J A W S
Final Draft Screenplay
PROD. #02074 PRODUCERS:
1 OVER BLACK
Sounds of the innerspaces rushing forward.
Then a splinter of blue light in the center of the picture.
It breaks wide, showing the top and bottom a silhouetted
curtain of razor sharp teeth suggesting that we are inside
of a tremendous gullet, looking out at the onrushing under-
sea world at night. HEAR a symphony of underwater sounds:
landslide, metabolic sounds, the rare and secret noises that
certain undersea species share with each other.
2 EXT. LIGHTHOUSE – NIGHT
Caught in its blinding flash, the light moves on, fingering
the fog. A lone buoy dongs somewhere out at sea.
3 EXT. AMITY MAINSTREET – NIGHT
The quaint little resort town is quiet in the middle of the
night. A ground fog rounds a corner and begins spreading
toward us. It fills over sidewalks and streets like some
4 EXT. THE SOUTH SHORE OF LONG ISLAND – NIGHT
It is a pleasant, moonlit, windless night in mid-June. We see
a long straight stretch of white beach. Behind the low dunes
are the dark shapes of large expensive houses. The fog that
has reached Amity proper is seen only as a low-hanging cloud
that is pushing in from the sea. HEAR a number of voices sing-
ing. It sounds like an Eastern University’s Alma Mater.
5 ANOTHER ANGLE – BEACH
A bonfire is blazing. Gathered around it are about a dozen
young men and women who are merrily trading fight songs from
their respective universities. Two young people break away
from the circle, Chrissie almost pulling a drunk and disorderly
Tom Cassidy behind her.
6 CLOSEUP – CASSIDY
makes a clumsy try at kissing Christina but she laughs and
7 ANOTHER PART OF THE BEACH
The fire, now one hundred yards in the b.g., silhouettes
Chrissie running up a steep dune. Once there, she pauses to
look at the ocean that we can only hear. Cassidy plods up
the dune behind her, grossly out of shape.
Chrissie runs down a few steps, leaving Tom Cassidy reeling
on the summit. Chrissie’s dress, bra and panties fly toward
Tom, who can’t make a fist to catch them. The dress drapes
over one half of his head. Soggily aroused, Cassidy struggles
to get his shoe off.
But Chrissie is already in full flight toward the shore. In
she goes, a delicate splash, surfacing in a cold ocean that is
unusually placid. Chrissie pulls with her arms, drawing
herself into deeper water.
That’s when we see it. A gentle bulge in the water, a ripple
that passes her a dozen feet away. A wave of pressure lifts
her up and eases her down again. Her face shows the beginning
of fear. Maybe it’s Tom. She smiles and looks around for him,
then her eyes go to the beach where Tom — too drunk to stand
— one pantleg off, is struggling with his other shoe. Chrissie
turns and starts for shore.
8 CLOSE – CHRISSIE
Her expression freezes. The water-lump is racing for her.
It bolts her upright, out of the water to her hips, then slams
her hard, whipping her in an upward arc of eight feet before
she is jerked down to her open mouth. Another jolt to her
floating hair. One hand claws the air, fingers trying to
breathe, then it, too, is sucked below in a final and terrible
jerking motion. HOLD on the churning froth of a baby whirl-
pool until we are sure it is over.
9 ANGLE – CASSIDY
in his undershorts, laughing, turning in slow stoned circles,
a prisoner in his orange windbreaker that seems to have him
in a full Nelson. He stumbles to his knees.
10 INTERIOR – MARTIN BRODY’S BEDROOM – DAWN
giving weather bulletin: marina weather, westerly winds,
light chop, etc.
A pair of bumps under the bedsheets. There is a rustling
and two stockinged feet swing up and settle heavily on the
floor. Follow them as the pad along from hardwood floor
to bathroom tile. A light pops on and the feet arrive at a
scale, board it.
11 INSERT – SCALE DIAL
In a blur it goes to 191. Then, as if by magic, the numbers
float backward to 160.
Martin Brody at forty-two, stands rigid, lifting himself
from the sink counter-top with both hands. Satisfied, he
turns toward the mirror, squinting in the light, measuring
himself up and down. Advancing waistline, receding hairline.
Gray around the ears. Martin Brody makes another silent
promise to get his act together — tomorrow.
He reaches for the sliding mirror and opens the medicine
cabinet. There is a travel brochure of Arizona attached
to the shelf. Brody shakes his head and removes it. He
closes the mirror which now reflects his wife, Ellen Brody,
pert and poised off to one side.
Martin. Aren’t you tired of Maine
lobster, Long Island duckling and
Ispwitch clams. Just once couldn’t
go for a Big Mac at the bottom of
the Grand Canyon this summer?
Look at me, I’m not even awake.
You’ve had no time off in two years,
Living here is time off.
Brody opens the shower door to turn on the water. Ellen
has scotch-taped a travel folder for exotic Mazatlan, Mexico
on the shower head.
13 INTERIOR – BRODY BEDROOM – MORNING
Martin is getting dressed after his shower. Ellen stands
by the curtained window.
Larry Vaughn says we’ll pull a record
season. Ellen, we’re collecting high
enough rentals to cover the mortgage
payments for all three of our beach-
I know where we can invest in an Indian
Chief Motor-home for the whole of August,
drop it off in Aspen, Colorado and jet
back to Boston by Labor Day.
Ellen pulls from behind her back three brochures of trailer
Uh…look, Ellie. Let’s just —
— play it by ear.
Ellen turns to open the curtains. Sunlight and ocean
sparkle pour in. A glorious view.
Another sh*tty day in Paradise.
The sunlight catches Brody’s Police Chief badge as he slips
on his shirt, and we discover why he can’t go anywhere.
14 INTERIOR – BRODY’S KITCHEN – MORNING
Brody, ripping open a twenty-five pound bag of Kennel Ration
as five hungry mutts somersault around his feet. The tele-
phone rings, and Brody one-hands it as he attempts to sow
all five doggy bowls with missed double-helpings.
Mornin’ Hendricks. What’s what?
He listens, sours, and takes a breath.
First goddamn weekend of the summer…
No…take him back to the beach.
Maybe she washed in.
15 EXTERIOR – ISLAND HIGHWAY – MORNING
Martin Brody’s Country Squire police wagon rushes past,
taking the view to an enormous billboard depicting a
typical summer day in Amity. A beautiful model splashes
in the golden surf, languishing in a Solarcaine sun.
AMITY WELCOMES YOU is written above her flailing arms.
16 EXTERIOR – AMITY BEACH – DAY
Three small figures in the landscape, walking the beach.
The surf is rough and there is sea-floor debris strewn
about from the receding tide.
17 CLOSER ANGLE
Deputy Hendricks is searching the shore about one hundred
yards down wind. Meanwhile, Brody, in his casual police
attire, and Tom Cassidy, still in the clothing we saw him
in last night, poke around the smoking ashes of the bon-
fire. Brody fingers the missing girl’s shoes, purse and
clothes. In the daylight, Cassidy looks like a junior in
High School and misconducts himself, wavering between
inflated maturity and tear-blown adolescence.
Worthingsly…Worthington — no one
ever died on me before.
You picked her up on the ferry.
I didn’t know her.
And nobody else saw her in the water?
Somebody could’ve — because I was
sort of passed out.
Sounds to me like maybe she ran out
Oh, no, sir. I’ve never had a
woman do that. I’m sure she drowned.
A shrill whistle makes them turn. Hendricks is fifty
yards away, on his knees. He blows again, a feeble report
We may know in a minute.
Brody runs toward Hendricks, Cassidy hesitates, then follows
You can’t make me look — !
18 MASTER ANGLE – THE SAND DUNE
A skein of seaweed garnishes the base of this isolated dune.
The booming waves and fizzing surf make dialogue inaudible.
Deputy Hendricks on hands and knees, looking white as a
sheet. Brody tells Cassidy to wait at the foot of the dune,
and ventures up. Hendricks stops him with a wave-off, saying
something at the same time. Brody nods understanding and
steps up cautiously. And looks down.
Whatever he sees has a marked effect on his entire physique.
Kicking out with his foot, Brody sends dozens of angry
horseshoe crabs in an escape frenzy and they boil over the
top of the dune and down its slopes.
Cassidy takes a few uneasy steps backwards when Brody waves
him over. He shakes his head. An awkward moment. Then
Cassidy shuffles forward and up the few remaining feet, his
eyes looking everywhere but down. Brody says something else
and Cassidy shakes his head again, eyes out at sea. Brody
puts his hand gently around the quaking man’s shoulder.
Nodding, he starts to look down, an inch at a time. He looks.
The jolt that assaults Cassidy is not unexpected. He falls
backward in a sitting position as though shot. Nods yes —
it’s her. Brody turns and slides off the dune, stumbling
close. Hear his BREATHING. He looks around, envisioning
the week ahead of him….
19 INTERIOR – BRODY’S OFFICE – DAY
Brody walks through the door and enters his office, holding
a fizzing glass of Alka-Seltzer. Polly, his sixty-one year
old secretary follows close on his heels with her shorthand
pad of messages and reminders.
In the outer office, Hendricks and Cassidy slump into chairs,
sipping from fizzing dixie cups.
Brody sits behind the typewriter, only to find that somebody
has placed a travel folder to sunny Scottsdale, Arizona
between the rolls of his Smith-Corona. He sighs and replaces
the colorful brochure with the grim accident report. As he
types, Polly reads his calendar to him, undaunted by Brody’s
This is in no order of importance,
Chief: There’s a meeting on the
Amity Town Council on Aging this
Monday night, Bentoncourt Hall.
The Fire Inspector wants you to go
over the fireworks site with him
before he catches the one o’clock
ferry. Mainly, you have a batch
of calls about that new Karate
20 CLOSE – ACCIDENT REPORT
Brody has just typed the girl’s name. He skips the space for
Cause-of-Death, and just under it types the Next-of-Kin in-
formation he has collected from her wallet.
Searle’s Rent-a-Bike, the Rainy
Ale, Tisberry’s Hardware…they
say it’s those nine-year-olds
from the school practicing karate
on all those nice picket fences.
The phone rings and Polly picks it up.
It’s the Coroner. Somebody pass
away in the night?
Brody nestles the phone between ear and collar, listening,
as he turns to the typewriter.
21 INSERT – ACCIDENT REPORT
Cause-of-Death line rolls into place. The hammers punch
out: SHARK ATTACK.
leans forward, staring at what he just wrote. Polly c**ks
her head and removes the phone from his ear.
What’s the matter?
Brody takes a breath. A new resolve comes over him.
Polly, I want to know what water
recreation the Island fathers have
on for today.
Right this minute?
Brody gets up and moves hastily toward the door.
23 BRODY’S OUTER OFFICE
Cassidy and Hendricks look up as Brody enters.
Where’d you hide the ‘Beach Closed’
We never had any. What’s the problem?
A local merchant comes through the door.
Glad I caught you. There’s a city
truck with New Hampshire plates
parked right in front of my….
Brody pushes past him and out the door.
24 EXTERIOR – AMITY MAIN STREET – DAY
In the busy center of a town preparing for the big Fourth
of July weekend, Brody wends his way around sidewalk activ-
ity, purpose and haste in each stride. As he turns a corner
a little man in a white smock emerges from the Funeral Parlor.
This is Carl Santos, Amity’s part-time coroner. Santos
looks both ways before crossing Colonial Drive.
Brody passes Keisel’s Bicycle Rental, navigating an awkward
course through an odd assortment of Schwinns that line the
sidewalk in front of a demolished white picket fence.
Keisel intercepts Brody on the run.
Eight to ten years old. Average
size about five-four, otherwise
the overhand chops would be higher
up on the fences. And I have a
pretty damn good idea who two of
the little bastards are.
Call me later in the afternoon,
25 ANGLE – AMITY GAZETTE NEWSPAPER OFFICE – PORCH
Santos emerges with Ben Meadows, the stylish, late-thirties
editor of the Amity Gazette. Together they cut a beeline for
the other side of the street.
25-A ANGLE – AMITY STREET
Past taverns and chowder shacks, past bleacher construction
and July Fourth posters, Brody enters Lynwood’s Hardware and
Sporting Goods…so overstocked that beach umbrellas, alumi-
num deck chairs, and rainbow beach towels splash a surplus
of color from the display window to the sidewalk.
26 INTERIOR – LYNWOOD’S HARDWARE & SPORTING GOODS – DAY
The store proprietor is busy at work on an inventory list
with a mainland delivery man.
Stuff’s no good to me in August
when the Pilgrims come in June…
Go on and help yourself to what-
ever you need, Chief. Can you
work the register?
27 EXTERIOR – LYNWOOD’S – DAY
Brody emerges with enough poster-board, wooden stakes, nails,
paint, and brushes to close every beach on the island. He
starts back the way he came when Hendricks shoots up the
street in the patrol jeep. He stops fast enough to call
attention, leans out the window.
(he has fully
read the report)
I sent Sammy out ahead of me to the
South Chop beach until I can make
up the signs.
Let Polly do the printing.
There’s a Scout troop in Avril Bay
doing the mile swim for their
Merit Badges. I couldn’t call
them in, there’s no phones out
Oh, brother! Gimme the keys, Lenny.
Brody leaps behind the wheel as Hendricks steps out.
28 EXTERIOR – VAUGHN’S REALTY – DAY
A secretary is removing four 8 x 10 glossies of beachfront
houses from the display window, revealing Larry Vaughn, the
Mayor of Amity, exchanging anxieties with Ben Meadows and
Coroner Santos and two other city Selectmen. They come out
in a group, reach the sunlight, and squint down the street
as Brody careens around the corner and out of sight. Deputy
Hendricks, laden with his arts and crafts, passes them on
the street front.
What have you got there, Lenny?
We had a shark attack at South
Chop this morning, Mayor. Fatal.
Gotta batten down the beach.
Vaughn and group exchange horrified looks, but we get the
impression it is not in response to the shark-attack news.
Who’ve you told this to, Lenny?
I just found out about it — but
there’s a bunch of Boy Scouts in
the water a coupla miles down the
coast from where we found the girl.
Avril Bay, thereabouts. Chief
went to dry them off.
Take my car, okay?
You come with us, Lenny.
I’ve got all these signs here….
C’mon, it’ll give us time to think
about what they’re going to say.
They all crowd into a Cadillac El Dorado with Vaughn Realty
signs on the doors.
29 EXTERIOR – AVRIL BAY – DAY
A flotilla of twenty exhausted Boy Scouts round a lifebuoy
that marks the quarter-mile. A rowboat with Scoutmaster and
bullhorn keeps pace.
30 ON THE BEACH
Two older Seascouts time the event with stop watches, and a
couple of dozen parents look on, shading their eyes. Brody’s
jeep pulls up in the background and stops. He gets out and
starts down to the breakwater when the Mayor’s Cadillac pulls
up and skids to a stop.
Brody pauses momentarily as Mayor Vaughn emerges, trying to
affect an easygoing appearance. Reaching Brody, he slips an
arm around his shoulder, trying to slow him as Brody leads
the gang toward the breakwater and the slogging Scouts.
Where are you going to get the
authority to close the beaches?
Brody stops. He sees pitiful Hendricks standing by the car
with the signboard material. Brody begins to slow burn.
Are you asking me as the Mayor, or
as a Real Estate broker, or our of
friendly interest, or what, Larry?
I just want you aware of what you’re
doing before you tinker with the life
blood of all those sage and discriminating
souls who elected you. Next week’s the
goddam Fourth of July! We’ve got a couple
thousand summer people coming over here
who will gladly use the Cape Cod beaches
if they can’t use ours.
