Jaws is one of my favorite films of all time. It’s proudly featured in my Top Four on Letterboxd, right up there Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Social Network, and North by Northwest, and something I watch at least once a year— especially during the summertime. The shark doesn’t scare me!
I was obsessed with this film when I was a kid, largely because it felt like such a mythical film. Jaws is considered one of the first ever blockbusters, but it’s also considered critically good, which isn’t all that common, especially today. This was a movie that the world has referenced despite being a 50-year-old film, thanks to its iconic characters, set pieces, and score. It also terrified my mother as a kid, making her uneasy around water for quite some time; I’ve heard other friends say the same things about their parents. My family never owned a copy of the movie, which only added to Jaws’ ethereal status. I wasn’t able to watch it until I was a teenager and went on the high seas to obtain it.
As you probably expected, John Williams’ score was a major reason why I wanted to watch the film. Even before I was able to watch the film proper, I was already intimately familiar with the score thanks to JWFan forum discussions and countless listens on YouTube. The music is not just a two-note ostinato that simply repeats and builds to a crescendo during each attack. No, the score to Jaws is an incredible musical narrative full of melodic characters that represent a brutal force of nature…and the innocent town that happens to be in its sights and their determination to fight back.
I was always delighted that there are recurring musical themes in the film, which, in true Williams fashion, are not only hummable but also encapsulate the emotions and attitudes of the characters, as well as obviously signaling their screen appearance. Brody, Hooper, and Quint are represented by jaunty jigs that are not dissimilar to what you may have heard on hornpipe in a 30s swashbuckling film; it provides a sense of adventure and a bit of levity, an expertly ironic choice considering the drama and danger that these characters face as they hunt the Shark. On that note (lol), Williams also offers up a baroque-esque fugue in a minor key for the Trio, providing an air of dark determination for our heroes. These two themes, along with the Shark Theme, get to play together in “The Great Shark Chase”. It’s not exactly “blockbuster music”, but that’s entirely the point– Williams could have written easy wallpaper music, but instead opted for something that builds on existing, artful references and transforms them into an interesting and effective score.
Even the Shark Theme itself isn’t as straightforward as you might expect. Yes, the main idea is a simple two-note ostinato (E-F), but the more you listen, the more you hear how Williams adds in details for expanded expression. In addition to playing with rhythm (the ostinato can be slow and tense or it murmurs or hesitates, like an animal ready to pounce), I love that Williams adds dissonant Hermann-esque chord stabs, certainly calling to mind Psycho, which came out 15 years prior. Numerous analyses have compared the ostinato and stabs to the Shark’s heartbeat or breathing, with the music being the embodiment of the macabre adrenaline that accompanies a kill. To me, all of this development makes Williams’ Shark theme more than just a pastiche of Dvorak. It’s also because the theme is more than just the ostinato.
If you listen to the opening titles (or literally any other cue), the Shark is also represented by a three-note ascending phrase played by a tuba in a high register; apparently, Williams picked the tuba over the more “appropriate” French Horn as the timbre just felt more “sinister”. I’ve always been fascinated by the three-note motif because it darkly serves as a fanfare for the Shark, announcing its presence like a booming trumpet call before a foxhunt. This brass melody also provides a deeper sound-character to the Shark, contrasting against the sharp and fast-paced strings that we hear most often. It’s really interesting to see how Williams employs this specific motif; the two-note ostinato begins the Shark’s presence, but it’s only until you hear the Tuba fanfare that you know the Shark is really in business. To me, the three-note tuba fanfare is the true Shark Theme, not the string ostinato. I feel justified because you also first hear the fanfare right when the title appears on screen– surely an intentional move by Williams.
Again, I can’t believe that Williams went this hard on only his second collaboration with a young Steven Spielberg. As I’ve said before, a deep appreciation of film score (and developing a taste for specific approaches) was what formed my approach to menswear. It’s always good to Full Send and express your style/taste on everything that you do, even on a silly little thriller that barely had a working Shark.
Over the years, my appreciation for Jaws deepened considerably, going from a case study about good music to being about exemplary filmmaking. It’s really just a good film and is certainly more than an animal-meets-slasher flick. But there’s one aspect I didn’t consider until later: the clothing.
Jaws is a bit of a sleeper of a style movie. Outside of Mayor Vaughn’s absurdly preppy attire when discussing a shark attack, there isn’t too much in the realm of sartorialism. But that doesn’t stop the film from being stylish. Each of the characters and extras is simply wearing regular clothes, clothes that are quite 70s and certainly Americana (casual prep, workwear, milsurp) but are also full of character and attitude. It all feels natural, something that anyone can wear, as well as being indicative of a particular lifestyle (a small, coastal town) and their backstory.
