, these scenes seemed very real and raw highlighting just how desperate Allie’s need to feed her addiction had become. Any attempt to dismiss these scenes as “cliché” furthers the very real problem of mental health and addiction in this country. The fact that Alison smoked crack because she couldn’t get a fix any other way, after several attempts to find oxy, shows just how far down the rabbit hole Allison had ventured. In fact, the “two mean locals” forced her to admit her addiction by trading the statement “I’m a junkie” for the much needed fix. This highlights her desperation as well as her self-recognition of what she has become, leading her to the first AA meeting. 

The “I’m throwing your pills down the toilet” is also a genuine portrayal of a loved one trying to help an addict without formally admitting her daughter is an addict. This is a difficult admission for both mother and daughter, but the mother does recognize there is a problem. This is an authentic portrayal of how these relationships become codependent and volatile at the same time. The fact that Allison’s mother then feels guilty for flushing the pills is also representative of codependency and negotiation found in these types of relationships, and the mother then feeds Allison’s addiction by providing oxy “borrowed” from a friend, enabling Allison and unknowingly preventing her from seeking real help.  

As stated, Allison does eventually attend AA, but she shows up high, justifying this by only taking half a pill.  Again, this is a genuine portrayal of how an addict might find a compromise between wanting recovery but needing to feed that addiction at any cost. Dismissing these scenes as “cliché” only furthers the problems we as a society face with addiction because it minimizes addiction generally and dismisses the consequences of addiction more specifically. The  desperation that addiction creates in users is very real. The broken and toxic relationships between addicts and their loved ones is also very real. These should never be dismissed as clichés.

The New York Times review unfortunately misses the point because it is critical of aggrandizing recovery. Brandon Yu dubs the portrayal as “too heavy a hand,” (Yu 2023, C7) criticizing all the problems Allison faces as perhaps over the top. But this again dismisses the dire consequences of addiction on all parties involved. Yu also focuses too much on how many bad things have to happen to Allison in the film, insinuating that this is too far-fetched. But sometimes, and in fact many times, an addict will hit rock bottom several times before seeking real help. Allison’s realization after smoking crack was not her only “rock bottom,” a reflection of reality for addicts.

To Yu’s credit, he does acknowledge that the story should focus on the addiction rather than redemption. Yu writes: “This isn’t to say that A Good Person is disingenuous: Braff wrote the script while wrestling with the deaths of several loved ones in the last few years. But the film would do better understanding that its core sufferings, of mourning and of self-blame, are dramatic enough. Instead it gets lost in raising the stakes to center a big-hearted tale of recovery. The real story is in the quiet moments, where the silence of grief hangs palpably between Allison and Daniel, ever-present and consuming” (Yu 2023, C7). Here Yu may be on to something because the portrayal of the guilt, depression, and addiction and how these issues affect relationships are the point. But we need to know redemption, and recovery, are possible. Otherwise, what would the film be trying to say? Addiction is “horrible” and that is all there is? What kind of a message is that? The film does not minimize the difficulty in getting to recovery resources and in fact shows that sometimes recovery efforts fail, for both Allison and Daniel. Recovery is hard work, but it is possible with the support of a good program. 

And this brings us to the real message of the film – When Allison realizes that AA may not be intense enough for her recovery, she suggests an inpatient program. Her mother reminds her that they are both currently unemployed and neither has insurance, or money, which means an inpatient facility is out of reach – Herein lies the problem. The healthcare situation in our country is broken. Healthcare is out of reach economically for many, and mental health services are even further out of reach for the uninsured and sometimes even for the insured. Mental health services are an afterthought even with medical insurance companies who fail to provide adequate coverage.