So what you’re suggesting is we lay out
a smorgasbord for the shark. All you can
eat for the price of a weekend on Amity
We’re not even sure it was a shark.
What else could do that?!
(to Coroner Santos)
Swims way out…night…fishing boat
comes along —
both of them)
What is this?
We’ve never had shark trouble here,
Martin. They don’t come in close. No
reefs, or fish-processing plants, slaughter
houses. Nothing to keep it interested.
You print whatever you want.
Martin, sharks are like ax-murderers.
People react to them with their guts.
Brody looks toward the open water. The Boy Scouts have made
a turn and are passing the lifebuoy marking the three-quarter
Whatever was out there is miles out
to sea by now. Sharks don’t have
swim bladders like most fish — they
have to keep moving or drown. Don’t
you know anything about them?
I…don’t go around the water much.
It’s one chance in a million this’ll
Look at that…safe and sound.
The Boy Scouts are emerging exhausted; some flop down on their
backs, happy it is over. Brody considers this.
Had you yelled ‘shark,’ those Cub
Scouts would have broken the free-
style record for the hundred-meter,
then busted our backs with word of
If that’s the test case for your
million-to-one shot, I’m glad I lost.
Vaughn feels secure that Brody will not act in haste. He puts
a hand on his shoulder, turns and walks him toward the cars.
Listen, Chief — the funniest thing —
you know the white picket fence
around my realty office….
31 CLOSE QUINT
Rising like Neptune from out of the deep, Quint walks the
sidewalk in the pool of his own shadow. He is a sleek and
sinewy specimen, inches over six feet, and with a face making
it hard to determine where the scars leave off and the wrinkles
begin, though he is no older than fifty.
Quint seems to be heading for the local tavern when a crunch
of seafaring fishermen pour out, forming an impenetrable knot
around the sidewalk in front of him. One of them sees Quint,
who approaches with no intention of slowing down. The seven
fishermen never give it a second thought, they part like the
Red Sea, clearing a beeline trail to the bar doors. Quint
bursts through their obliging ranks and turns into the Music
store. The tiny bell jingles daintily. Two of the Portu-
guese fishermen spit three times, taking no chances.
32 INT. AMITY MUSIC STORE – DAY
Quint brushes against the counter. The shopkeeper is helping
a ten year old boy fix a new reed to his clarinet. The little
boy produces a mellow low tone, then wonderingly rides the
scale. With little or no effort, Quint’s gnarled hand floats
up and drops like a sledge on the service bell. The shop-
keeper’s eyes pop up, the kid hits a bad note and squeaks.
Four spools number twelve piano wire.
Catch any monsters lately, Mr. Quint?
Quint’s eyes never leave the little boy. He is drilling him
with a sidelong whammy. The boy feels Quint nailing him and
a ragged assortment of squeaks, blurps and missed notes over-
ride the sounds of the shopkeeper unspooling the piano wire.
33 INTERIOR BRODY’S STUDY AT HOME – SUNSET
A riffly blur, color alternating with black and white. The
dizziness stops on a book page showing a black and white
rendering of eight species of shark. The banner at the top
of the page reads: THE KNOWN AND REPUTED MANEATERS.
The riffling begins again, stops on a grizzly photograph of
scar tissue on six former shark victims. Riffling — stop.
Photograph of five Ichthyologists posing on wooden stools,
framed by the enormous jaws of a prehistoric shark from the
family Carcharodon charcharias.
his reading glasses reflecting a stack of twelve library books,
all on the subject of sharks and shark attacks. The door
opens and Ellen enters, quietly, in respect for Brody’s mood.
Can you stand something to eat?
Love a cup of tea. With lemon.
Ellen walks past Brody to the window and looks out the window
which overlooks the south bay. It is the hour of dusk.
Mikey loves his birthday present.
Where is he?
(with a slight laugh)
He’s sitting in it.
Brody gets up, concerned, and joins her at the window.
Honey. He has it tied up to the
jetty with a double-knot.
35 BRODY’S POINT OF VIEW
Michael is sitting in the boat, but two of his young school
chums are in the water, swimming around it. Brody opens the
window and calls down:
Son! — Out of the water now!
My boat’s neat, Dad!
(turning to Ellen)
Tell him I want him out of the ocean.
It’s three feet deep, Martin. You
said that shark was half way back
Michael! Come inside the house!
It’s his birthday tomorrow.
I told him not to go out until he
memorized the handbook, safety reg-
ulations and —
Ellen’s eyes drift down to the open book. One large text is
open to a page of illustrations. Among them is the famous
painting, The Gulf Stream, which depicts a black fisherman
in a small dinghy much like Michael’s, being assaulted by the
pressing jaws of three man-eaters. Startled, Ellen closes the
book, opens the window and sticks her head out.
You heard your father! Out now!
36 EXT. BEACH – DAY
A jelly-bowl woman visitor to Amity’s beaches plunges head-
long into the white foam. There’s enough of her stuffed
into a one-piece bathing suit to sate the appetite of any
shark for weeks. Remarkably buoyant, she chops at the water
revealing other cheerful Sunday bathers trying to enjoy the
last uncluttered weekend before the holiday crowds.
37 ANGLE – MARTIN BRODY AND ELLEN
Brody is balefully alert this morning, sitting straight-
back in his beach chair, coating the swimming area with
careful looks. About ten other adults and a dozen children
attend this casual birthday get-together.
I don’t envy you this summer, Chief.
Every year the swarms get worse.
I know now why there’s not a sane
Parisian left in Paris from July to
Brody hears a SCREAM from the water. He cranes his neck past
Max’s wife in order to see.
38 BRODY’S POINT OF VIEW
A young lady is being pulled underwater to her hair. Instantly,
she is jerked up again — sitting on her boyfriend’s shoulders,
Did you say something?
No — yeah, I was wondering if it’s
true. That you sit in your car
the whole while over on the
39 BRODY’S POINT OF VIEW
His son Michael along with sever other boys rush headlong
into the gentle surf with their inflatable rubber rafts.
Another youngster, Alex Kintner gathers up his Day-Glow yellow
raft, but his mother takes issue and a tug-of-war ensues.
MAX’S WIFE ALEX
What a terrible thing to say. Please let me take my
C’mon Penny, I’m not ashamed MOTHER
to admit that when I fly, my Let me see your fingertips.
feet sweat right through my (he holds them out)
socks. They’re beginning to prune.
Ten more minutes.
40 BRODY’S POINT OF VIEW
The fat woman is going out too far.
We stay on the fat woman, almost hypnotically.
I can’t believe it! Brody!
41 CLOSE – BRODY
Snapping out of it. Looks up at the dripping Selectman.
How’s the water?
(to Ellen who
walks over and
sits next to Brody)
How’d you do it — getting him to
It’s Michael’s birthday.
Hope we get this weather next
42 BRODY’S POINT OF VIEW
The fat woman is not where he last remembered seeing her. He
sort of rises to one knee, his eyes combing the surf.
(kissing him on
Do you want me to call the boys in?
Honey, if this worries you —
Does this — mortal fear of the
water have a clinical name, Martin?
(throwing it away)
43 EXT. UNDERWATER – DAY
A fish-eye view of people lying on rafts. From below we see
the outlines of swimmers, arms and legs dangling tantalizingly
in the blue water. Traveling this way from raft to raft,
there comes a space of open water followed by a quick view of
a single raft. A pair of feet kicking and arms paddling produces
bizarre underwater vibrations, louder than human ears would
44 ANGLE – SURFACE
The fat lady floating on her back, wearing pink sunglasses.
A black object surfaces next to her. It emerges as a bather
in a black bathing cap.
45 ANGLE – ALEX – WATER LEVEL
paddling in circles, making motorboat sounds.
46 ANGLE – TWO LOVERS
kissing, drawing each other below the surface.
47 ANGLE – BRODY’S SON
separating from his friends, eating a huge piece of cake
and trying to steer with the other hand.
48 ANGLE – GROUP OF KIDS ON RUBBER RAFTS
They begin a water fight, slapping at the ocean with karate-
type blows, sending little explosions of water at each other.
Then, no more than ten feet beyond the fighting, a genuine
water eruption upstages the child’s play. Everybody turns
just as the ocean flattens itself out again. A pug-faced
over-sized twelve year old named “P.J.” renews the fighting
with a genuine Karate yell.
He hits the water, which sprays all over another youngster.
50 CLOSE – MATHEW
His face dripping with red rivulets.
51 CLOSE – P.J.
Looks down at his hand. The water surrounding all the boys
is slick with blood.
52 ANGLE – SHOREFRONT
People begin to congregate around an older gentleman, definitely
a mainlander by his outfit.
It came out of the water. Didn’t
anybody else see it?
53 CLOSE – BRODY
He stands all the way up this time. Parents begin calling —
a frantic inventory for lost children up and down the beach.
Brody is on the move, barreling to the shoreline. He kicks
up sand passing Alex’ mother, who looks up from her novel
(top of his lungs)
MICHAEL — ! EVERYBODY OUT OF THE
WATER!! MICHAEL — !
Other names from hysterical parents as the panic of a yet
unseen tragedy rises.
54 ANGLE – MICHAEL
Appears from the shoot of a breaking wave. He is all right
but the wave that curls after him carries the shredded pieces
of the Day-Glow yellow raft. The foam that breaks wide on
the sandy beach is tinged with pink.
55 INTERIOR – THE COUNTY COURTHOUSE AND COUNTY OFFICES – DAY
A crowd of men and women in an angry tangle outside of Brody’s
office. These are the shop owners, real estate brokers,
hotel managers and Selectmen of the Island.
Through the windows, the Southbeach High School Band is
practicing for the Fourth of July Parade.
Brody and Vaughn exit Brody’s office and enter the fray.
I’m glad everyone could make this
meeting. Why don’t we wander
down the hall to my office where
All follow Brody and Vaughn. Meadows pushes through the
crunch to speak.
Don’t keep us in suspense Mayor.
What’s the verdict?
Vaughn cannot bring himself to say it right away.
Larry and I have agreed to close
all beaches for a limited period
of time to give us a chance to
contact the Port Authority and
United States Coast Guard out on
Well, that could take all summer!
We never agreed to that.
I do a thrifty business her but
I’ll not see it flourish at the
price of any more lives.
Three reservations cancelled and
I still have August rentals open.
So do I, Martha, so do I.
They reach Vaughn’s office. It is being painted. Newspapers
are strewn all over the floor and paint-splattered tarps over
the furniture. Vaughn’s secretary still dutifully takes calls.
Larry, two Newsday reporters and
one from the New York Times, cal-
ling every 15 minutes.
Good people, nobody saw a shark.
What they’ll print is maybe it was
Oh wonderful, and what we’ll have
is maybe a summer.
Town’ll lose tax revenue, municipal
services’ll deteriorate, the
people’ll begin to move away. Oh,
I don’t care. I never raised my
kids to be somebody’s lunch.
We have no way of keeping the lid
on what happened yesterday. There
were well over a hundred bathers
on the beach, three-quarters of
them from the mainland.
Vaughn leads the way down the hall toward the Bureau of Records
I’m not interested in participating
in any cover-up Mayor.
I wouldn’t worry too much about
that, Max. The President himself
couldn’t stop the mushrooming at
Selectman Denherder almost whispers in Vaughn’s ear.
But couldn’t we just say the kid
We couldn’t even find the little
Vaughn opens the door to the Bureau of Records. About two
dozen children sit around, twisting multi-colored Kleenex
into artificial flowers for the big parade. Vaughn turns
his face into a condescending grin.
Could the big people have a grownup
meeting in here, please, children.
A voice from behind Vaughn draws him away. It is a small
but muscular black man named Salvatore.
He steps out of the shadows, hat in hand.
Mister Quint sent me down from
Well…he out catchin’ them things
every day practily. Price’s right,
he come catch yours here.
What’s he get?
Ten thousand and a color TV.
Twenty-seven inch. Japanese one.
Vaughn studies the little blinking man, ready to laugh.
Mister Quint’s services are not
(stopping a secretary)
Is there an empty office anywhere
in this goddam building?
Weights and Measures nobody ever
Vaughn starts away and the crowd follows.
I’d haul it in myself before I’d
pay anything to that maniac…you
wanna hear what he did to three
friends of mine on a Saint Valentine’s
Day sporting charter?
They are halted in their tracks by the grim appearance of
Mrs. Kintner and her benign father. She is dressed in church
white with a black arm band. Mrs. Kintner never says a word.
She has just tacked something to the community bulletin board
and is walking through the parting crowd. With sympathy, all
watch her leave, then press up to the cork board. Brody
fights his way through everyone until we are standing over
his shoulder, staring at a homemade poster that offers:
“ALL OR A FRACTION OF $3000 BOUNTY
TO THE MAN OR MEN WHO CATCH AND
SLAUGHTER THE SHARK THAT SAVAGED
ALEX M. KINTNER, JR. ON SUNDAY,
JUNE 29 IN THE TOWN OF AMITY.”
Listen, Larry, I’m going to talk
to her. This isn’t a contest we
want everybody from Boston to
I agree. If she’s going to adver-
tise, I wouldn’t recommend out-of-
city papers. There’s enough of
us here in Amity could take care
Larry, I’m responsible for the
public safety around here….
So I think tomorrow you should go
out with whoever, and see that
they don’t get hurt.
But nobody sport-fishes for shark!
No one will listen. Already plans are being discussed, sides
chosen, boats, tackle and tactics recommended. The din
overrules Brody, who we pull close to and —
56 INT. QUINT’S CHUM SHED – DAY
A naked 100-watt bulb illuminates the electric grinder purring
in one corner. The slick black carcass of a pilot whale
dominates the lighted area.
Quint is hacking slabs off the whale with his Marine machete
as his mate, Salvatore rolls an empty barrel to the grinder.
Where you find this whale anyway?
Way out. Dead as a doornail.
How come harpoon holes in him?
Quint doesn’t reply as he hacks away. The mate rolls away
a full barrel.
You hardly never use this chummin’
For some kinds.
Quint muscles a new slab into the grinder, slowing it to a
low growl as it purees the blubber.
Go hose the deck, we’re chartered
for nine a.m.
Think it’s one of those they got
Quint’s grim smile is reply enough. Salvatore, looking worried,
indicates some barrels full of whale pulp.
Load these on or what?
Quint is hacking revenge from the mutilated carcass. He spits
away the dripping perspiration.
‘Not required’…you heard the
Just a regular charter tomorrow…
I’ll keep this on ice for a while.
57 ANGLE – QUINT’S MARINE CORP MACHETE
Chop, chop, chop….
58 A SHOVEL
whump, whump, whump…pounding the sharpened standard into
the sand. The sign reads: NO SWIMMING OR WADING — Amity
59 SUNSET ON THE BEACH
Hendricks and another deputy are assisting Brody. Silhouettes
of townspeople look on like mourners at a funeral.
In the background some workmen are taking down the shutters
from a quaint summer cottage. They pause to watch the
declining moments of the day.
Three Selectmen also stand watching. One of them seems to be
whispering bounty news to three youngish men on a nearby
Sounds: Surf and hammering.
60 EXTERIOR – GRASSY INLET AND PIER – NIGHT
Selectman Denherder and his buddy, Charlie, a professional
angler, push a wheelbarrow ahead of them as they near the
tumble-down jetty that leads fifty feet out into the black
water. Both men scuff along, exhausted.