It’s no wonder that Menswear has come to embrace this film over the past few years. I remember the iconic Primer article that covers the style of the film. I always found it funny because all of the pieces really are just regular clothes: jeans, sweatshirts, and a bit of milsurp. But that’s entirely the power of Americana. Regular clothes can be styled in a way that communicates character and can even be particular enough to be iconic to a character, serving as their uniform. In practice, it’s almost like using vintage menswear to send up Indiana Jones– you can dress as your favorite shark-hunting hero at any time simply by wearing an olive military jacket over a chambray (with a broken cap to boot). You see, Jaws isn’t a movie full of tactically dressed experts– it’s a movie about regular people who are trying to protect their town.
I didn’t expect Jaws to be one of my “menswear films” (not many Spielberg movies fit this in my canon), but it undoubtedly has become one now. I find myself saying “damn, that’s good” not just for a Williams cue but for whenever I see a great fit pop up on screen. And at this point, thanks to my deeper appreciation of rugged-prep and general 70s fits, I say it not just for the protagonists but with any extra. This usually happens with “vintage movies” like The Maltese Falcon or North by Northwest, but I guess Jaws fits in that category now.
And so, like those other certified Menswear flicks, I decided that it was time to discuss the style in Jaws myself. It also serves to celebrate its 50th anniversary!
I’m starting with Quint, simply because his entire look is something that I could see (and have seen) Spencer wear or hell, anyone even vaguely interested in menswear. Quint’s entire ensemble of milsurp, workwear, and Americana is not only easy and practical but full of inherent character. However, it is Robert Shaw’s brilliant performance that turns these garments into something so quintessentially Quint (lol).
The audience first encounters this character of a man, who is basically a big game hunter-meets-pirate, at the town hall right after the tragic death of little Alex Kinter. Quint isn’t yet wearing the “uniform” we’ve come to know; instead, he’s dressed rather subdued, blending right into this civic meeting. However, his pieces still point toward his seafaring backstory.
His chambray workshirt and black wool CPO overshirt are both elements of old USN attire, though based on the details (collar shape, pocket styles), it looks like Quint’s are 70s (likely contemporary surplus) and not 40s/WWII ones he might have worn when he was enlisted. The 40s-esque vibe continues with his broken-billed hat, which looks to be similar to the mechanic caps worn in WWII, though Quint’s is incredibly dirty and made of waxed cotton canvas and not HBT. We move away from the Naval look with his brown (or heavily faded black) work pants, which are firmly fisherman; our pal BAMF notes that such pants are better for cleaning and drying than regular blue jeans. And for footwear, he dons brown penny loafers– an Americana choice that works better in town than ratty deck shoes that we see him wear later. I guess even a gruff guy has a space in his wardrobe for pennies– you should too!
Quint keeps his floppy-collared chambray once we’re firmly on his beloved Orca (aptly named because they kill sharks) but adds black-faded work pants (they’re less brown) as well as his iconic M-51 field jacket; whether or not he stayed enlisted until the 50s, we do not know. The jacket plants Quint firmly as a military man who has kept his pragmatic sensibilities even when he’s shifted his targets from man to beast. We also see him shift from penny loafers to practical deck shoes, which may have started out white/cream at some point ages ago, when the trio goes out to sea.
With his rugged and milsurp look, we are inclined to trust him to take care of our shark problem, but it soon becomes clear that he is a little too shark-crazy the longer the hunt goes on — and the more barrels we use. To me, this nature is clearly shown when Quint starts using his bandana as a sweatband. This serves a practical function as it absorbs sweat and keeps it out of your eyes, but it also creates a bit of a guerilla-fighter look; in the meta sense, it definitely calls Rambo to mind. I like that Quint rocks the look when he meets his end, swinging his machete widely as he slides down the dying Orca. What a tragic (and honestly awesome) way to go!
While I seldom wear a bandana in that fashion, I can’t help but feel a bit Quint-esque whenever I wear an olive jacket with a chambray. Even if it combines Army with Navy, it creates such an iconically rugged and American vibe that works for most things; it’s also the uniform for many a vintage dealer, at least the older heads who aren’t in 70s tees. When I do it, I like the use of loafers to help nod to my love of tailored looks, but I sometimes can’t help but put on some deck shoes to be a bit more like Quint.
Matt Hooper, played by Richard Dreyfuss, is our designated nerd. However, this doesn’t mean he dresses poorly or superfluously. Much like Quint (with whom he buts heads with nearly the entire film), Hooper’s style is a perfect encapsulation of Americana style, being rather rugged with a hint of preppy charm. This also helps express to the audience that Hooper does indeed have practical and scientific knowledge, while nodding to his wealthy upbringing.