Our system is not adequate to help those who want help. The film does highlight this, if only subtly, but this an important detail and should not be overlooked as Braff sends an important message. Perhaps if addiction services were more readily available, Braff would not have lost ones he cared about to this disease.  It is not surprising that Erbland completely misses this point, and this scene. In this scene, Allie tells her mother she went to AA. Erbland admits in her review she did not watch this scene because  she states, “Ali attempts to get clean, only to discover that her local Alcoholics Anonymous meeting (or is it Narcotics Anonymous? it’s never clear, weird for a film about addiction) is also frequented by Daniel (Morgan Freeman)” (Erbland 2023).  Weird for a reviewer to miss such an important detail, but, then again, Erbland missed quite a bit relegating scenes to her idea of “cliches” on drug and alcohol addiction, which tells me she has no experience dealing with the consequences of addiction.

Braff’s film is important and it sends several important messages - the most important is the failure of our healthcare system in general. Perhaps if we had the resources for all of those who are seeking help, our society would not be facing an opioid crisis. These reviews don’t give Braff enough credit for bringing to light a genuine, raw, emotional, and, at times, heartbreaking portrayal of depression and addiction, as well as the success of real recovery programs in giving people hope for a clean and successful life after addiction.

References

Erbland, Kate. 2023. “With 'A Good Person,' Zach Braff Creates Something Worse Than the Manic Pixie Dream Girl.” IndieWire, March 25, 2023. https://www.indiewire.com/2023/03/a-good-person-zach-braff-manic-pixie-dream-girl-1234821853/.

NIAA. 2022. “Deaths involving alcohol increased during the COVID-19 pandemic.” National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA). https://www.niaaa.nih.gov/news-events/research-update/deaths-involving-alcohol-increased-during-covid-19-pandemic.

Yu, Brandon. 2023. “Trying to Look Up After Hitting Rock Bottom.” The New York Times (New York, New York edition), March 24, 2023, C7. https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/23/movies/a-good-person-review-zach-braff.html.

Saints or Sinners? Italian-American Representations from Early Hollywood to the Many Saints

Dennis Barone sums it up well when he states, “The Italian as criminal, Mafioso and sexual predator is a well-established character in American film genres” Baroone makes an excellent argument that the depictions of Italian Americans as gangsters long preceded The Godlfather his article, “Translating identities: the Italian as other in two early American films, ”which appeared in Metro Magazine in June 2007. The idea of stereotyping Italian Americans as mobsters is certainly something we still see in films and television today, perhaps an extension of the success of the Godfather. The release of The Many Saints of Newark released in 2021 exemplifies this stereotype as an extension of The Sopranos, an Italian American family in the “business,” much like The Godfather represented the Corleone family fifty years prior. What is interesting, however, and what Barone points out so eloquently, is this was well established before Hollywood developed as a major player in popular culture thanks to representations in later 1800’s novels as well as early film of the 1910s. We have to delve much more into the past in order to understand how well established this particular stereotype is and why it was created in the first place.

The idea of the Italian mobster is certainly evident in films after the success of The Godfather in 1972. In fact there is a long list of Italian-American gangster films released since 1972 including Capone (1975), Wise Guys (1986), Married to the Mob (1988), Goodfellas (1990), A Bronx Tale (1993), Casino (1995), Donnie Brasco (1997), and of course The Godfather Trilogy (1972, 1974, and 1990, respectively). But the idea of the Italian mobster was well established in early Hollywood, even before the stereotypical “gangster films” of the Depression era when James Cagney made organized crime “cool,” and certainly decades before the Corleone family graced the screen. According to Barone, “the image of the Italian as barbarian was established during the Gilded Age, the years of film's birth, as well as by nineteenth-century literature such as Henry James's Daisy Miller (1878). If the Italian as sexual barbarian has a long history in American culture, so, too, does the Mafia image…..Christian McLeod's 1908 The Heart of the Stranger: A Story of Little Italy and Louis Forgione's Men of Silence of 1928 are novels that capitalized on the scandal of Italian and Italian-American crime--the cultural groundwork, in other words, for the stereotypical image of Italian-Americans in popular culture had been well established before the 'talkies' gave us the harsh sounds of gunfire.” Thus, it is clear that the image of the Italian mobster was well established long before Marlon Brando’s Don Vito Corleone appeared on screen.