You wanna call it a night after
It’s only two-thirty. What, are
Yeah, Charlie, I got my second wind
three nibbles back.
Denherder hefts a bloodstained laundry bag from the wheel-
barrow, revealing about a hundred feet of coiled dog chain
and a large patched inner tube. Charlie takes out a monster
hook and together they push the wheelbarrow onto the rickety
pier that is only about five feet across.
(reaching into the bag)
Leg of lamb this time?
Screw lamb — let’s shoot the sirloin!
(a hyena laugh)
We’re blowin’ half the bounty on
The splintered pier sways to and fro as the men reach the
end and start to work. Charlie baits the hook with a massive
chunk of sirloin while Denherder secures the loose end of
chain to a skinny piling. Charlie then fastens the inner tube
to the chain five feet from the end of the hook.
One more after this, then I’m going
Denherder tugs the chain against the piling to prove that it
is. Charlie heaves the bait. Splash! The inner tube follows
and both men eagerly watch as it floats seaward, the chain
playing out from the wheelbarrow.
Tide’s taking it right out.
Charlie lights his pipe and sits back against a piling. He
turns on his transistor radio and loops one end around a
fractured board. Denherder paces, bored to death.
You do this all the time, right,
I can’t believe that people pay
money to go fishing. This is really
dumb. This isn’t even relaxing…
it’s just boring.
61 CLOSE – CHAIN IN WHEELBARROW
Suddenly zipping out, faster and faster, as both men straighten.
Denherder is goggle-eyed.
Hey! What’s this?
The chain is coming out so fast that it begins to drag the
wheelbarrow to the end of the jetty. A section of chain
tangles around the handle and flips the entire machine into
the air. Both men watch dumbfounded as the inner tube, racing
out to sea in a wake of white water, suddenly dips under.
Look at him take it!
Do I set the goddam hook?
Let him do it! Go-go-go-go-go!
It is then that the chain whips taut against the narrow pilings.
62 CLOSE – PILING
A lineup of five decrepit 2 x 4 inch pilings SNAP with a
63 ANGLE – JETTY
The end of the jetty is yanked loose. Denherder is flipped
like a chip over the side and into the cold night water, where
he manages to snag hold of a splintered timber.
64 DENHERDER’S POINT OF VIEW
The severed section of jetty, a joined platform of footboards,
is being dragged seaward with Charlie sitting dazed on top of
it, his lit pipe still going.
Charlie rolls into the water, sputters, turns to watch the
flotilla of wood draw away.
65 CLOSE – CHARLIE
66 CHARLIE’S POINT OF VIEW
The end of the jetty makes a 180-degree turn and heads back
in his direction.
Holy Jesus Christ!
Denherder steps up on the broken-off piling just to be out of
Get the hell out! Charlie! Swim!
Charlie, inhaling terror, trying to slog to shore. The jetty
is getting closer. Suddenly the chain dragging it through the
water is severed, and the charging wood falls behind — an
enormous black fin breaks water like a periscope, making course
corrections as it comes for Charlie.
Denherder jumps from piling to piling, almost losing his balance
on his way to help Charlie. Charlie has reached the last pylon
toward open sea, and his hands clamber for a hold. But —
67 INSERT – CHARLIE’S HANDS
The algae is too slippery, and his fingers keep sliding back.
That’s when the fin behind him seems to reach up to the sky
and — CHARLIE SCREAMS. An explosion of water and bubbles
mercifully blot out the image.
68 EXTERIOR – AMITY HARBOR – DAWN
Ben Gardner, ruddy faced and ornery, is a fisherman as sea-
worthy as they come. With his make, Swede, he starts to
board the Flicka, a Bertram 28 Sports Fisherman. Absently,
he makes preparations for casting off, his attention focused
on surrounding dockside activity and —
69 HIGH ANGLE – HARBOR
Chaos. A dozen cars and trucks double-parked on the dock with
out-of-state plates from New Jersey, Rhode Island, Connecticut.
Other vehicles are pulling up and parking. Men unloading their
weapons. Boarding small boats.
A queue of up-islanders, down-islanders, out-of-towners at the
boat rental shack. From rank amateurs in their green golf
slacks to the alley-poor in levi tatters — all of this dis-
dainfully observed by Ben Gardner.
Cries of “Cast Off,” the starting of diesel engines in con-
trast to the flooded baby Evenrudes — all of this helped
along by a lot of honcho swearing.
70 CLOSE – HARBORMASTER
Sleepy, the old salt bends over the dock, washing out his
coffee pot in the oily harbor water. He sets down the pot,
pulls a small wooden chair into position, on which teeters a
bowl of Kellogg’s Rice Krispies, and collapses into it with
spoon in hand. He watches stoically as:
71 CLOSE – BRODY
Riding up on his police bicycle, Brody joins Deputy Hendricks
who is trying to break up an argument at the Rental stand.
Christ, Martin, that Kintner lady
must have taken out an ad in Field
Looks more like the Harvard Lampoon.
I didn’t come all the way out here
from New Rochelle to be gouged in
the seat of the pants by this loan
BOAT RENTAL MAN
Prices always go up around here
after June One — isn’t that right,
Chief? If you want leaky boats at
lower rates, go up to the Hamptons.
72 ANGLE FROM ONE OF THE BOUNTY BOATS
The narrow channel leading out of port lies ahead. An incoming
boat, a Formula 22 Inboard/Outboard with 110 h.p. Volvo engines.
A few of the smaller craft begin zig-zagging to clear the right-
of-way, their wakes causing annoying chop in the bay.
73 ANGLE – INCOMING FORMULA 22
Matt Hooper, a bearded, backpacking young man, is at the helm,
peering ahead at the ragtag armada. He ties up, revealing for
the first time a seven-by-four foot steel cage in the stern,
drawing some attention.
74 BACK TO DOCKSIDE
Another man and his two buddies heft a trash can into one
of the boats. He lifts the lid, and the stench throws his
head into near whiplash.
What is this sewage?
For chum. Let’s move it.
Anything that attracts ’em.
Brody looks over the dockrail at the boarding. Eight men
have piled into a tiny Glasstron and are now loading various
and sundry weapons, from crossbows to spear guns. Brody
walks over to the harbormaster.
Isn’t there a limit to how many
men those boats’ll carry?
Sit down next to me, son, and we’ll
75 CLOSE – GARDNER
exchanging distasteful looks with his mate. He is casting
off the bow lines just as Felix and Pratt, two down-island
characters run over.
(more a declaration)
Okay, we go out with you.
Gardner quickly pushes off, leaving Felix with his boarding
leg in the air.
Hunt with the pack, sport. I’ll
fish for it my way.
Felix and Pratt make obscene gestures and run off, looking
for boats not yet filled to capacity, trying to make a deal.
76 ANGLE – LANDING
Hooper sees Brody, up in arms about something, walking toward
him. Hooper starts to speak, but Brody veers aside and yells
over the pier at the loading boats.
No dynamite! Hand that stuff over
or you’ll never leave port!
MAN IN BOAT
It’s fireworks. I read somewhere
it attracts ’em.
Sharks are equipped with two long
cords of nerve tissue that function
as a sort of radar for homing in on
Understand you’re having a little
Brody turns and walks away, Hooper barely keeping up with him.
I know you have a visitor off your
southern shores. I think it could
be my shark.
It belongs to whoever catches it.
(to a late arrival)
You’ll move this car to a parking
slot, mister, or it won’t be here
when you get back.
Sir, I’m not with these others —
It’s always nice to meet an educated
I’m interning at the American
Museum of Natural History, but the
Oceanographic Research Institute in
South Africa is co-sponsoring my
thesis paper arm in arm with the
Natural Institute of Health and the
Marine Fishery Service.
Brody pauses to look hard at Hooper. A careless amateur trips and
into the harbor beyond him.
I don’t have time to help you with
Brody goes over to lend a hand. Hooper persists.
I’m trying to prove that the shark
that killed Christine Watkins last
Friday was the same rogue that
Hooper pushes a mimeographed sheet in front of Brody. About
twenty names and addresses in all.
One shark did all this?
he goes on)
The trail of a rogue shark leads
all over the world. This is only
a theory. It has never been authen-
ticated, but there is a wonderful
chance that the shark that killed
the Watkins girl and the man-eater
I tagged off the Great Barrier Reef
are the one and the same. Off and on
I’ve tracked it to New Zealand,
Santiago Bay, Cape Town South Africa
…uh…the Gulf of Guinea, then
West Palm Beach, Florida last
December — and finally predicted
it would follow the warming Gulf
Stream into the Northern Seasonal
Zones, and release an attack pattern
along the Jersey Coast. I was off
by just three hundred miles. It
hit you instead.
You’ll pardon me i f I don’t help
you get your Ph.D. while my town here
degenerates into some high-class
Brody starts away. In the background all boats are heading
toward open ocean.
All I’m asking is for a little future
cooperation. I could predict future
outbursts of attack activity in the
area. Use me…Let me use you. I
scored 93 on my Orals, for crying
We’ve had two other attacks since
the Watkins thing, both fatal.
Could you kill it for us?
No sir, I couldn’t.
Then how do we begin to cooperate?
By letting me see Christine Watkins.
77 EXTERIOR – OCEAN – DAY
The armada is spread out and moving in a ragged circle, fif-
teen boats in all. One man heaves cherry bombs into the water.
A smaller boat going in the opposite direction offers us
Barwood, forking spaghetti leftovers into the ocean while his
friend pours out a bottle of ketchup.
A speedboat chugs by, one of the occupants reading instructions
aloud from a book entitled “Sharks – East Coast, Vol. I.”
A boatload of impoverished scallop fishermen throw a net over-
board, full of gaps and split ends. The professionals look
professional, but the landlubbers out for the $3000 make it
impossible for everybody. Collisions are barely averted.
78 THE RUBE GOLDBERG ERROR
84 The Out-of-Towner in a small boat is bent over in a life and
death struggle, his rod in a tight arc. His buddy leaps across
to lend a hand.
Twenty yards away in another boat the same struggle ensues.
This time it’s the overloaded boat with the poor scallop fisher-
men. Shouts of I’M ON! DIG IN! STRIKE! Then a tangle of
tackle springs from the water. They have hooked each other.
Joy turns to swearing. Arnold Felix stands up to applaud the
mishap, while his buddy Pratt takes careful aim with his
Remington 1100 12-gauge and blasts at the tackle as if it were
a clay pigeon. The tangle explodes —
Both the Out-of-Towners and the Scallop Fisherman falls over
The Scallop boat swerves right, and bows into an eleven-foot
A Proud Mariner standing in the stern with his 30.06 is
knocked off balance and pitches forward into the drink, his
gun exploding outward and —
The wad of shot from the exploding rifle hits the rigging of
a passing boat sending the jib, mains’l and about twenty
pounds of rigging on top of the bewildered occupants.
85 ANGLE – HARRY’S BOAT
Three men are aboard, one holding a rod which holds a fast
arc. A few yards off stern we see a triangular dorsal fin
crossing back and forth, struggling, jerking, the mighty tail
threshing. One man is screaming success, the other two slapping
the angler on the back.
86 CLOSE – PRATT AND FELIX
They spot it and sour.
Well, get over there! He ain’t
caught it yet!
The owner of Pratt’s boat throws it forward and Pratt removes
a .45 automatic from the holster of his belt. He tests it,
firing once in the air. As they near the scene of the struggle,
eleven other boats begin converging, until —
87 HARRY’S BOAT
Everyone wants to get into the act. They are attacking the
threshing beast with all they’ve got. Pratt uses his auto-
matic, another blasts point blank with a shotgun. There are
occasional water ricochets and the bounty hunters duck from
time to time as bullets skip by. Finally, the shark stops
88 FELIX AND PRATT
Their boat has moved close to the shark, closer than Harry’s.
Hand me that pole! Quick!
One of his party in the over-filled boat grabs a gaff and
leans out to grab the moribund shark. But Harry won’t give
up the line, still reeling in.
Beat it! I hooked him!
How’s the family, Harry?
(to the man with gaff)
Go on and do it!
MAN WITH GAFF
We split down the middle?
Pratt nods reluctantly. The man swings, lodges the gaff and
hauls the shark up onto the gunwale. A paroxysm of cheers
from the surrounding boats. Smoke flares are fired into
Let go my shark!
It is a ten-foot blue, and what a mess — splattered with
bullet punctures, gashes, bleeding from several orifices. But
it is not dead — it kicks back to life and threatens to cap-
size the boat. Pratt panics and fires six times with his .45.
The bullets pierce the shark’s head, pass through, and split
the fiberglass hull through which a flood of water rises. Every-
body stands up as the boat slips beneath them.
89 HIGH ANGLE FROM SHORE
On a hummock overlooking the cluster of boats stands Quint.
He is laughing out loud — a sharp, piercing bark that has
little real humor in it. Below, the circle of boats tighten
around the spreading stain of crimson.
90 INTERIOR – MORGUE – DAY
Hooper is measuring the bite marks on the Day-Glow raft with
his dial calibrators.
I’ll look at her now if you don’t
91 ANGLE – BRODY, CORONER SANTOS, HOOPER
Hooper scribbles notes, then mumbles something inaudible
into his pocket cassette recorder. Coroner Santos looks
to Brody, plaintively.
That was a different sort of acci-
dent. As I told you —
The coroner hesitates, then walks to the ice chest and slides
open the drawer.
92 CLOSE – HOOPER
At first his face registers shock. Then, with forced composure,
Hooper steadies his hands and begins to take pictures with his
I’ve heard the boat-propeller story
several times. And the nocturnal
hatchet-murder story, the dashed-
upon-the-razor-coral story —
The little boy was never found?
Brody nods, looking down at his feet.
They’re very successful creatures,
sharks. Eighty million year’s
antiquity for the species of the
Great White. The family goes as far
back as three-hundred million. Plenty
of time to get good at what they do.
An attendant flies into the room, joyfully out of wind.
They called from the dock, Mr. Brody!
They got it!
93 CLOSE – HOOPER
He appears stunned.
94 CLOSE – BRODY
enjoying a lightheadedness he hasn’t felt in weeks.
Want to see?
95 EXT. – BREAKWATER LEADING TO THE PUBLIC BATHING AREA – DAY
96 A PROCESSION OF TWENTY MEN
dragging the shark by a tail-rope from harbor to beach.
A dog follows, barking at the remains of the blue. As they
arrive at the beach Meadows takes charge. Talks to both his
photographer and the bounty hunters.
I want a good one for under the
headline — nearer the water. Get
a group shot with the shark. Use
it on page one, six inches by six
Some of the men have run ahead, happily knocking down some
of Brody’s NO SWIMMING signs.
Great! Bring one over here.
In the background; voices, laughter. Some joke about the
“big-time fisherman” — “Ben Gardner, not even back yet!”
Others open beer, throw frosty cans around, making it look
like a Miller’s commercial.
Meadows positions the shark and vigilantes.
Group around Charlie Tuna…that’s
right. No, leave it clear in back
— closer with the sign.
Brody and Hooper are seen approaching fifty yards up the
Smile, boys! On three, drop the
On three, Bill. One…two…three.
One more. Just the two prize-winners.
Mock groans as the posse moves aside. Pratt and the gaffer
remain. One of the others raises the sign again for take
I hooked him y’know?
In a little tighter please.
The gaffer doesn’t fancy sidling up to the critter.
Better check this bastard.
He starts to poke it in the eye. Pratt on the other side
leans forward for a closer look, gaff in hand. The gaffer
pokes the eye. The Blue shark is wide awake, a vicious
lunge in the opposite direction that snaps the gaff in
Pratt’s hand completely in half.