Hooper does have a uniform, which the audience is treated to right when we first see him: a faded Canadian tuxedo (made up of regular jeans and a type-3 denim jacket), navy deck shoes (likely Sperrys), and a perennial American classic: a grey raglan sleeve sweatshirt. Once the action starts, however, he’s pared it down to just the jeans and sweat. I like that he also wears a knit cap, a common and practical hat worn by those at sea to keep warm. He swaps this for a Daisy Mae-style bucket hat, a hat actually worn by the US Navy during WWII. These hats double down on the practicality of Hooper’s attire (that’s the power of headwear) and help emphasize Hooper’s de facto “sailor” attitude, even if his other garments (bar the deck shoes) aren’t exactly naval in origin. Again, this reminds me of Quint, who, apart from the chambray, wears largely “regular” (but practical) clothes– they all just happen to be what they wear when they’re at sea.
It seems that Hooper, like Quint, also maintains a sense of decorum by dressing for the Occasion. Just as Quint wore penny loafers when attending the town hall, Hooper puts on a corduroy sport coat and tie and swaps his deck shoes for leather boat shoes when he visits Brody at home; he’s even courteous enough to bring a bottle of wine. While our silly action-nerd has elevated his formality, you’ll still note that Hooper still wears his blue jeans (not chinos) and uses a chambray workshirt (instead of a preppy OCBD); the latter clearly isn’t meant to be closed up, as you can see the fit around the neck with the tie looks a little off. He keeps this fit on when he later performs “some sort of half-assed autopsy” on the tiger shark, as well as when he meets with Mayor Vaughn the next morning. I can only imagine that the smell did not help Hooper convince the Mayor to shut down the beach.
Finally, we have Chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider), our thalassophobic Police Chief and main protagonist. And as you would expect from a police chief, Brody is mainly seen around town in his uniform, consisting of a khaki workshirt (with a grey crewneck tee underneath) and flat front, straight-cut (maybe even semi-flared as it is the 70s) chinos. This is his work uniform after all, which he adds some pizzazz to by alternating between the khaki and navy variants of the Amity PD blouson.
When Brody is at the beach, he seems to still favor wearing khaki and blue, which he dons at the beach in true prep fashion: a navy short-sleeved sweatshirt and khaki short-shorts. While these are appropriate for a slightly chilly summer, it still feels vaguely militaristic as well as being closed up. In any case, Brody he is not swim-ready and for good reason– the good chief has Brody no plans to get in the water if he can help it.
This culminates in his final looks on the Orca, where he’s forced to confront his fears and participate directly in hunting the Shark. He opts for navy knitwear again, both in the short-sleeve sweatshirt from earlier and in the form of a mockneck sweater, which seems to be a bit chunkier and certainly feels more sailor or fisherman-esque; he layers the latter with a grey or ecru chambray workshirt. Brody also seems to keep the blue theme going in his trouser choice. At first, he wears rubber fishing pants (which has a matching hooded jacket, worn in Quint’s shop before they depart) but changes into a pair of regular ‘ol pair of blue jeans (a nod to Hooper?) for the climactic battle. He even has the short-sleeved sweat that he wore when he first saw the Shark eat the Kitner kid. There is nothing militaristic about it– Brody is just a regular guy in regular clothes who wants to defend his new home. He doesn’t even need his eyeglasses to kill the shark!
Brody’s overall attire isn’t as bold as Quint’s or Hooper’s. It certainly lacks the overt rugged attitude that the others have (hell, Brody doesn’t even wear jeans until the end of the film). But something is endearing in his straightforward dress. Brody is safe and looking for consistency, seeing that he moved to Amity, which was purported to be simple and quiet compared to the chaos of New York City. This is certainly reflected in his uniformic and plain style, expressing his good-natured and polite demeanor while still making him look a bit out of place compared to the utilitarian Quint and Hooper. And above all, he looks good! Again, he’s not a huge style inspiration, but it’s proof that simple knitwear, jeans, and shades of khaki will always steer you well. Its just so simple– I find that when I wear navy and khaki, I’m sending up my favorite police chief.
ACAB tho.
What makes the fashion in this movie so great is that classic garments combined with character-based styling aren’t just relegated to the main protagonists, but to everyone in the film. Everything looks and feels natural, immersing you in the story and making you feel like this is a real incident occurring in a quaint town in 1974 – the audience is just here to witness it.