Why, then, were Italian immigrants and, later, Italian-Americans, depicted as “mobsters?” Usually we can see a correlation between massive immigration and the perpetuation of stereotypes, typically derived from fear and competition particularly in economics. If there is a massive influx of immigrants, they are competing with lower class Americans for jobs and social and political status. 

We have seen it with Irish immigrants, who were depicted as the “Northern Negro” when there was a mass influx of Irish immigrants fleeing the Irish Potato Famine.

It wasn’t much different for Italians, who fled in droves during the violence of Resurgimiento, or Italian unification under Giuseppe Garibaldi. According to Charles Willis in his piece published on PBS.org entitled Destination America:“By 1870, there were about 25,000 Italian immigrants in America, many of them Northern Italian refugees from the wars that accompanied the Risorgimento—the struggle for Italian unification and independence from foreign rule. Between around 1880 and 1924, more than four million Italians immigrated to the United States, half of them between 1900 and 1910 alone—the majority fleeing grinding rural poverty in Southern Italy and Sicily.” A massive influx of Italian immigrants then coincides with the Gilded Age, typically designated as between 1870 and 1900, and with the rise of Hollywood in the later 1910s and early 1920s. Vilifying “the other” is a byproduct of this mass influx of Italian immigrants. This is certainly something to remember when viewing The Sopranos or The Godfather, or any other film that stereotypes Italian-Americans, as it stems from the idea that these “others” are a threat to America, when in reality, America should be a melting pot, accepting of all ethnicities considering that America was founded on this concept of acceptance of all. In fact, it would be pertinent to remember Lady Liberty’s statement:

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

After all, America is a country built from immigrants.

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Barone, Dennis. "Translating identities: the Italian as other in two early American films." Metro Magazine, no. 153, June 2007, pp. 173+. Gale OneFile: Pop Culture Studies, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A174282262/PPOP?u=edis78478&sid=bookmark-PPOP&xid=cc47e116. Accessed 10 June 2022.


Image 1: (Political cartoons sometimes played on Americans' fears of immigrants. This one, which appeared in a 1896 edition of the Ram's Horn, depicts an immigrant carrying his baggage of poverty, disease, anarchy and sabbath desecration, approaching Uncle Sam.https://www.ushistory.org/us/38c.asp)



Image 2: Engraving of political cartoon drawn by Thomas Nast From Harper's Weekly, 9 December 1876, p. 985.)

Dog: Surprisingly Opening Serious Conversations about Mental Health

 

When the previews for Dog came out, I was honestly expecting a ridiculous film about a dog one-upping a thirtysomething bachelor who likely needed a bit of schooling on relationships. Think Turner and Hooch, but more silly. When I saw Dog, I was pleasantly surprised by the serious message and the appropriately delivered story. When the film opens, we meet Lulu, a Belgian Malinois dog who was trained as a military K-9, and her handler Riley Rodriguez through photos, drawings, and poetry, apparently created by Riley Rodriguez, Lulu’s handler, as he details their day-to-day work and play in the rough terrain of Afghanistan. Through these photos, drawings, poems, and details of the opening montage, we quickly learn of the strong bond between the Lulu and Rodriguez, one that can not easily be replicated should either dog or human cease to exist. It is certainly understandable that this bond would be unbreakable considering the intensity of Rodriguez and Lulu’s career as it is literally a daily life-and-death struggle.

We then meet Army Ranger Jackson Briggs, played by Channing Tatum who also co-directed the film, working in what appears to be a “Subway” style sandwich shop, while trying to reup his enlistment despite a traumatic brain injury from his previous tour in Afghanistan. His calls his former Commanding Officer and attempts to get his former unit to vouch for him but, due to Briggs’ traumatic brain injury (TBI) which is documented in his medical record, neither his CO or his unit will recommend him for service. This is an important detail of our story, as it reveals how Briggs’ sees his self-worth only through his military service, and when he cannot re-enlist, he feels he has no value, which can open discussions not only on veterans returning from combat but also on mental health more generally. Two major world events are relevant here, the United States’ withdrawal from Afghanistan bringing home veterans who may feel their self-worth is no longer valid as their combat duty came to a sudden end; and the pandemic which contributed to isolation and furthered depression as a result.  According to a March 2, 2022 press release, “In the first year of the COVID-19 pandemic, global prevalence of anxiety and depression increased by a massive 25%, according to a scientific brief released by the World Health Organization (WHO),” making the mental health issues we see in Briggs even more relevant to our current situation.