VOICE IN CROWD
Christ! Ain’t it dead?
Pratt squeezes out a little smile and shuffles eight feet
to his right out of range. Hooper and Brody walk into the
frozen tableau. Hooper walks over to the shark, eyeing it
with both amusement and disappointment.
No, this one’s a blue.
I hooked him.
Is it the one?
Hooper unravels a lab thermometer on a long nylon cord,
twirling it over his head like a lariat, finally hurling
it out into the ocean. He then unhooks a steel tape measure
from his bag of tricks and spools out feet and inches from
the shark’s nose to tail.
It’s sure big enough — ten point
Who is this guy?
Hooper is reeling in his thermometer.
(doesn’t want to say
The Institute of Sharks sent him
to lend a hand — Matt Hooper.
That’s right, except he’s half a
day late now that I already caught
reading the thermometer.
I’m not so sure. Blue sharks pretty
much operate on the warm-water law,
and limit their attacks to seventy
degrees and up.
(holding out thermometer)
(after a stymied beat)
Who is this guy?
The Great White’s body temperature
in the lateral musculature is almost
eighteen degrees above whatever the
temperature of the water. I don’t
know if this is our bite culprit.
(beginning to rave)
If you’d have seen the fight he put
up, you’d shut up. Hell, he ate a
nine-year-old boy yesterday morning,
the bastard, and goddammit…
(kicks the shark
in the nose)
…this is my shark!
Hooper removes from its sheath the meanest fourteen-inch
hunting knife Pratt has ever seen.
Only one way to know for sure…
(handing Pratt the
knife, handle first)
…and since it’s not my shark, I’m
not slitting open the belly to see
what portions of the boy is still
inside. Am I…?
Groans are heard from the bounty hunters, some of whom start
to turn away.
98 CLOSE – BRODY
Uncomfortable and queasy at the thought of it.
99 CLOSE – PRATT
He wraps his hands behind him in defiance of the proffered
Well, sh*t — this guy caught it
with me. And Harry over there
100 ANGLE – HARRY
starts to whistle up toward the clouds.
101 BACK TO HOOPER
as he poises the knife himself toward the underbelly and —
Not here, Mr. Hooper — This could be it. He’s big
enough all right, but I still
can’t be sure until —
— the boy’s mother.
102 POINT OF VIEW
Mayor Vaughn, Mrs. Kintner and her father approaching.
Mrs. Kintner is draped in black mourning, and never utters
a sound. She lifts her veil, walks two paces forward and
spits down at the shark, takes two paces back and replaces
the veil, recovering her poise.
I won’t know until I perform a
(sotto to Brody)
Who is this kid?
He’s a fish expert from the Oceano-
(looking him up and
down; in a wholly
Well, it doesn’t take much of an
expert to see that this is the big-
gest, ugliest, meanest-looking shark
ever hooked around Amity Island.
(to the gathering
Who caught her?
Harry steps forward, pointing.
This guy, Pratt, and me.
A thousand dollars apiece is not a
bad day’s haul.
Vaughn begins shaking hands with the three winners, and
Meadows snaps some bonus pictures. Mrs. Kintner’s father
draws close to Brody and Vaughn, handing Vaughn a card
from his pocket.
At whatever the cost, my daughter
has requested that all preparations
be made to ship this animal to her
home town of Marblehead, Mass. Can
you accommodate us?
What the devil for?
Nary a blink from the old man, and Vaughn looks to Hooper,
weighing the alternatives.
We’ll see it through, Mr. Sands.
Martin, you start collecting those
signs. And keep your friend away
from that demon with his pigsticker
there. Let’s show some respect for
the loss we’ve incurred.
(to Meadows; walking
him up the beach)
Get the story on the state wire.
Try to get AP and UPI to pick it
up in New York or Boston to put it
on the national. Call Dave Axelrod
in New York and tell him this is
from me, and he owes me one.
103 ANGLE – FATHER AND MRS. KINTNER
walking up the beach with Pratt, Harry and the gaffer follow-
kneels next to the shark, making a face at the wafting stench.
Some field you picked.
Well, there’s dolphins — but they
talk too much.
105 INT. RADIO ROOM – COAST GUARD STATION #4 – EVENING
One man is at the radio, another, a laundry-white officer,
walks toward Brody.
Can’t seem to raise your Mr. Gardner.
Maybe his radio is out. Or he could
have put in somewhere else.
He would have called his wife.
They walk out together, into an eerie dusk fog.
No point sending up a plane, huh?
I’ll get a patrol boat on it. If
you’d like to go —
I don’t do so hot on boats.
We’ll contact you down there if —
Brody, sharks are always around.
Blues, browns, makos, thousands —
Can’t you get rid of just one for
Where is it? How do we find it?
It shouldn’t come around again.
Odds are worse on the highways.
But you could protect the beach — !
I mean, you have access to —
We could put up a show. We could
give you spotters, but in where
the waves break, the water’s
cloudy and it’s hard to spot.
Or we could string out shark
repellent — sometimes it’s effec-
tive. But then, sometimes —
What do I do then? Pray for
We’re just the Coast Guard, Brody.
Brody walks into the fog until he disappears.
106 SLOW ANGLE – LIGHTHOUSE
Brody walking away from the station and lighthouse preoccupied
with a dozen alternative thoughts. A shattering blast from
the fog horn catches him unprepared and he nearly comes out
of his skin. Hands clasped to ears, he passes a sign that
can barely be seen through the fog: WARNING! FOG HORN CAN
BE DAMAGING TO YOUR HEARING!
107 EXTERIOR – FRONT PORCH OF BRODY’S HOUSE – NIGHT
Hooper is having after-dinner with Ellen and Martin
Brody, while a spectacular heat-lightning display colors the
night clouds and dances on the water miles out.
There’re good things to be said
about meshing. It’s worked in
Australia for years. Repellent’s
a myth. Now there’s a cable avail-
able charged with 7,000 amps that
could be strung along the entire
We have Kahlua, Mr. Hooper.
Matt. And I don’t drink alcohol,
but thank you.
(back to Brody)
We think the Great Whites possess
an electrical sense —
Michael walks in. He doesn’t smile after the Sunday
incident. He is quite dry this evening, and is in possession
of a ghastly watercolor of a shark tearing a man in two.
(shy, his eyes
Mrs. Pfister had us all draw
sharks in school today.
I told you not to wear that cracker-
jack ring. It’s too big — you’re
gonna catch it on something and
lose a finger.
This is a very good rendering,
Mike. Looks like a thresher.
Where’d you learn to draw him?
I — cheated, and found pictures
in one of Dad’s books.
Get bitten by the subject…or
just morbid curiosity?
More in the spirit of the public
Mrs. Pfister says if we have a bad
season, we could sell our pictures
to the tourists. We get to paint
through American History again
Ellen and Brody exchange worried looks. Hooper digs around
in his pocket for something, then looks through his satchel
You want me to speak to her tomorrow?
Hooper hands Michael a shark’s tooth on a wire necklace.
I picked this up in Macao. There’s
supposed to be a superstition about
these things — that if you keep it
with you, you’ll be safe from shark
Michael smiles for the first time, and a warm moment passes
between him and Hooper.
I gotta show this to Guber.
Don’t sleep with that on, son.
You’ll cut something in the night.
(squeezing his hand
across the table)
That was nice. Michael hasn’t
smiled since his birthday party
and that Kintner accident.
He was a witness?
referring to storm)
Yeah. Listen. I’m no crack meteor-
ologist, but I think we’re in store
for some surf.
Hope not. I’m longlining in the
morning. You should come along,
In case you haven’t caught the
island gossip, I never take baths
— just showers.
Aquaphobia or what? Mind if I
No. Here, wait.
Brody takes out a lighter as Hooper puts a twisted cigarette
in his mouth. Instead of inhaling, Hooper takes a long hit,
and it doesn’t take long for the shock to beat the aroma to
where Ellen and Martin sit.
(behind the hit)
I’m going to try and snag the old
boy with 3/32 of an inch stainless
steel aircraft cable.
I could throw your ass in jail for
Brought my own cage, thanks. If
this really is my shark, he’s got
a Peterson disc tag on his anal
fin. It can’t be seen from a boat.
(growing anger at
this young man’s
Once hooked, what then?
Hooper brightens and reaches into his duffel, pulling out
a shiny stainless steel object about the size of an alarm
Biotelemetry. It’s a radio collar.
I bell the cat and then follow him
anywhere. I’m trying to make a
deal with a satellite tracking
station at Houston, Texas.
Now let’s wait a minute. You have
him hooked, right?
(trying to be jovial)
Well, I’ll never take him without
a fight, but —
And you stick that — cigarette
case to his neck?
this is leading)
That’s the game plan.
Then you let it loose. You let
it go free.
Hooper sees where this has arrived. He swallows the roach
and takes a breath.
I know what you’re saying, Martin.
Your little lab experiment has
seen three innocent people killed
over the past three days.
Martin, it’s not his shark.
And your list makes me sick. You
carry it around with you like
you’re keeping score.
Nature has no conscience, Mr. Brody.
Oh, Christ. Whose side are you on?
You told me you’d help us get rid
What I said was, I’d help predict
future attacks in your area. If
this device works, the early warn-
ing to other shorefront resorts —
not just here, but anywhere it
ranges in the world —
I don’t give a crap about your
worldwide conquest. What about
right here? This town is going
under today! Where’s your humanity?
You could kill this thing for us,
flatten its ass and —
I’m staying at the Abilard Arms.
Hooper gathers his things, climbs into his backpack.
Smiles at Ellen and kisses her hand. Ellen smiles, not
yet recovered from embarrassment.
I really liked dinner.
He leaves. Ellen looks at her hand. Brody turns and sees
(it’s all she
Nobody kisses hands anymore.
If you stick that wet spot under
the black light at the Coney
Island Aquarium, they’ll let you
in for nothing.
108 EXTERIOR – ABOARD HOOPER’S BOAT – FOGGY DAY
The boat is slicing gentle swells into the flat water.
Hooper is mainlining from a big reel. Tuna-halibut clips
attached to each of the lines that bear hooks and floats
every ten yards. Large bait chunks are tossed into the
water. In the boat with him is Meadows, huddled in a
corner and trying to appear eager to learn. Hooper is
not cooperating. He storms around, upset and frustrated.
Okay. What’s the second species
of shark on your dangerous list?
Hooper opens the throttle half-speed, looking into the sonar
display that casts a green glow in the soupy weather. A
blip appears on the screen that draws a speculative hum from
Very deep — looks like a school.
(more to himself)
Mackerel. Really clumped together.
As the two huddle together in the green spill, Hooper touches
the throttle to increase speed, still slightly puzzled.
Staying right with us.
109 INSERT – SONAR ACTIVITY
And didn’t you say activity stops?
If any of those whoppers are
Tends to. Gets very still down
110 CLOSE – MEADOWS
looks up from the scope, and his expression turns to horror.
Hooper looks up in time to avert a near collision with Ben
Gardner’s boat, the Flicka.
It is completely awash, with water in the c**kpit right up
to the gunwales. Seat cushions and hatch covers float about,
banging and thumping. The boat is wallowing and it seems
that, given a touch more weight, it will sink.
That’s Ben Gardner’s boat! Ben!
Hooper comes up alongside, cuts his engine and goes forward
to tie his bowline to a forward cleat on the Flicka.
111 INSERT – SONAR SCOPE
Bigger blips, both visually and audibly.
Taking note of this, Hooper stands a moment trying to figure
out what could have done this. There doesn’t seem to be any
damage fore or aft. Then he notices that one of the after
cleats on the Flicka has been torn away…there are scars
on the wood where the screws are used to hold the cleats down.
(skin crawling from
the foggy stillness)
He must have hit something…I’m
sure they had life-belts on board.
Hooper nods toward the water.
112 ANGLE – WATER
We see life-belts and jackets floating in the unearthly
113 HOOPER – WIDE
He gingerly steps onto the rail of Flicka, peeks into the
c**kpit and cabin. Awash. No sign of life. He puts more
weight down as he cranes his neck further and the whole
boat lists to one side. Hooper leaps back to his own.
114 ANOTHER ANGLE – HOOPER’S BOAT
He opens a locker and pulls out a wet suit and other gear.
Maybe we should just tow it in.
I’d better see the damage first.
115 INSERT – SONAR SCANNER
Blip, blop, blip, blip.
116 CLOSE – MEADOWS
suddenly cold, zips up his windbreaker and turns the collar
up, as Hooper zips up his wetsuit and clasps on a weighted
Did he have a dinghy on board?
out of here)
I don’t know.
Hooper hyper-ventilates as he places on mask, checks his
I’d rather we just towed it in,
Hooper finishes hyper-ventilating…smiles to reassure him.
Be up in a minute.
He’s ready to go, but hesitates a moment, staring out at the
sea — the first time Hooper has appeared to be doubting his
next move. He shakes it off, takes a huge breath, lets out
half and splashes in….
117 ANGLE – MEADOWS
all alone in the boat. Just he and the active sonar. He
checks the second-hand sweep of his watch, counting out loud.
118 UNDERWATER SEQUENCE – HOOPER
Hooper descends in a froth of bubbles. Warily he turns a
full circle with his hotlight. At first we see nothing out
of place about the Flicka except that it is lying so low
in the water. But as Hooper travels the bottom looking for
damage, he comes across a jagged hole two-thirds of the way
forward. The hole is about the size of a basketball, and
the wood around it has been bashed and splintered. Hooper
explores the hole with his hands, then takes the knife from
its sheath and begins to dig at something. Whatever it is
comes free in his hand. As he studies his find, his light
wanders upward, pointing directly into the dark hole. Hooper
119 CLOSE – HOLE
Ben Gardner’s dead face stares out through the hole in the
Flicka, eyes and mouth gaping in frozen horror, his skin
pinched like a prune.
120 CLOSE – HOOPER
bumps his head in trying to get away, seems to yell through
escaping bubbles. His mask fills with water as he flails
for the surface. Miscalculating, he bumps into the hull of
his own boat, scrambles around it, finally coming up between
the two boats…gulping air, unable to speak yet, shocked
and scared, out of breath….
Bad — ?
All Hooper can do is hold out his hand, open for Meadows to
see. A shiny white tooth, at least two inches long, rests
in the palm of his hand.
A White — it’s a Great White, I
knew it…! Looks like he died
of fright in there.
No shark did that to a boat —
Hooper rolls up his sleeve, and with one stroke of the tooth
shaves all the hair off him forearm.
One this big could do anything!
Meadows will never be the same.
121 INT. VAUGHN’S REALTY OFFICE – DAY
On the run and seeing red, Larry Vaughn speed-walks out of
his office, grabbing his coat and out the door, cuss-mumbling
all the way. Meadows, still in his boat clothing, appears
behind him, his tie undone and sweating. Vaughn jumps into
his car, and just before Meadows can open the passenger door,
takes off in it.
122 EXT. ISLAND HIGHWAY – DAY
Just under the roadside billboard, Hendricks and another
deputy, Joyner, prepare for a climb with ropes in their
arms, paint cans and large canvas brushes.
Beyond them a few feet away, stand Brody and Hooper, watching
Vaughn pacing back and forth, sucking on a Havana. He has a
newspaper in his right hand. Hooper is sketching on a sketch
It says here IT IS CAUGHT! Period!
Brody holds out the two-inch tooth.