In the town hall meeting, you see a mix of people and their styles: workwear, businesswear, and a sampling of coastal prep, all through a 70s lens. It may look a bit costume-y in retrospect, but everyone is so expressive: you have a guy in a red blazer and tie next to a teen in a chambray brushing up against an old timer with a graphic tee from what is presumably his own business. So much is being communicated in these shots! It’s also just a great case study in 70s fashion.
Seeing Mayor Vaughn on screen, whose style gets almost as much love from menswear enthusiasts as the Orca trio, is quite a macabre delight. He is the epitome of 70s sartorial prep, wearing not just fat collared OCBDs (in pink and blue) but two delightfully bold blazers that would make Andy Bernard quite jealous. The iconic one is the elephant grey twill that has an anchor motif, which he wears twice, both times when he refuses to close the beach in the name of money; Amity is a summer town after all. I’ve also come to like Vaughn’s multistripe blazer (not a boating blazer, mind you) as well, which he wears on the actual 4th of July when he tells a reporter that there may have been some sort of animal that “supposedly injured some bathers”. Putting the most obstinate man in the most silly and nautical-friendly tailoring to emphasize callous dismissal of the situation is simply just masterful costuming.
This is done on a smaller scale with Amity’s Fisherman Posse. Unlike Aliens or Jurassic World where all the characters are exceedingly tactical and wearing state-of-the-art gear, the Amity Island fishermen are in what are largely considered “normal” clothes, but that doesn’t mean the pieces are boring. The posse’s approach mimics what Hooper, Quint, and Brody are wearing: a mix of rugged Americana and a bit of prep, making for interesting clothes (especially to menswear nerds) that are perhaps just a bit out of place despite their practical use.
Ben Gardner (RIP) wears a buffalo plaid hat and a camo jacket with high vis lining; another guy is wearing a red puffer with a Budweiser bucket hat (a favorite among vintage collectors). One dude even just has a ratty red hoodie! They all look like they’re off to hunt an errant bear rather than a vindictive fish, which is entirely the point– these men have no idea what they’re doing. The posse is just slapping things together, wearing what they have, and setting off to get what they assume will be an easy payout. But in the case of Ben Gardner, as well as with the protagonists themselves, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Jaws is simply just a well-costumed film that is full of inspiration and genuinely cool pieces (the camo bucket hat and jacket combo??) that we really don’t get from most modern movies, let alone blockbusters.
Looking back, I find it funny how my appreciation of the clothes has grown with each subsequent viewing. In my youth, I liked Hooper and Brody, with each of them being a straightforward representation of Americana, preppy-adjacent charm that still worked as general adventure (or shark hunting) attire. My later appreciation and dive into milsurp helped me appreciate Quint and his use of bringing together Army and Military pieces to create a uniform that nods to the old while feeling classic, practical, and accessible. Now I find myself looking at the townspeople, the fisherman, and yes, the Mayor, each with quirky looks that communicate everything you need to know about them and their little town while being largely wearable and vintage friendly. I feel like with the wardrobe I have, I could reference literally anyone in the film. Well, except for the Mayor.
Jaws is a movie that just delivers on everything I could want from a film: charismatic characters, witty dialogue, a fun adventure, a suspenseful antagonistic force, beautiful cinematography, an expertly expressive score (by Williams), and obviously, for the purposes of this blog and my dumb hobby, fantastic Americana costuming. Watching it year after year is simply a way to appreciate what a good film can be, serving as both a case study and comfort film. There’s just nothing like seeing something that is so technically well done while still providing heart and character. Each element of the movie flows together so easily, making you almost forget just how famously horrid the production was.
But of course, without those issues, we wouldn’t have been able to get the suspense of never fully seeing the shark until the end or Quint’s USS Indianapolis monologue, two of the biggest things that helped make Jaws the icon it is today.
With Jaws returning to the big screen this month for its 50th anniversary (it was released in June but I assume it didn’t get the screen space due to current summer blockbusters), the boys and I decided to watch the film and cover the menswear on the bonus pod. Prior to seeing it on the big screen, I actually saw it three times in rapid succession, once on my own, another randomly with a friend, and then when Spencer did his refresher prior to recording the pod.
Even though the Shark is certainly brutal (and still a bit scary, especially with the broken dock scene, it has made me yearn for the beach and dress for it. LA Beaches are famously quite dirty, but it’s okay, I don’t actually have to go in the water— I can just wear some khaki shorts and a navy short-sleeved sweatshirt to be like my favorite police chief (ACAB though). Let’s just hope I don’t see any shark attacks!
You can listen to the first 15 minutes of the bonus pod above (we don’t even get to talk about Jaws yet, sorry lol), but you’ll have to subscribe on Patreon to get the RSS feed of the full episode (as well as access to our Discord).
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a little bit of rest 
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