We also learn early in our film that Rodriguez died in a car accident, which sets the stage for the road trip storyline…. Briggs must bring Lulu to Rodriguez’s funeral. If he can do this one mission, Briggs’ CO promises to recommend Briggs for service. But, of course, there is a catch. Although Briggs and Rodriguez were close, Lulu has been dubbed “aggressive” as she is not cooperative with any handlers now that Rodriguez is gone, and understandably so since that bond was so strong. So, Lulu will attend the funeral, with Briggs, and then be euthanized as she is not considered adoptable. And so the road trip, and the bonding, begin. Lulu and Briggs find through this long journey that they actually have much in common, dealing with PTSD, TBI, and of course the loss of Rodriguez, which may not have been an accident, lending even more to the important mental health discussions in this film.

Without giving away too much, the film is much more serious and relevant than expected. Of course there are laughs and silly moments, but there are also endearing moments, lessons learned, bonding, and sharing, and tears. Both Briggs and Lulu grow and learn throughout the film. They both suffer from PTSD and TBI, they both feel as though they lost their self-worth after their combat tours ended, they both have to come to terms with loss, and they both need to learn to adjust to civilian life. Even though they do not always get along, this is certainly a pair that need each other, and we get to go along for the ride sharing in their journey while opening conversations about mental health, veteran’s healthcare, and the importance of bonding with a furry friend who may actually understand us better than we do ourselves.

The Card Counter: More than a Tale of Gambling

Imagine you join the military with the high ideals of protecting American lives. Instead, the military hires a private contractor to train you in interrogation methods that basically equates with torture under the guise of “saving” Americans. Then, you become so hardened to the immorality of torture and are further encouraged to find creative ways to dehumanize prisoners in order to extract information. The lines of morality become so blurred you can no longer find them. And in a moment where your sense of right and wrong is so completely lost, you take photos with your torture victims, espousing “pride” in what you are doing in order to justify the inhumanity and immorality of your own acts.

The 2021 film The Card Counter directed by Paul Shrader tells this story with fictional William Bell, played by Oscar Isaac, as our ex-military interrogator. However, the story is reminiscent of several “scandals” where the US military engaged in questionable behavior, including the 2011 scandal when members of the 5th Stryker Brigade dubbed “the Kill Team” stationed near Kandahar in Afghanistan took photos with Afghan civilians whom they murdered. We can also compare this to the My Lai massacre that occurred within the scope of the Vietnam War. And probably even more so, this film speaks to the Abu Ghraib prison scandal from 2003. This prison held detained Iraqis from 2003 to 2006, and photos emerged of US military personnel torturing these detainees. In fact, our story highlights interrogation methods used at Guantanamo Bay and how these methods were “perfected” for use at Abu Ghraib as Bell explains his experiences during the film in a powerfully emotional conversation.

The film is a powerful statement on morality of warfare and rules of engagement. If we look deeper into The Card Counter we can see how necessary it is to make those who create and implement the torture machines responsible for their actions, and, in fact, that is the point. While the actors themselves should be held accountable, and our hero in The Card Counter does time in Leavenworth for his questionable interrogation methods as documented by the photos. But the ones who implement these tactics, train these interrogators, and design the interrogation methods are largely untouched by the law. In other words, they are not held accountable for their actions in teaching and advocating torture as an acceptable interrogation method.