Mr. Hooper figured its size from
this — it’s over a ton. It’s
also over —
Put that rotten thing —
(he pushes it
away, it slices)
Hooper steps over to show him his sketch.
chief around his hand)
If my hand gets infected….
Meet Carcharodon charcharias.
What is it?
The shark that just bit you on
And this…is you.
Hooper has sketched the reduced ratio figure of Vaughn with
cigar standing in front of the jaws. He looks like a dwarf
Seventeen feet from anterior to
No shark grows seventeen feet,
for Christ’s sake.
The famous Swedish naturalist
Linnaeus believed that the ‘great
fish’ that swallowed Jonah was not
a whale, but a great white shark.
Love to prove that, wouldn’t you?
Get into the National Geographic.
What should we do about this white?
Hooper has come prepared. He takes from his backpack a
Bomar Brain calculator and ticks away at it while talking.
The longer there’s nothing to
munch on here, the better your
chances he’ll go. That means, of
course, keeping your beaches
closed, your fishermen in port.
The other alternative is non-
corrosive, 100-gauge steel mesh —
say, 30,000 feet of it around your
bathing area. Concrete blocks and
installation would run you…oh,
four, five hundred thousand. That
is, unless you could seek a deputa-
tion from the federal government —
(notes Vaughn’s non-
Beats getting swallowed, doesn’t it?
Vaughn is apoplectic. His seemingly dead cigar glows again.
He takes Brody by the arm and leads him out of earshot of
Maybe we can make it up in August.
That beach will be open ON the FOURTH
OF JULY, DAMMIT!
We have to give this a coupla weeks.
A couple of days. And that’s bad
enough. I’ll have to think of
some reason that’ll keep the
grease from frying. In the mean-
time, I want that shark killed.
Either do it yourself, or hire a
pro, but go door to door with the
offer. No more of his bounty
crap. And Brody —
Vaughn gestures up at the billboard. The beautiful model
splashing in the golden surf with flailing arms has been
significantly reinterpreted. Some pranksters have painted
a huge dorsal fin cutting through the waves next to her, and
she now looks like an hysterical beach-goer stampeding out
of the water. The deputies begin covering it over with paint.
People have been gathering throughout the scene on bicycles
and a few station wagons.
First the picket fences — and
now this. I want to see those
little bastards hanging upside
down by their Buster Brown shoes.
Vaughn storms away before Brody can reply.
123 EXT. DOCK AREA – DAY
Hooper is loading some mainline floats and smelly bait fish
on board. Two young long-hairs are assisting him. The old
harbormaster dips his coffee percolator into the water and
rinses it thoroughly while watching Hooper load. He rises
to his feet and walks across the pier, looking in the oppo-
site direction about three slips away.
124 ANGLE – A HIDDEN SLIP
Brody and Deputy Hendricks are supervising another loading
activity. Six local fishermen are converting their 16-foot
fiberglass double outboard into a gunboat. A sealed crate
of high concussion palm-sized depth charges gingerly finds
a place in the bow section, over which fishing gear and
nets are positioned to disguise the mission.
Don’t let him out of your sight.
Not for a second. Stay at a dis-
creet distance — and dammit,
Lenny, no shark talk! The way
sound carries over water, you’re
a dead giveaway.
Who’s with him?
Local hire…I don’t know. I want
to hear from you, Len.
125 EXT. PICKET FENCE ROW – DAY
Angling down a stretch of picket fence. Little karate cries
are accompanied by little flat hands piercing through splin-
126 EXT. MAIN STREET – DAY
The hardware store proprietor, bored and withdrawn, suns
himself on a chaise lounge surrounded by summer surplus
that no one is buying, while —
— the Amity Gift and Candle shop is offering an outside
display on a carousel postcard rack of artificial shark-
tooth necklaces, along with an open-air gallery of shark
books. A dozen tourists bunch up as business booms here
127 INT. BRODY’S OFFICE – DAY
Ellen is somehow mired behind Brody’s desk, two travel
folders in her absent-minded grasp. She talks into one
phone, at the same time she is talking on another to a
breathy, ticky landlady. All of this overlapping. Brody’s
secretary Polly is in the outer office doing three things
(into phone) First it’s twenty-four
I don’t know where my husband hours, then it’s two days.
is, Mr. Kretzler. He’s only It one more guest of mine
closed the beaches to insure leaves for Cape Cod, I’ll
your safety…. start a petition!
From the outer office, we hear:
Until further notice! You’ll have
to ask him about that when he gets
Three people enter. Two of them, an elderly tourist couple,
push past Polly and into Brody’s office where Ellen stands
beside the desk.
Excuse me — I see by the papers
they caught the killer shark. I
see by the signs that the beaches
are still closed, and we were just
(reaches out and
takes Ellen’s hand
in hers, glowing)
I think it’s a simply wonderful
positive sign of our times to see
a woman Chief of Police in a nice
place like —
Ellen removes the receiver from her ear, from which angry
geese-like sounds filter through. She starts to explain,
instead bursts out laughing — one of those spontaneous,
funny cries for help that leaves you weak. She falls
helplessly into her husband’s swivel chair, covering her
face with Acapulco brochures.
128 INT. QUINT’S RESIDENCE – NIGHT
Entering Quint’s abode is not unlike a spooky ride at
Disneyland…the placement of objects, the dungeon lighting,
the tendrils of smoke and dust in the air makes a visitor
wish he were carrying a 100-watt bulb.
There is gear everywhere. The walls are adorned with jerky
shark hides, coiled ropes dangle like serpents above a galley
stove that leaks smoke and holds two weeks worth of filthy
dishes. Tubes, barrels, rods, reels, harpoons, an antique
gun collection and a dizzy array of shark hooks line the
walls, with one entire wall dedicated to a collection of
laminated jaws from the blue shark to the Great White. Con-
spicuously in the center of the room is a swivel fighting
chair and it looks like the perfect place to have all your
teeth pulled. Into this orifice of decay, Brody enters,
and from his point of view, we see Quint hunched over a tub
of steaming Borax.
I know it’s late, Mr. Quint.
Quint lifts a ghastly set of dripping jaws from the solution.
Snappy little novelty item.
Quint demonstrates by holding them up to frame his face through
the round jagged opening.
(holding it down)
He looks up at his gallery of jaws.
No offense, you guys!
referring to what’s
left of sixteen
Very touchy. All set for the
Hallelujah chorus and stuck on
the first note.
Brody enters the room like he’s treading on hot charcoal.
I would have called you —
Quint walks toward Brody with Borax dripping from both hands.
He places one of them hospitably on Brody’s shoulder.
Sure you would, sweetheart.
And ushers him into the fighting chair. He then busies him-
self around the premises and Brody must use the swivel chair
to follow him, feeling chills whenever Quint move behind him.
I’m Chief Brody, Mr. Quint —
Suits me. I’m a social undesirable
Me and your Great big White.
Who told you?
with a wooden brush)
What’s the count up to down there
anyway? You can’t have much of
a town left!
Got Ben Gardner this time.
Ben? Sharks’ll eat anything.
I need to talk to you, Quint —
Quint slips past Brody’s blindspot to the opposite wall, and
Brody tenses and swivels too fast, almost spinning 360 degrees
before braking with his feet.
Anything! Know what I found inside
that tiger? Aside from fish and
He moves proudly to the shelf of jaws and souvenirs
collected from the bellies of sharks.
Twenty feet of cable, half an army
cot, four brass buttons, a c**ker
spaniel, license plate, a drip-
dry shirt, and a six-pack of diet
We can’t have this damn thing
sneaking in —
(as though alarmed,
he touches a hand to
Chief! Show a little respect.
Jesus! Whites are head of the
mob out there, this sounds like
(wiping his mouth)
Ever caught one?
A thirteen-footer and one fifteen —
Now you’re asking ten thousand
dollars, but look —
Chief, Chief, Chief – forget it.
I get two bills a day from charters.
I sell the hides, I sell the teeth,
I sell the fins to chinks for soup —
you ought to try a little shark
sometime! Hammerhead’s terrific –
Quint hops to the oven. An avalanche of pots and pans, a
burst of smoke, and before you know it, Quint is presenting
Brody with a hot plate.
Brody turns away from the stink.
Sorry, nothing fancier tonight —
boy, I do a Mako Provencale –
(kisses his fingers)
How’s four hundred a day, Quint?
Quint is suddenly across the room, lowering a bucket in front
Serve yourself, Chief. Shark-liver
oil! Best lubricant in the world!
How much do you want?
Quint turns, suddenly bitter. He walks over to a cage with
a parrot in it.
Clowns trying to bargain….
I came on my own, Quint.
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum.
See, if we could make a deal tonight —
Here’s what the price is tonight,
Quint stalks Brody as he talks. Brody trying to look reasonable
as he backs around the room, bumping into objects d’art.
Twenty-five grand to go for it,
plus twenty-five more if I land it,
all repairs on the boat, and on
me, a new rod from Haydy’s in
London, a life subscription to
Playboy, a stereo 4-track and the
Quint, you know they’ll never —
Let me finish! If it gets me,
different deal — seventy-five,
Seventy-five for who?
For nobody! To make this place a
museum or something! ‘Quint’s
Monster Palace!’ How’s that?
Maybe have me stuffed in the middle
here — !
Quint poses stuffed with a harpoon in the middle of the room.
This is the first time he has stopped moving.
I have to tell them something
Brody looks for the door…completely disoriented, he tries
to open one of the walls.
No problem! Tell ’em that joke
from World War Two —
(walks over to
About the Marines in the landing
barge? Sergeant splashes right
in, yelling ‘Hit the beach men,
follow me and….’
Quint taps the bottom of the bird cage, and without losing
a beat, the parrot squawks in falsetto:
Watch out for the shark!
Brody has found the door and is gone. The door swings in a
breeze. Quint turns to his gallery of jaws and smiles with
a mock-courtly bow.
129 EXTERIOR – DOCKS – DUSK
Hooper’s Formula twenty-two tying up in his rental slip.
He looks dog tired as he steps off and stretches his legs on
dry land. The most astonishing thing about Matt this evening
is his obvious disappointment.
The gunboat is also tied up, the men unloading. They are in
terrific spirits. Each has caught his limit. The boat is
filled with fish, the men filled with stories. Only Len
Hendricks shows the strain.
130 ANGLE – BRODY
riding up on his police bicycle. He sees Hendricks fifty
yards away in the dusk, shaking his head. Brody turns and
rides down the dock toward Hooper, saying good-bye to his
Might be for you, Mr. Brody. I
think it’s all over.
How can you be sure?
The sea is full of fish again for
one thing. You won’t find sea life
in the territory of a Great White.
All the fish we saw in the ocean
today. You’d think they were cele-
brating. I played low-frequency
music underwater — that usually
works faster than blood.
(gives him a
Are you feeling okay?
There are signals in the water. I
can always read them. And the currents
Vaughn’s going to want a statement.
What about taking precautions?
I’d take them, sure. Lookout posts.
An alarm system. If you can afford
picket boats equipped with sonar
repellent line across the bathing
area. Jesus…we must have gone six
times around this crummy island.
And you’re sure it’s —
You’ll never be immune to attack.
It knows where you live now. Good-
Brody is left alone on the dock, the sky darkening behind him.
131 INT. FERRY BOAT – DAY
Two cavernous iron doors. Then a crack of vertical light as
six burly crewmen muscle them apart. The Amity ferry landing
is approaching, people in colorful outfits waiting dockside
for the first filled-to-capacity shuttle of the summer season
Bach’s Little Fugue is the musical accompaniment to this
wholly visual montage of disembarkation. The next two minutes
should be treated like a “short film” taking into account all
of the colors, episodes, faces and behavior of a variety of
Americans who colonize Eastern resort communities for the
A. A train of cars trundle down the ramp, bumper to bumper.
B. Young beautiful people from Princeton, Yale, N.Y.U.,
wearing knapsacks, toting luggage, babies riding in
papoose rigs, energized children, senior citizens hold-
ing hands on the pedestrian ramp, a few wheelchairs.
C. The sidewalk vendors hawking balloons for the kiddies,
hotdogs, hot fried clams, Italian ices.
D. The Amity Cab Company, small blue Toyotas, run by students
on vacation queued up like a bomber wing.
E. Hooper is watching.
Station wagons with pale winter faces pressed anxiously to
the windows, Cadillacs with Rear Admirals at the helm, their
wives with blue hair remembering the way from the years before.
Then six blonde and tanned Coney Island meatballs descend the
ramp. They all wear Men’s Club Lifeguard patches and matching
collegiate windbreakers. They scour the landing, looking for
someone to save.
The boat is empty. Everybody heading inland, anticipating the
best Fourth of July ever. Already there is debris on the
docks and the cleaning crew works away at it.
132 INSIDE THE FERRY
As Bach’s Little Fugue ends, the six burly crewmen lean their
combined weight against the Cathedral doors, closing out the
light and locking in the trade. The doors latch shut with a
GO TO BLACK
133 EXT. COAST GUARD STATION – DAY
A young Ensign is demonstrating “Shark-Chaser” to Brody from
the concrete pier. He lowers a canister of it into the
water and a dark cloud begins to diffuse.
You’ll need about 150 of these —
twelve feet apart, behind your
surf-line. We’d have to string
them right across, that’s say, 2000
Makes sort of a long black
But it doesn’t always work.
Well…it inhibits them, Mr. Brody.
(brightens with facts)
The astronauts use it.
(not impressed, gazes
That, and Tang.
134 EXT. AMITY MAINSTREET – DAY
If you lifted out any hunk of mid-day Manhattan intersection
and set it here on the colonial corners of Main Street and
Pilgrimage Way, you couldn’t do worse. This is what Amity
feeds on between July and September. This is what the
tourists pick over between 8:00 A.M. and 5:00 P.M. This is
what it’s all about.
135 EXT. AMITY MOVIE HOUSE – EVENING
The marquee lights go on. Moby Dick is the new substitute
feature offering. Pan down to show the theatre manager and
a boiling, pacing Larry Vaughn.
I want this off before the weekend.
And if it’s not — !
I thought with all this interest…
It’s not a documentary, you know.
136 INT. MOVIE HOUSE
137 FULL SCREEN
Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab in an outpouring of classic
Melville. The white whale explodes through the waves and
crushes sixteen harpooners. A single sandpapery laugh
accompanies each special effect.
138 ANGLE – MOVIE HOUSE
Quint sits in the center aisle, popcorn and ju-ju-bees
stuffing his face. The splayed projection beams dance
around his head as he roars with amusement. People are
getting up and moving away from him. He is watching with
delight, slapping his thigh, thumping the seat-back with
139 FULL MOVIE SCREEN
We watch as Ahab gets tangled in the line and dragged under
by the whale. Quint can be heard OVER.
140 EXT. SOUTH BEACH – THE FOURTH OF JULY
A four foot surfer’s swell curls and crashes on shore, rider-
less. The broad sandy beach is a mosaic of summer color as
one thousand vacationers practice fun in the sun, but not in
the water. Hot dog stands and ice cream vendors are every-
141 ANGLE – LIFEGUARD STATIONS
A half-dozen lookout lofts. As many handsome lifeguards
with Walkie-Talkies strapped to their trunks and loudhailers
at arm’s reach. Bored, two of the hot dogs train their
binoculars on some local color.
142 AT SEA
Tactically flanking a three-hundred-yard apron of black
repellent are four small watch-boats. A fifth tiny pleasure
boat darts around the repellent line. Farther out, cross-
ing back and forth, are patrol boats six and seven. To top
it all off, a Coast Guard blimp floats three hundred feet
143 ON SHORE
A crunch of gawkers makes life miserable for a mobile TV
crew on their van-shaped unit. A graduate from the Columbia
School of Broadcasting is interviewing Martin Brody in front
of dozens of camera-conscious kids.
