Film FreeQ: History of the Modern Blockbuster: The Last Quarter Century, Part I -- Out of the Water and Into Hyperspace

Most people apparently forget (well, some wouldn't know anyway, because they weren't there) that the "summer blockbuster" was not a hot commodity prior to 1975. Sure, there have been many popular features that dominated ticket sales for decades, from Walt Disney's definitive animated fairy tale Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) to Victor Fleming's historical epic romance Gone With the Wind (1939), Julie Andrews' melodic presence in The Sound of Music (1965), Francis Ford Coppola's mob drama The Godfather (1972), and William Friedkin's terrifying and controversial The Exorcist (1973).

For the last 45 years alone, only seven movies have each held the title of "most successful [financially] of all-time". Looking back, these films (along with the aforementioned) represent a fraction of the history of cinemagoing. From the depths of the ocean to the far reaches of space, bikes to the moon and back, resurrected dinosaurs and great ships, a world called Pandora, and iconic superheroes, the impact of the "blockbuster" feature has had a profound effect on the general public, popular culture, and filmmaking and storytelling in general.

The following is the first in a new series on selective films since 1975, some of which (adjusted for inflation) still rank as some of the very best. And to think this exponential trend all started with a bestselling Peter Benchley novel about a shark.

You're gonna need a bigger boat.

~Martin Brody

In the 1970s, a group of up-and-coming directors made pictures that transcended art and redefined cinema. Some of them centered on the "anti-hero" (i.e., Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver) while others dealt with traumas from the Vietnam war (Coppola's Apocalypse Now). Only a few, meanwhile, focused on periods of innocence before the latter time (i.e., George Lucas's American Graffiti), while some were an inspiration for millions facing adversity (i.e., John G. Avildsen's Rocky). This may also have been the last decade where arthouse-related films from visionary filmmakers dominated theaters and attracted the general public. That may have all changed due to the unexpected success of a sleeper thriller from a young director--one Steven Spielberg--who had only made two feature films prior, and considered his third directorial outing as both a "courageous" and "horrendous" experience.

Watching Jaws, you wouldn't think that it suffered from several production issues. From an initial eight-week shoot turning into seven months to actor Robert Shaw (who plays shark hunter Quint)'s alcoholism and the constant malfunctioning of the animatronic shark (nicknamed "Bruce," or "the Great White Turd"), Spielberg considers this film the hardest he's ever made (above 1998's Saving Private Ryan and 2018's Ready Player One).

Like other revered films that have endured behind-the-scenes drama, they're now considered dramatic irony--maybe in the best way. Because the mechanical beast wasn't operating effectively, Spielberg utilized a Hitchcockian approach in not revealing the eponymous creature for the first half of the film, which wouldn't have had the same effect otherwise--and why the sequels and various subsequent rip-offs don't. Jaws is a prime example of a high-concept feature: in this case, a great white shark terrorizing a small resort town.

(l-r) Robert Shaw, Roy Scheider, and Richard Dreyfuss in 1975's Jaws

What really carries the film's screenplay (written by Benchley, Carl Gottlieb, and an uncredited Howard Sackler) are its non-cookie-cutter characters, all fully-dimensional and engrossing. There's police chief Marcus Brody (Roy Scheider) ,who is faced with guilt over the safety of the local Amity Island's residents and dismissive authorities (and a personal fear of the water). Fisherman Quint (Shaw) hides a personal grudge against sharks (just listen to his haunting speech about the Indianapolis) and an apparent disdain for others, while scientist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) seems to be the only other voice of reason. All characters deal with believable and plausible dilemmas, including the fact (and truth) that such traumatizing events could happen anywhere, even in places that aren't typically known for such events.

While not an enjoyable film to have made, Jaws remains an incredible and effective (if tense and thrilling) one to watch. From a bold storytelling and directorial point of view, it could qualify as something of a perfect film; almost two for the price of one, in fact. First, we have a psychological horror-thriller. And second, we have an adventure story involving hunting and killing a supposedly unstoppable force. Plus, John Williams' unforgettable score always reminds audiences of impending terror, while the shark itself still holds up really well.

It's not for everybody: it still makes people afraid of water, and is quite bloody. (Not to mention an opening scene involving skinny-dipping.) Nevertheless, this is the kind of movie that demands to be seen on the big screen. (I had an opportunity to see it as such, two years ago.) It's one of the few primary examples of art and roller-coaster that exceeded box-office expectations.

That's no moon. It's a space station.
~Obi-Wan Kenobi

As a protege of Coppola, George Lucas's interests ranged from anthropology to science-fiction to automobiles (clearly expressed in his first two features, 1971's THX-1138 and 1973's American Graffiti, respectfully). Inspired by Flash Gordon serials of the 1940s and, more specifically the writings of American professor Joseph Campbell, Lucas was motivated to create a story for children of the current generation, who were apparently growing up without fairy tales and mythological stories.

The story, as simple as it was, followed a ragtag team of intergalactic misfits on a quest to destroy a powerful machine before it destroys other planets. The characters included droid robots, farm boys, princesses, rebel fighters, Jedi masters, an evil empire, and furry creatures called Wookies. What made Lucas's creation unique was its pastiche of various genres and archetypes. Instead of western gunslingers or samurai warriors, there were Jedi knights wielding lightsabers. Instead of cars, they drive spaceships and X-wings.

Interestingly, many critics and historians have found similarities between this film and The Wizard of Oz . Both consist of a hero's journey (compare farm girl Dorothy and farm boy Luke Skywalker), with assistance from some companions (Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion, compared to the humanoid C-3PO, trash can-like R2-D2, Wookie Chewbacca, lone pilot Han Solo, Leia) and an age-old master (the Wizard and Obi-Wan Kenobi) against a powerful adversary (the Wicked Witch and her castle of flying monkeys; and Darth Vader, the Empire and the Death Star). These were fantasy worlds and original characters that had never been seen before. Hence the now-iconic opening tagline, "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . ."

Released in 1977, the same year as Spielberg's Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Lucas didn't believed Star Wars would be more--if not as--successful as Spielberg's. John Williams scored both films, with the latter undoubtedly becoming the most influential. (Seriously, anybody can recognize the opening theme just by hearing the very first note.) More than that, Star Wars forever changed the way movies are marketed, how they incorporate special effects (particularly in service to story), the way they sound, and the way they appeal to general audiences. And since that time, Lucas's intent in maintaining fairy tales and mythology paid off with millions of current-generation children and adults being impacted by way of science-fiction, technology, and imagination. And hundreds of thousands of giant movie theater screens.