After My Lai came to light in the early 1970’s, only Second Lieutenant William Calley was charged, prosecuted, and found guilty. However, even in Calley’s case, his sentence was commuted to parole by then President Richard Nixon. Another Second Lieutenant worked alongside Calley in leading the troops to the village at My Lai, but he was not convicted of any crimes. Captain Ernest Medina, who led the assault and prepped his troops to avenge earlier deaths, was not held accountable, nor was Major General Samuel W. Koster who oversaw the mission. In fact, according to Christopher J. Levesque of the New York Times, “The ambitions of the senior officers in the 23rd Infantry Division helped create the environment in which the massacre unfolded and was hidden from scrutiny. General Koster viewed his command as a temporary stop on his way to higher rank — commanding a division in combat was another box to check. The division public affairs officer, Lt. Col. Charles Anistranski, remembered General Koster being furious over the results of My Lai because the official body count of 128 Vietcong killed, but only three weapons recovered, reflected poorly on his leadership.” Then we also have Lieutenant Colonel Barker and the brigade commander Lt. Col. Oran Henderson who worked to cover up the incident along with Medina and yet only Calley went to trial.

The Afghanistan story of the 5th Stryker Brigade is also problematic not only in the actions of the soldiers but also in the way the events are told. In fact, the “Kill Team” is often dubbed a “rogue unit” meaning that the 5th Stryker Brigade was not authorized to act as they did. Of course the military would not officially authorize the murder of Afghan civilians, but the training of these soldiers, the failure to vet psychological issues, and the horrors of the war itself created the atmosphere for yet another massacre. Accountability needs to go higher than Staff Sergeant Calvin Gibbs and the 11 soldiers under his command who were convicted of varying levels of criminal activity. After the first murder, Specialist Adam Winfield had a conversation with his father expressing horror at the actions of “Kill Team.” Winfield’s father made several complaints to the US Army, but these complaints were ignored. An investigation determined that officer accountability in this case was not warranted leaving the blame on the soldiers themselves even though the system likely created the “Kill Team” mentality of vengeance. Further, reports of “Kill Team” murdering civilians went largely ignored by the Army’s upper ranks until the photographic evidence was leaked by Rolling Stone forcing the Army to act.

We have to look at the Iraqi prison scandal as this is William Bell’s story. We may see William Bell as Eric Fair who wrote a memoir detailing his time as a prison interrogator at Abu Ghraib. Fair says in an interview with NPR: “"We hurt people, and not just physically. We destroyed them emotionally, and ... I think at the very least it's a just punishment for us that we suffer some of those consequences, too….. My behavior towards Iraqi detainees did not meet the standard that I had simply been raised on. It was not the way that I should've behaved. There are long discussions about why those things happened ... and how difficult it was to sort of break from those expectations of being a soldier — but none of that matters. I made horrible mistakes. ... I have a responsibility to confess those things openly." The tactic used by Fair and other interrogators were considered legal by the United States government, but Fair concludes the tactics were in fact torture, and it weighs heavily on his conscience. Just like in The Card Counter, Bell struggles with making peace with his time as an interrogator. Bell also meets Cirk Baufort whose father also worked at Abu Ghraib but couldn’t come to terms with his actions and took his own life. Cirk blames Major Gordo, a private contractor who trained these military men in interrogation techniques, but was not charged with any crimes when the unorthodox tactics came to light. Fair worked as an interrogator in Abu Ghraib and Fallujah, employed by a private company under contract to the military. Just like in The Card Counter, the private contractor in Fair’s account was not held accountable for training these interrogators in the violation of basic human rights.

While an excellent story told by director Paul Shrader, with phenomenal acting by Oscar Isaac and the supporting cast, the moral here is so important to open discussions on accountability at all levels, especially when these actions violate the basic human rights of others, and the training virtually makes one act immorally. As we can see through our own United States military history, there is a pattern of behavior here that needs deep scrutinization to break this cycle. Thank you to Paul Shrader for not being afraid to tell this story without glamourizing our military or the private contractors they hire, and for promoting proper accountability.