Will you be going for a dip,
(ill at ease)
No, I’ll be sticking to business
today. As you see, we have spotters
up and down the beach, and out there’s
the Coast Guard, State Police, County
Police — everyone’s cooperating
on this —
The question is, if it’s so unlikely
as you seem to think —
It never hurts to play it safe.
Thank you, Chief Brody.
Let’s do a group at the hot dog
Vaughn is watching the ocean, aware that nobody is in yet.
He turns in the direction of a Selectman and his family,
and after grunting hellos, falls on his haunches and talks
through a dogged smile.
Will you please get in that ocean.
Nobody’s going in — move!
(indicating his family)
He gets up, gesturing “go in” to another townsman. The
Selectman gathers his senses, swallows back nagging nerves.
(to his family,
How about a swim, gang, huh?
Not you, you have a cold.
Vaughn spies Hooper, alone on the sand in his trunks, look-
out at sea. The Selectman and his family of four start
into the ocean as Vaughn approaches Hooper.
You’ve earned a day off, Doc.
And thank you.
Hooper just looks at him.
We feel you’ve done a heck of a job,
back to sea)
I feel the same about you.
144 ANGLE – SELECTMAN AND HIS FAMILY
They walk into the surf, deeper and deeper, until a wave
washes over their heads. The Selectman surfaces, and realizes
he is wearing his watch. Never mind. Others follow suit
and begin to trickle into the white surf.
145 BOAT #2
Four State Police with their 30.06’s stowed discreetly under
their seats. As a Beering State Policeman talks to Brody on
the Walkie-Talkie, we notice Boat #5, a short-range speedster,
working the repellent line.
We’re putting the fresh cans on,
from ice chest)
Calm down, will you?
You guys want a beer?
146 BOAT #5
Two men and a boat-load of canisters. One holds up the nylon
repellent line with a pole as the other replaces a can and
I want a pair of rubber gloves.
To demonstrate what he means, he holds up two hands, black
with dye. A wet can of Budweiser tumbles into one of them.
Sailor’s Walkie-Talkie squawks like a strangled chicken.
Daisy to Blimp…Daisy to Blimp…
thirty yards off my port side….
The two sailors turn to port.
147 BOAT #7
Hendricks is on the radio while a Coast Guard spotter works
Anything? Thought I saw a shadow.
Pan to the water.
148 INT. BLIMP
A breathtaking view. The blimp spotter looks down with
naked eye and binoculars.
Nothing from up here, Daisy. Over.
149 CLOSE – HENDRICKS
False alarm. Must be this glare.
150 ANGLE – BEACH – CLOSE ON BRODY
He is walking down the beach, threading his way through the
Who’s scared to go in! I was in!
Up to your knees, yeah — So
come with me — I’ll go again.
How far? Etc., etc.
A group of youngsters playing with Michael Brody’s dinghy.
They are hauling it toward the surf.
Hey Mikey — !
Michael turns as Brody trots toward him.
You’re not going to the ocean
with that, are you son?
I’m all checked out for light
surf and look at it.
Do me this favor just once. Use
Dad, the ponds are for old ladies.
Just a favor for your old man.
151 SWIMMERS AND SURFERS
A surfer waving to impress his girlfriend on the beach. He
dives off his board and swims around the black dye.
Not so close to the line, please….
The eighteen-year-old surfer submerges, comes up all inky.
His girlfriend laughs, impressed.
152 TV CREW – NEAR WATER
Clowning, posing, boasting for the cameras, dozens of
youngsters ride in baby waves, stand on their heads, on
the shoulders of friends, wave, swim out, kick up the water.
The TV cameramen are going crazy. Burning film. Zooming.
153 REPELLENT LINE – SURFER AND COUNTY POLICEMAN
The Surfer won’t leave the area.
Get clear of the repellent line,
Suddenly his Walkie-Talkie fizzes, and the Blimp Spotter’s
voice overloads the speaker.
Blimp to Daisy! Red Four, Red Four!
154 BOAT #7 – HENDRICKS
Guns are up, heads turning everywhere.
Where — ?
Went under your — There!
The Coast Guard sonar operator spots it and pales. A slick
black dorsal fin is slicing a wake toward the swimming area.
Jesus Christ —
155 BEACH – BRODY
Rigid and choked, he almost breaks the “send” button trying
Everybody out! Out of the water,
please — leave the water, please —
Hooper is on his feet. The lifeguard next to him begins
blowing on his whistle.
156 CLOSE – BRODY
shouting hysterically into his Walkie-Talkie.
No whistles! No whistles!
157 THE BEACH
Dozens of bathers halfway out of the water, turn to see. More
whistles, and they start toward shore. The loudhailers sound-
ing more urgent now, and a contagious dread seizes one person
after another. Entire groups of people begin pulling toward
shore, some of them obviously trying to control a growing
hysteria in others.
158 BOATS #6 AND #7
are converging, heading toward the repellent line as if track-
ing an underwater shadow. The fin is beyond the repellent
cordons and heading into the crowds.
159 THE WATER – BATHERS
People begin screaming. Kids are suddenly separated from
their parents. Others seem to forget how to swim. One
myopic little girl has her glasses bumped off and she begins
to cry in blinded panic.
160 BOATS #2, #3, #4
The riflemen in the boats are trying to get a bead, but too
many civilians create a hazard. The Coast Guardsmen attempt
to sever the repellent cord to gain access to the bathing
area and the heaving fin.
161 THE WATER – BATHERS
This is a confirmation of our worst dread — a full-blown
headlong water panic. Screaming vacationers claw their way
over the bodies of the less able. Some literally attempt to
walk over the bobbing heads and glistening backs of others
pulling for dry land.
162 CLOSEUPS – PANIC
Horrified faces. Some are stunned and wandering in slow,
tentative circles, while others are helped out by friends.
Five people try to mount a rubber raft.
Ugly reminders that each of us is Number One.
Brody enters shot, yelling into his Walkie-Talkie, Hooper
charges past him to help an old man out of the water. He
returns to pull several others to their feet.
163 EXT. – THE BEACH
Hooper keeps plunging in, dragging the helpless from the surf.
Tears well in Brody’s eyes. The screaming is deafening. The
TV unit pushes past Brody.
Zoom in! Over there!
One thousand survivors pack the beach, standing absolutely
still. A numbing cold sets in, and people shiver against
Muted sobs, whimpering, coughing.
The six burly lifeguards huddle together like Cub Scouts.
164 ANGLE – BATHING AREA
The monstrous black fin turns a slow circle as two Coast
Guardsmen manage to cut their own repellent line. All
boats converge on the dynamic fin. Men raise their guns
to fire. Others adlib nautical commands in a uniquely
165 CLOSE – FIN
It slips sideways, revealing for the first time a tiny
blue snorkel. Then appears the faces of two youngsters whom
we will recall from the coven behind the dune. The fin bobs
back, a beaverboard replica attached to a partially sub-
merged surfboard. One youngster looks up and is greeted by:
166 YOUNGSTER’S POINT OF VIEW
Twenty rifles and shotguns pointed directly at him. Surround-
ing him on three sides. Some of the policemen start to
lower their guns — struck dumb.
167 CLOSE – YOUNGSTER
his only defense, he begins to cry — and feebly raises his
hands in unconditional surrender.
168 ANGLE – ESTUARY
The narrow estuary leading into the half-mile is rough today.
Two children digging in the sand and unaware of the beach
panic one hundred yards away look up, and the little girl
169 A BLACK DORSAL FIN
is cruising through the narrows and toward the busy pond.
170 ANGLE – POND
Michael is tacking full-sail in his boat with a friend, Kit.
Kit is admiring the shark’s tooth necklace around his own
neck while Michael rubs some water on the scratches left by
it. The fin, huge, black and real, crosses behind them.
They are not yet aware. The fin seems to circle and return.
It heads toward Michael’s boat when another small dinghy gets
in its way — a weekend novice just finishing a thermos of
coffee when he is “bumped.” The entire boat is overturned.
Michael sees the fin now as it collides with him, the entire bow
lifting out of the water and rolling over on the port side.
Michael and Kit are thrown head first.
Three heads in the water come up sputtering, the fin between
them crossing back. Michael freezes. The fin comes directly
at him, growing into the sky, passing him so close he could
touch it, but ignoring him as it follows the flailing and
panicked weekend novice. Catches him. Michael watches.
That all too familiar explosion of water — a choked off
scream — the head and upper torso of the novice passing
Michael swiftly as though being carried off — a current
of blood trailing around.
The renewed cry of SHARK! SEMENTIA POND!
171 CLOSE – BRODY
He turns. Oh God! Running through the slogging sand.
172 CLOSE – COAST GUARDSMEN IN PICKET BOAT
Block the estuary!
Three boats racing to carry out the orders. The black fin
repassing the two children, racing to get out. One rowboat
reaches the mouth before the others. The fin won’t veer off.
It smacks into the little vessel, tearing off the bow and
beaching it in its wake. Racing into open water. Blood
173 CLOSE – HOOPER
He is pulling Michael out of the water as Brody runs up.
Michael is conscious but in shock — his eyes staring at
(feeling his face)
He’s in shock. Get blankets!
People gather and Brody snatches beach towels out of their
hands. They cover Michael and carry him off the beach, feet
raised above his head.
I can read signals in the water —
when they’re around — when they
leave. I saw the signals. It
moved on. They reported an attack
up the coast, toward Ipswitch, Maine
today. Oh, Jesus, Martin, I’m sorry.
174 INT. QUINT’S SHACK – DAWN
The 1940’s hit HUBBA, HUBBA, HUBBA blares from the new stereo.
Barbara Walters blares from the new color TV.
Brody has the look of a man who has gone without sleep for
two days. He slouches in the fighting chair, watching Quint
who is shoving Salvatore toward the door.
(shouting over the noise)
You know which cans, stupid — the
whale meat. Get ’em out of the
deep freeze and on board.
This done, Quint picks up a harpoon, tests the point.
Sharpens it on a shark hide.
And where would you like this shark
Anywhere we can see it’s dead.
(looking at TV)
You want him gift-wrapped?
Brody rises to go.
Call me. Soon as you have some news.
Quint talks past him in a load open voice.
What is it now?!
We see Salvatore, afraid of him, but resolved.
I ain’t going. Ain’t goin’.
Quint snaps the generator off.
You ain’t what??
I ain’t that crazy, that’s what!
Now I brung in some mean big mothers
with you, but I’m resignin’ on
(to his gallery
Mutiny on the Bounty!
I don’t mess with nothin’ built
like no station wagon, 18 — 20
How much do you want?
Not with no man-eater! He ain’t
gonna live to no reputation on
Go load up.
That’s all I’m gonna do.
Quint picks up a length of rope and starts to coil it, turns
Might have to wait till I dig up
Quint takes him in with a tight smile. He tosses Brody the
length of rope.
Tie me a barrel knot.
Brody feels useless holding the rope end.
I really want to go, Mr. Quint.
Five lengths of half-inch…twenty
number 14’s, straight gaff —
I’ll get a pro to come along.
Quint runs through his check list…to himself. Pan down to
the floor and an arsenal of hand-to-shark weaponry.
Flying gaffs, tail rope, eye-splices,
M-One, pliers, irons.
175 EXT. QUINT’S DOCK – DAY
Hooper’s fighting gear is on deck. His colleague from Woods
Hole looks at him with some dismay as they go over the check
list of fighting gear from the Oceanographic Institute. The
Colleague, in a smaller boat alongside, hands him the last
few bits and pieces.
Powerhead, C.O.2 darts…hypo…
The Colleague glances up toward the flybridge and Quint.
Salvatore goes back and forth rolling on chum barrels.
You shouldn’t be in on this, Matt.
Hunting anything down — I mean,
that’s not our area.
Maybe I’m in the wrong area.
Quint looks down at the undersea cage that is sitting on the
transom of the Orca.
What’s this glamour-boy…a portable
(shakes hands with
Colleague, who pushes
off, shaking his head)
Thanks. I’ll see you.
what he thinks)
And you’re inside that — in the
You’re in the water with the shark.
With an operatic gesture, Quint sings down to him in his best
‘Believe me, if all those endearing
That I gaze on so fondly today….’
(glancing toward pier)
176 ANGLE – PIER
Brody is walking down the pier, bundled in foul-weather
clothes like a tenderfoot Sea Scout. He carries a shopping
bag and an overnight kit. Quint can’t help himself — he
guns the Orca’s diesel engines to sound like a wolf whistle.
Well…shiver me timbers!
Brody is helped unsteadily into the boat by Salvatore, who then
leaps lightly to the dock and casts off with style. Even now
Brody is beginning to look sick. He holds onto the hatch
Bow. Stern. Aft. Forward —
Port — Starboard. Got it?…Good!
(yells over engine
noise to Salvatore)
Missing a great adventure, Sal!
Salvatore waves and smiles as the boat pulls away.
You bet, Mr. Quint! Bye! Bye!
The Orca chugs past the dock and out toward the narrow
(NOTE: TO BE INSERTED — THE BLUE SHARK FRENZY, PER BENCHLEY’S
NOVEL, TO GET THE THIRD ACT UNDER WAY.)
177 EXT. THE OCEAN – AFTERNOON
The Orca is drifting in neutral. The ocean is like gelatin,
the sun sucking heat waves from its surface. Brody at the
stern, handkerchief on his head to protect from further sun-
burn, has been handed the slimiest job on a shark hunt: the
ladling out of chum. Brody is reeling with nausea. Hooper
is up at the wheel on the flybridge. He dons a baseball cap
and aviator’s sunglasses. Quint is firmly situated in the
fighting chair, reeling in the bait. All three have the look
of being on open water for the better part of the day, with
That don’t tempt him either, huh?
He hauls in the bait. Two mackerel, barely alive.
We’ll find him something.
Hooper studies this man Quint as he flings aside the mackerel.
Brody has stopped chumming and is retching over the side.
(yelling at Brody)
Keep that chum going! We got five
good miles, don’t break it!
Brody opens his overnight kit and takes out a handkerchief and
some Old Spice after-shave. He pours the after-shave into the
cloth, presses it to his nose, and resumes ladling.
Quint almost trips over Hooper’s tanks as he walks to the chum
barrels. He roughly kicks them aside.
Fancy goddam toys….
Careful! Compressed air — you
crack that and it explodes like a
Cluttering up my deck —
Quint takes a wide red strip of whale meat and a gnarled squid
from the garbage pail, and searches for a No. 2 hook rig.
That from a pilot whale too?
(deftly slicing whale)
Can’t you tell? Here —
He holds up the strip of whale. Quint has sculpted it into
the outline of a whale.
The expert don’t approve.
Brody shades his eyes from the white sun as Quint baits up.
Now, you swim down and…
(kisses the bait)
give a nice big kiss to Mr. White —
You still think it’s all the way
(snapping bait to
I think like they do, Chief.
And they have brains the size of
Quint gets a big laugh out of this, and sits in the fighting
chair. He casts off, murmuring as the line feeds out.
Now if he weren’t around, we’d of
hooked something else by now,
wouldn’t we? But he scared ’em
all away. Yeah, didn’t you? Yeah,
I know you, you poor lonesome son
of a bitch…come to pappa, you —
The line whizzes off the reel. Brody jumps up. Quint puts
his hand on the drag and addresses the situation softly.
