Jaws

In the quiet coastal town of Amity Island, a massive great white shark begins a terrifying killing spree, turning the summer paradise into a blood-soaked nightmare. Police Chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) wants to close the beaches, but the town's mayor refuses, fearing economic ruin. As the attacks escalate, Brody teams up with oceanographer Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) and grizzled shark hunter Quint (Robert Shaw) to hunt down the monstrous predator in a deadly battle of man vs. nature.

Making Jaws was a nightmare in the best way possible. Shooting on the unpredictable waters of Martha’s Vineyard, Spielberg and his crew battled malfunctioning equipment, blown budgets, and a mechanical shark (affectionately dubbed "Bruce") that refused to work properly. Ironically, these disasters made the movie better. With Bruce constantly out of commission, Spielberg had to get creative using underwater cameras, floating barrels, and John Williams’ now-legendary two-note theme to suggest the shark’s presence. The result? Way scarier than any rubber monster could’ve been.

The production was so grueling it became Hollywood legend. What was supposed to be a 55 day shoot stretched to nearly 160 days, pushing the crew to their limits. But the chaos birthed magic. Robert Shaw’s haunting USS Indianapolis monologue one of the greatest scenes in cinema was originally performed while Shaw was drunk. They reshot it the next day, and the rest is history. Then there’s Roy Scheider’s improvised "You’re gonna need a bigger boat," a line so good it’s still quoted 50 years later.

When Jaws finally hit theaters in 1975, it didn’t just succeed it changed movies forever. The first true "summer blockbuster," it proved that a high-concept thriller could dominate the box office, paving the way for everything from Star Wars to Marvel. It also, somewhat unfairly, made an entire generation terrified of sharks. Three sequels followed (we don’t talk about Jaws: The Revenge), but nothing matched the original’s raw power. In 2001, the Library of Congress deemed it "culturally significant," preserving it in the National Film Registry a fitting honor for the film that rewrote the rules of Hollywood.