We Can't Wait to Get Back in the Water

Movies have been around for over a century, and have been a great source of both entertainment and escape, particularly when we are faced with hardships or stressors. Going to the movies allows us a two-hour respite from the daily grind. In fact, during the Great Depression the popularity of the movies soared. According to Digital History, “Hollywood played a valuable psychological role during the Great Depression. It provided reassurance to a demoralized nation. Even at the deepest depths of the Depression, 60 to 80 million Americans attended movies each week.” We find ourselves in one of those unique and challenging times again as we enter into the Summer of 2020, but this time, there is no summer blockbuster to take our minds off the COVID pandemic. There is no two-hour movie theater escape. However, we are seeing some of the great movies of the past being offered in pop-up drive-ins and streaming services, so this can provide an opportunity to look back at the first summer blockbuster and how it set the standard for the great summer movies.

Jaws, released in 1975, fit right into the “disaster film” genre helping it to gain an immediate audience. Though it has been argued that Jaws was based on the 1916 shark attacks along the Jersey Shore, the modern setting and the release date follow along with the long list of disaster films that were popular in the early to mid-1970s that began with Airport, released in 1970 amid the growing number of airline hijackings including the 1968 Pan Am flight from John F Kennedy airport that was forced to land in Cuba and the 82 similar hijacking the following year. Other disaster films followed Airport, including The Poseidon Adventure (1972) and The Towering Inferno (1974) along with a rise in horror films such as Psycho (1960), The Exorcist (1973) and Texas Chain-Saw Massacre (1974). With Jaws, the terror comes from a shark, but Jaws can be considered a combination of the disaster film and the horror film, making it unique but also springing from the popularity of both styles of film, explaining the box office success of the film in its time period.

Jaws was a reflection of its time as a disaster and horror film, but it also speaks to the economic situation at that time. Films often can tell us about the social, political, and economic realities of the time in which it was created. The small Cape Cod town that is the setting of Jaws relies on tourism to survive, specifically the summer beachgoers. This is clear when the town’s mayor refuses to close the beaches on the July 4th holiday, understanding the economic impact would be devastating, regardless of the threat to life, revealing that Jaws can be considered a statement about the economy. We have seen a resurgence of the mayor in the memes comparing the opening of the beaches on July 4th in Jaws to the debate about opening New York, New Jersey, and Florida beaches amid the COVID pandemic. The film’s messages, thus, are timeless, particularly when debating the balance between health and safety and economic stability.

Understanding the director also gives light to how well a film is received. Steven Spielberg, who directed Jaws, is often considered a directing genius, and it is important to know he built upon his predecessors for his own success. With the idea of building on the past while also creating something new, Spielberg has credited Alfred Hitchcock as a model referencing “Vertigo’s famous reverse dolly zoom in Jaws.” Surprisingly, Spielberg was also influenced by Walt Disney: “I was probably more influenced by Walt Disney than by anybody else,” he has recalled. “I loved cartoons as a kid, and I remember that I was more frightened by the 'Night on Bald Mountain' sequence in Fantasia than by anything I ever saw in a movie before or since.” 'Bald Mountain' effectively uses the music with the visuals to bring the audience on the edge of its seat, with the music building while the mountain opens into a demon in the style of the Devil. Jaws uses its theme music to build suspense in the audience while the swimmers are splashing around the water, while the audience waits on edge for the next attack. Instantly recognizable, we all know the shark is coming when we hear those musical notes, and the score has become a symbol of building fear even outside of that particular film.

Lastly, box office success of Jaws cannot be denied as it was the first real summer blockbuster. Kate Erbland wrote in “How ‘Jaws’ Forever Changed the Modern Day Blockbuster — And What Today’s Examples Could Learn From It,” in a 2017 Indie Wire article that Jaws established “the blueprint for modern-day blockbusters... Jaws was made for less than $9 million, Jaws went on to make over $470 million in global returns, including a $260 million domestic take that earned it the top spot at the box office in 1975.” In fact, Jaws established the idea of a summer blockbuster that many current film studios have tried to copy. For these reasons, Jaws can be considered a great film by any standards. And we can’t wait until we can go “back in the water again.”