Atta baby — he’ll gulp it down
(making gulping noises)
Quint tightens drag and strikes. The line goes whizzing out.
Brody runs to Quint’s side.
You got it?
(turning with the pull)
Get behind me, dummy!
(shouts to Hooper
Reverse her and turn — he’s taking
too much line!
Wet my reel, quick!
Brody pours water on the screaming reel, nearly unspooled now.
Hooper is turning the boat around and the line changes direc-
Starboard, for Chris’sake —
Hooper steers it sharply.
Again the line changes direction, down this time.
(to the sea)
Where the hell is he going?
Quint reeling in like mad.
Oh, this ain’t foolin’ me —
(rod arcs down
with a surge)
Sure — try it!
The line rushes out and now there is less tension. Quint is
horsing up and down, reeling in.
Makin’ believe it’s easy now.
The line is almost vertical now, and Quint shows a hint of
bafflement. He reels in suspiciously.
Gettin’ ready to run again — no?
What’s he playin’ here?
(reels in furiously,
Put the gloves on!
Let’s see who’s gonna tease who now!
Down here! Do like I told you!
Hooper is rushing down.
Can’t bring him up so quick —
(bathed in sweat;
How do you know! How do I know!
The leader shows above the water line. Brody is wide-eyed,
waiting for that first look.
He’s nearly up —
Unbuckle me — fast!
Grab the leader. He ain’t normal,
this one…they never —
Snap it on, jerk!
Hooper snaps the rope onto the leader and holds on.
Watch your hands —
(suddenly to Brody)
Grab onto this!
Before he realizes what’s happening, Brody is clumsily clutch-
ing at the big rod, appalled. Quint skips away for a harpoon.
He picks one from a row of twelve, turns….
That’s when the leader lashes free, sending Hooper crashing
backward in a serious fall, and the rod whips at Brody’s
forehead, drawing blood. Quint snatches up the rod and
reels in. The wires have been bitten through.
(addressing the ocean)
Sure…you’re havin’ a ball!
(to Hooper, still
sprawled on deck)
Get back up here!
What’s the point with hooks and
Don’t tell me my business!
(to Hooper, points)
Quarter-mile, that way. Full
Hooper shakes off his dizziness and obeys. Brody watches
Quint rig up a new leader, hook up the same bait.
gesturing at rod
I don’t understand though…How you
expect to —
This tricks him to the surface, got
that? Then I can jab him, under-
(goes to flybridge,
Think I’m gonna haul it in like a
Brody begins to apply cream to his sunburned nose.
178 ON BRIDGE – HOOPER AND QUINT
Why over there?
At least you handle the boat all
I can do more than that. Look,
Quint, I brought along a —
Stop. Here…Cut the engine.
Hooper cuts the engines as Quint swings nimbly down. He stands
stock still on the main deck, motioning Brody to be silent.
Then picking up the newly rigged rod, Quint softshoes it over
to the chair. About to sit down, he freezes.
179 CLOSE – QUINT
180 CLOSE – BRODY
moving back, eyes wide.
181 CLOSE – HOOPER
moving closer, aghast.
182 COMBINED POINT OF VIEW
We see the shark. First the jet-black fin…then the head
and upper jaws, twenty yards off. It finally submerges, veer-
ing off to one side with a neat slap of its tail.
183 ANGLE – QUINT
He puts the rod away.
Jesus. I heard they got that big….
Closer to thirty feet….
Twenty-five. And three tons of
What’s the formula…?
in his head)
Girth, say 150 inches. Squared
and…divide by 800 — that’s six
one, five…6150 by 2000 —
Just over three tons.
Quint snorts and dumps the chum overboard. Flings in the
Where’d it go?
Hooper is rummaging in his gear. Brody watches him locate a
small waterproof signal light. He starts to attach it to
the first barrel. Quint, who has been scanning the sea, spins
Don’t monkey with none of my gear!
(trying to be patient)
Your harpoons are attached to
They pop up and drag on him, drag
on him till he’s through — isn’t
that the idea?
You can’t improve on it!
Hooper switches on the signal light. It pulses a glow that
hurts the eyes even in broad daylight.
What if we have to follow him?
Quint breathes in smoke until his tongue catches fire.
Sonny — take that, and your
formulas, and your cage — take
your whole halfass hardware store
here and —
A whale of a thump jolts the Orca. Quint grabs for a harpoon.
Brody pulls his snub-nose special from his shopping bag.
Hooper sees the panic on Brody’s face and reaches a hand out
Put that away!
Quint, on the pulpit, harpoon poised.
Once more…once more!
WHUMP! Quint almost takes a tumble into the water. We see
the glistening back and fin below him. HE PLANTS THE HARPOON.
The Great White slaps the transom with its tail and sounds.
184 INSERT – COILED ROPE AND BARREL
The rope reels out in a blur, and Hooper pins Brody out of
the way of the spinning coils — just in time. The barrel
with flasher attached literally somersaults out of the boat,
missing both men’s faces by seven inches.
Quint is already poised, feet planted, with harpoon number
185 ANGLE – OCEAN
The barrel skips like a flat rock over the surface of the
water, then unexpectedly vanishes under the water.
He can’t stay down, swimmin’ with
that on! Wait till I stick him
with two! That’ll worry him! Come
on, upstairs! What’s he waitin’ for?!
He can’t keep down this long!
Brody and Hooper enter the shot behind him. The sun is low-
slung over the horizon.
Why don’t we go in? Have a crack
We are stayin’ out here till I
186 ANGLE – HOOPER AND BRODY
They exchange looks. “He’s nuts.”
187 EXT. ORCA – ON OPEN SEA – NIGHT – CLOSE – BRODY
asleep on deck. The day has taken its toll. Brody is riding
the crest of some bad dreams, on the verge of waking at any
188 ANGLE – QUINT AND HOOPER
Both sit on the transom. Hooper takes a long pull from a
bottle of Quint’s home brew. Quint is railing at him, both
a little smacko.
Close call, my ass. A baby dogfish
in a laboratory? See this thumb?
Quint flaunts his thumb, a checkerboard of scar tissue.
(handing back the
You’ve got the monopoly, huh? Here!
Hooper rolls up his trouser leg boasting a crescent scar on
Look at this one.
Quint starts to pull up his own pant leg.
Bull-shark scraped me. I was down
getting samples, and he —
(puts his leg on
Mako! Match that!
A slow mischievous grin stains Hooper’s soggy face. He slowly
unbuttons his shirt, knowing an ace beats the three of club.
An S-shaped white scar on his side says “gin.”
Eight-foot moray eel — right
through the suit, buddy….
Quint staggers to his feet, begins undoing his belt, undoes
You’re in one piece, ain’t you?
Here me lovely!
Quint pulls down one side of his pants to his hip. It looks
like a small piece of him was cored out.
Minor League. Where’s it from?
Tillie Schwab — Newark, New Jersey.
Both laugh, as Hooper pull his shirt down over his left
Right! You want to play dirty — ?
(displays tiny scar)
Standing in line for The Exorcist!
More laughter. Quint takes off his shoe.
I got a toe that’ll wipe the floor
with you —
Hooper, laughing, undoes his belt.
A what? You got a what?
189 ANGLE – QUINT
Something catches his eye and sobers him.
He’s up again.
190 ANGLE – SEA
The stroboscopic signal-light surfaces at the horizon.
Very handy light, I’ll say that.
Let’s move in on him.
Not till I can see him good.
(a long look,
a hint of worry)
Even the one’ll keep pullin’ him up.
But he’ll need three, maybe four.
Most I ever used was two.
(swigs from bottle)
Bastard ran me halfway to Liverpool.
You kill him?
Always do, once I stick a barrel on
(back to Hooper)
No more objections?
Hooper doesn’t replay, Quint needles him.
Jaws two foot wide. Real Prestige
Hooper shrugs. Quint hands him the bottle. Hooper c**ks
his head, noticing a scar patch on Quint’s right forearm.
How’d you get that one?
Quint, staring out to sea, doesn’t seem to hear Hooper.
The signal light disappears.
The scar on your arm.
Had a tattoo there.
Changed your mind about somebody?
(shaking his head)
It said ‘U.S.S. Indianapolis.’
191 CLOSE – HOOPER
His face falls as he hears this. Quint looks at him ironi-
Guess you experts know about that.
Once again Quint turns his eyes to the sea.
You were on her? June ’45?
(flat and quiet)
On her and torpedoed right off her.
Into the drink with 900 other clowns
…Started with 900 anyway…floating
in that big warm Pacific.
(the light surfaces again)
Must have been like a dinner bell
in there…Explosions, and half
the guys bleeding. Soon as the
sharks came homing in on us, we
went by the Manual, of course…
Kept trying to float in groups…
doin’ what if said, splash at ’em,
yell at ’em, hit ’em on the nose,
they won’t bother you…all that.
They tore apart about a hundred
men, the first night. And pretty
soon, when they stepped it up, and
you’d feel ’em bump you, and guys’d
get pulled down a couple of yards
away, and it got to two days…and
three…Well, some fellas couldn’t
take it no more, just peeled off
their life-jackets, got it over with
…We were in the water 110 hours.
Sharks averaged six men an hour.
a hard look)
They’re all experts.
(spits in the ocean)
(weakened by the story)
Jesus, Quint! You can’t blame —
Hooper is interrupted by the boom and banshee cries of
a distant whale.
192 ANGLE – BRODY
springs out of his shallow sleep.
What — What the hell — ?
A whale’s out there.
Quint sits in the fighting chair.
So is he.
193 ANGLE – SEA
The light has surfaced a quarter of a mile away.
Go on and sleep, the two of you.
Brody sinks back, half awake and panting from his burst of
fright. Hooper looks at Quint a long time, suddenly a
stranger again, then beds himself down in the balmy night
air. Quint starts to doze, massaging his missing tattoo.
194 EXT. THE OCEAN – NIGHT
The Orca sits on unruffled waters. A planetarium of star-
life overhead with shooting stars, every now and again
making incisions into the heavens and leaving green trails
behind. All is quiet, not a breath of wind.
The barrel’s strobe light pops into foreground, CLOSE. It
heads toward the Orca, carving neon blue phosphorescence
into the water. The massive dorsal fin surfaces in the
night and circles the Orca, leaving phosphorescence in its
broad wake. The night skies, the silent waters are now
alive in dancing light.
195 ANGLES – THE MEN
as the sleep. A SOUND is heard. A low protracted scraping.
No one wakes. The sound returns. Another SCRAPE. A SCRATCH-
ING noise…almost sounds like CHEWING. Then a gentle BUMP
at the stern. Quint stirs. Brody turns over. Hooper is
sleeping soundly. Then….
A seizure of violent shaking. A horrible splintering and
popping noise. Quint half falls, half springs, out of the
chair. Hooper is on his feet, but loses his footing. The
Orca is again bumped from underneath. Brody holds on, his
gun in hand. Quint pulls out his M-1.
Start the engine!
Hooper is on the flybridge in six bounds. Quint fires sea-
ward over the transom. The engine starts, but something in
it sounds wrong.
Cut it! Cut it!
Quint cranes to look down and around, but no light can be
I don’t know where he is! Ripped
something loose — shaft or some-
He hefts up a deckboard, pokes his small flashlight into
I told you I have things to kill it
with…take over up there, I can —
(slams down board)
Start the pump, goddammit!
Quint can’t hide his fear now.
Are we leaking?
Sound — pumps starting.
We’ll stay afloat. Watch for
the barrel —
Can’t I bail or something?
Quint takes Brody by the arm and sits him down, pointing
Keep your eyes open, that’s all —
And you keep looking that way,
Quint takes up the opposite position and loads his M-1.
Brody checks his gun. Hooper looks with binoculars.
And nobody sleeps. Nobody!
196 ANGLE – ORCA
The three men standing sentinel. Stars…quiet seas…
phosphorescence lighting up the water. HEAR the whale cry-
ing from far away.
197 EXT. THE ORCA – DAWN
Brody leans against the windshield on the flybridge. His
arms hoist binoculars to his eyes. Visible without binoculars
is the signal-light and barrel, not moving, two hundred yards
astern. An angry racket filters up from below deck — Quint
is effecting engine repairs the only way he knows how. Brody
has learned a neat sailor’s trick and nimbly slides down the
hand piping, his feet avoiding the steps. He sidles next to
Hooper, who is struggling into his full wet suit.
(loud and off)
No — still there!
Hooper is busy attaching the cage to the ginpole. He is full
of purpose, his hands working against the clock, short glances
to the hatch from where Quint can be heard, cursing and wrench-
Please, Matt, don’t get him sore.
He’s loony enough.
Hooper tests the rope, inspects his gear, selects a steel
pole and opens a tiny green felt case.
Put all that stuff away before he
198 INSERT – GREEN FELT CASE
Hooper opens it, removing a deadly-looking syringe head.
He had a turn, now I’ll have a turn.
on steel pole)
Maybe you should have a turn, too.
Brody tries to reason, when:
199 ANGLE – QUINT
emerges dirty, red-eyed and haggard, pauses to take it all
What is this?
(without looking up)
Strychnine nitrate, 20 CC’s.
Wear all the Batman costumes you
want, sport. But don’t you inter-
fere with me.
Quint starts to climb the bridge.
All you need to do is lower me in —
I need a transom that don’t leak
every time that —
— shaft goes around —
(an uneven sputter)
— Bent! Seams splitting open
there — !
Quint finesses the Orca “slow ahead” toward the barrel. The
engine sounds like a hamster treadmill. Hooper climbs up
You know he’ll go for the cage —
Not today, doc. No injections.
I can finish him in sixty seconds.
Whole goddam housing’s loose! ‘He’
can hear it, too.
Can’t you stop this Moby Dick crap?!
We do this the way I know how.
Quint cuts the engine once alongside the barrel. Hooper
barely controls himself. Climbs down.
Quint follows after him, putting a cautioning hand on Hooper’s
shoulder to walk softly, then motions Brody to stay on the
flybridge and keep his eyes peeled.
200 QUINT – HOOPER
Tiptoe to the stern, Quint intercepting a harpoon along the
way. Hooper leans way out over the transom and poles the
barrel closer. It bobs around easily, arousing Quint’s sus-
Hooper poles up the slick nylon rope, leaving the barrel
untouched in the water.
Pull up easy — only want to goose
him up. Second you feel he’s run-
ning, drop it…If you want any
Hooper starts hand-reeling in. Surprisingly, there is no
resistance. Both men share perplexed looks. Then Quint
reaches over, his whole body leaning over the side, putting
down his harpoon.
Here — gimme. I don’t get what
201 WATER – ANGLE
Both men are draped over the side, their chins almost touching
the water on the aft side. From the opposite starboard
direction, fully unfastened from the barrel, comes the Great
White. First the fin, then the conical nose and the upper
border of wide, grinning teeth. It knifes through the water
in absolute silence, propelling itself with tremendous speed
toward the unsuspecting men.
202 CLOSE – BRODY
His instincts shine — as does his newly-acquired sense of
(top of his lungs)
Shark! Starboard! It’s under
you — !
203 CLOSE – HOOPER AND QUINT
They turn just in time, and a long spine-stretch saves them
from instant decapitation. The Great White passes the
transom, the harpoon still in its side and trailing five feet
of chewed off cable. The monster rolls on its side and looks
at them as it passes. Then, with a great sweep of its tail,
it lashes the side of the boat, ripping the rope from Quint’s
hand and shearing off five square yards of paint like a lathe.
It makes a wide arc out to sea, only the fin showing now, and
begins to circle around the boat. Quint notices his hand,
palm cut and bleeding, realizes he came that close to losing
his whole hand. He has never been more dangerous.
Haul in that rope — it can foul
Start the engine — !
Brody and Hooper exchange places. The engine starts with a
Easy! It’ll tear right out!
(next to him,
hauling in rope)
We can’t do it ourselves….
He chewed through this, he cracked
your boat — radio in for help —
Pump her out a little…!
I mean it! Send out an S.O.S.!
Don’t make me laugh when I’m working.
I’ll do it.
Brody heads off for the cabin.
204 QUINT – CLOSE
A perfectly terrible look comes over him. He raises up and
starts after Brody. Brody disappears into the cabin. Quint
pauses outside and sees:
205 INSERT – QUINT’S LEAD-CENTERED BASEBALL BAT
his calloused hand grabs it up fiercely.
206 INT. RADIO SHACK
Brody picks up the radio, flicking on knobs and lights on the
Beg your pardon —
207 ANGLE – DOORWAY
Quint appears, silhouetted in the hot light of the door,
raising his bat.
Duty first and pleasure after —
208 CLOSE – BRODY
looking up in horror.
209 CLOSE – QUINT
Quint brings down the bat with all the strength he can muster.
Sparks fly, lights blink and go out, plastic and sections of
metal ricochet all over the cabin as Quint demolishes the ship-
Quint takes a happy breath, winks at Brody and hands him
(leaving the cabin)
If he were ten years older, Brody would be on the floor with
210 CLOSE – HOOPER
Coming right to us!
Quint grabs up his harpoon.
No — comin’ at us! Slow ahead
he’ll slam us, head on —
Slower! Throttle back —
211 ANGLE – OVER THE BOW
The shark is closing the gap, faster.
Hard to port!
Hooper pulls the boat into a tight turn and Quint has a shot
at the upward rolling flank. He sinks it with careful pre-
Try shakin’ that out!
Brody emerges from the cabin as the rope zips overboard, and
the barrel, changing over, catapults into the air before
plunging into the ocean in a cloudy splash.
(shouting to Hooper)
This won’t kill it!
Swing around! After him!
212 ON THE FLYBRIDGE
Hooper can see the fin racing ahead of the barrel. Diving
down. Up again — Quint prepares another iron.
More gas…go to half! Get me
right alongside him —
The engine thuds and knocks.
We can’t rev it up this high —
Suddenly the barrel gongs into the side of the Orca.
Hooper skillfully avoids the speeding rope.
Quint leans to one side, harpoon over his head. The
Great White breaks water and….
Take two, they’re small!
He sinks it deep. We hear shots. As the new rope whips out,
Brody can be seen standing on the gunwale, clutching the
steel cage with one hand, firing his pistol at the shark
with the other.
Quint shakes his head in amused disbelief at this, as the
barrel goes over.
(shouting at Brody)
Don’t shoot him any more! He’s
crazy on his own blood already!
I can’t stand here doing nothing!
Order in the court!
213 WATER LEVEL ANGLE
He has seen the two barrels pop to the surface.
Three’ll do it! He’s havin’
trouble with two!
He yells to Hooper and Brody as he swings behind the controls.
Grab yourselves a couple of poles!
Quint steers “Slow Ahead,” engine protesting, as he maneuvers
toward the moving barrels. Quint peers down, steering closer
Get ready! Now snag ’em!
Together Brody and Hooper hook a barrel-rope and hold on for
dear life as the shark changes course.
Pull in the ropes and tie ’em onto
the transom — free ride.
Brody and Hooper pull in with all they are worth as Quint
helps out by wheeling in a circle. He laughs to himself,
enjoying the spectacle.
214 CLOSE – HOOPER
securing the rope to a cleat but allowing the barrel to hang
overboard. He helps Brody with his chore on a second
215 WIDE ANGLE – ORCA
The boat is jarred violently from side to side as the under-
water force of the Great White jerks and heaves them to and
fro, up and down, side to side….
216 ANGLE – HOOPER AND BRODY
are both torn off their feet as the boat is thrust forward.
217 FLYBRIDGE – QUINT
sees the fin ahead. It is pulling the boat.
Get tired! That’s the idea!
Here’s a little reverse for you!
The shark leaps partially out of the water, and the sight is
both horrifying and awesome. Its jaws break water, snapping
at the ropes that have him snarled and frustrated.
Quint throws the Orca into neutral and shouts down:
Haul in — watch the prop!
At that, Quint slides down to the prow, grabs up an iron.
It is too light. He grabs another, finding satisfaction in
its heft and balance. The shark can be seen directly ahead,
Now! Untie ’em! Quick — Now!
He sinks the iron, and the shark veers downward in a gushing
shower of spray.
218 HOOPER AND BRODY
They are trying to untie from the cleats, but both ropes are
stretched too taut. They jump out of the way as the ropes
stretch down the side and behind the boat, knocking over
objects as it skeeters across the deck. A tight jerking
motion, and the Orca is dragged through the water — backwards.
And much too fast. Water is splashing up over the transom
in its backward wake.
I said untie them —
Wrenched to one side, Quint is knocked from his feet.
219 CLOSE – THE TWO CLEATS
A moment of slackness, and then a great surge of raw strength.
The rope snaps the cleats off, screws and splintered wood
spraying — and the barrels fly into the water. They dis-
appear beneath the turbulent grey surface.
The three men, breathing heavily, bruised and pouring sweat,
look out at the blank water.
220 ANGLE – OCEAN
Pop — pop — pop. One, two, three, the barrels surface —
ready for more.
He can’t go deep now, or far,
either. Not with those. Not for
Brody looks down at his feet. There is salt water up to their
What about us?
Have to pump her steady, s’all.
The barrels start a wide circle, each cuts through the water,
pushing a wave before it and leaving a wake behind.
Follow him —
You start pumpin’ out here.
Quint tosses Brody the hand pump, then picks up his 30.06,
checks the load.
Maybe a brain shot…one lucky
He’s heading under — !
No way! He can’t!
221 ANGLE – OCEAN
The barrels approaching the Orca dip below the surface, one
— two — three.
Where’d he go?
Brody looks around. Hooper on the flying bridge searching
in all directions. Quint is looking more appalled every
He can’t stay down with three
barrels on him! What are we
dealing with here?! Where is he?!
Have you ever had one do this?
(and he means this)
BOOMING THUD at the keel. Brody slides on the wet deck and
Quint loses his footing, falling into Brody’s arms.
222 HOOPER – FLY BRIDGE
With him we watch the barrels pop up ahead of the bow then
veer briskly to the left and plunk down again.
I can’t see him!
223 CLOSE – BRODY
Panic-ridden, barely in control.
There — !
The barrels have surfaced and we see the lengthy shadow passing
underneath the Orca. It is incredibly huge, there’s always
more of it. There is a SCRAPING NOISE. Quint looks down as
two of the barrels drag along the sides of the boat.
He’s trying to sink us!
Dead astern! Zig-zag!
There is something different about Quint. He’s quieter now,
more icily calm. The colorful c**kiness has left him. Brody
senses that Quint knows he’s in a fight for his life.
The Orca taking evasive action. But the three barrels are
steadily closing the gap. The engine makes SLOSHING NOISES
now…missing and backfiring.
He’s chasing us…I don’t believe
Full throttle — to port!
He gooses the throttle but the engine only screeches and
pounds erratically. The three barrels pass beyond the boat,
negotiating a tight circle and plowing mercilessly toward
the Orca. The tip of the fin aims for the stern. Quint
is ready with his rifle.
The shark breaks water and rises like a rocket, snout, jaw
and pectoral fins shooting straight up. We see the smoke-
white belly, the pelvic fin, as it clears the surface and
falls sideways drenching Quint, who fires six times.
The Orca shudders from side to side. From Hooper’s point of
view we can just discern what is happening. The shark has
the lower transom in its jaws and is shaking the boat with
each jolt of its head. Quint shoots until spent. Brody
seizes a gaff and drives it down at the conical nose again
Throttle back — !
When they next peer out, the dorsal fin can be seen gliding
away, beginning a long circle around the Orca.
Right about now the Orca’s engine breathes its final fumes
225 CLOSE – BRODY AND QUINT
Utter dismay. Hooper turns the key, the motor wheezes…but
the engine is dead.
226 ANGLE – QUINT
His eyes flick from Hooper to the transom. It is cracked!
Then out at the barrels…they don’t seem to be moving.
Maybe we killed it?
(don’t I wish)
We didn’t kill it.
In rebuttal the barrels begin to move again, closer, in
tighter concentric circles.
227 ON DECK – HOOPER
slipping into his weight-belt, strapping on his compressed
air tanks. Nobody wants to stop him this time…even Quint
helps him on with things.
Your pumps are out too. Drop me
down to twenty feet or so, okay?
Hooper walks over to the cage. Opens the steel doors and
closes himself in.
Try and keep him off me till I’m
Quint nods grimly and Hooper brandishes the pole with affixed
syringe. He give him a thumbs up and Hooper absently returns
it. Quint circles the deck, eye on the barrels.
228 HOOPER AND BRODY
on opposite sides of the bars.
(with a reassuring
Lower away, Chief.
He pops his mouthpiece between teeth and lowers the face
mask. Unsure, Brody manages to undo the knot that starts the
cage into the ocean. He and Hooper stare at one another as
their faces pass, Hooper’s moving down, down into the slate-
grey sea. Brody curls the rope around his forearm for a
That’s the way Chief.
Live and learn.
229 UNDERWATER – CAGE
HOOPER’S POINT OF VIEW
Submerging. The sky, horizon, water line, clean fresh sea
air then…the magnificent innerspace, with bubbles sparkling
in front of us.
230 ANGLE – HOOPER IN THE CAGE
as he floats to twenty feet Hooper never stops looking around
360 degrees. He removes the rubber guard from the needle and
231 EXT. THE SURFACE – BRODY AND QUINT
Their turning heads tell us that the barrels are still
circling. Suddenly, both heads stop turning.
232 THE SEA
The barrels have come to a stop. Delicately, they change
course and meander toward the lowered cage.
233 UNDERWATER – HOOPER
His back is to us. He is just now completing a visual sweep
and turns, eyes front into closeup and: fixes wildly on
something monstrous…and fascinating.
234 HOOPER’S POINT OF VIEW
The water is clear and shafts of sunlight streak downward
in the blue. From the deep gloom — diving slowly, smoothly
— comes the shark. It move with no apparent effort, sinuous
beyond comparison. As it nears the cage, it turns, and its
ghastly length passes right in front of him: first the snout,
then the jaw, slack and smiling, then the black eye.
Hooper tentatively reaches out. It is too far for the
strychnine pole. The vinyl flesh is pocked with bullet holes,
iron scars, gaffing hooks and strange open wounds that tinge
the passing currents with pink.
The trailing barrels GONG and SCRATCH the keel of the Orca
above. Brody and Quint leap back.
236 HOOPER – CLOSE
The shark has vanished into a cloud of rising silt. Hooper,
expecting the shark to attack out of that same general
direction, braces himself, pole extended through the bars,
breathing faster, straining his eyes into the gloom and…we
see that the shark attacking from behind him.
The cage is sent careening. Hooper grabs the bars for dear
life. The shark has grabbed the steel struts in its brutal
jaws, shaking the cage relentlessly from side to side, bending
the bars like clothes hangers. Hooper can’t turn the point-
end of the pole around, his body jammed as far away from the
non-rational attacker as possible.
Hooper is trapped.
The shark withdraws to get some running room then charges again.
The bleeding snout thrust deeper into the yawing bars, the
jaws snapping and twisting, two feet from Hooper’s torso, the
tail thrusting it forward. Hooper drops the strychnine pole
between the bars and it tumbles slowly toward rapture depth.
All the shark needs is one more good thrust before separating
Hooper at the waistline. Through frantic bubbles Hooper
fumbles with the overhead hatch cover, kicking up and out
of the cage. The shark backpedals with its tail, but the
broad head won’t shake loose.
Hooper rushes downwards, after the strychnine pole.
238 ANGLE – SHARK
As spirals of harmless bullets bead the water, the shark twists
free of the cage and arrows downward after Hooper.
Hooper nearly recovers the pole. Again it slips from his
frightened grasp and this time disappears into a narrow
abyss. Hooper turns and looks up.
The Great White is lunging at him, twenty feet above.
One of the barrel ropes snakes around the cage rope and pulls
240 HOOPER – DEEP
Turning to meet the monster which — though held back for a
moment by the snarled rope — now surges forward.
241 SURFACE – BRODY AND QUINT
The Orca is listing dangerously aft, the ginpole bent almost
to the breaking point. Brody is in a frenzy trying to haul
up the cage. Quint attaches the end of Brody’s rope to a
hand-winch. The GINPOLE IS SPLITTING!
Let go of it!
The pole gives way, the rope whipping down on the gunwale….
the pulling of the tonnage below is tipping the Orca, dragging
it, but Quint won’t give up the winch. Brody hauls on the
242 UNDERWATER – HOOPER
maneuvering downward, away from the jaws…Suddenly the crazed
shark veers upward for the surface.
243 SURFACE – QUINT
The winch is working faster now, Quint demonically winding
it in. The crushed cage bangs against the hull then breaks
Brody is horrified. THE CAGE IS EMPTY!
(a horrible scream)
He’s comin’ up — !
244 MASTER ANGLE
The shark breaks water right beside the Orca, rising with a
great whooshing noise. It rises vertically, towering over-
head, blocking out the sun. The pectoral fins seem to reach
forward. The shark, in all of its monstrous glory, falls onto
the stern of the boat with a shattering crash, narrowly
missing Quint and Brody. It drives the stern underwater,
the ocean pours in over the transom. The jaws snap from side
to side. Brody flounders backwards away from it. Quint
gropes for his rifle and fires. The shark heaves its terrible
girth and Quint flies backwards onto his harpoon display.
245 CLOSE – QUINT
Skewered by a Number Twelve iron, Quint gulps blood and
pitches into the onrushing sea.
246 NIGHTMARE ANGLE – BRODY
The Orca is tipping backwards, sinking stern first, tipping
Brody toward the gaping thrusting jaws. Deck chairs, irons,
spent cartridges, thermos, beer cans all pour into the
vacuum of the open gagging jaws. It wants Brody now, its
tail keeping him into position.
Brody is sliding toward it with the rest of the debris as
the bow raises thirty degrees. He intercepts one of Hooper’s
compressed air tanks and just as he and everything else pours
toward the whirlpool and into the jaws, Brody braces himself
and shoves the tanks at the bottomless pit. They jam between
the upper and lower jaws and stick fast.
The shark twists backward in the water and turns away. Hooper,
rising, is peering around for Brody and Quint. The shark is
spinning in crazed circles, the head-thrusts indicating that
it can neither dislodge nor swallow the silver tanks. It
bites down at fifteen tons pressure per square inch. The
247 SURFACE – EXPLOSION
A thirty-foot geyser of bright red water touches the black
sky, spreading everywhere, missing nothing.
Clouds of blood — shark’s suspended carcass. Another cloud
— Quint suspended.
249 SURFACE – THE ORCA
sinks with a rumble.
250 CLOSE – HOOPER ON SURFACE
Raising his mask from the water, he kicks toward Brody.
The steel-grey body of the shark is falling away, an apparition
evanescing into the darkness — sinking in a slow, graceful
spiral, stopped by the bobbing barrels.
252 SURFACE – BRODY AND HOOPER
Brody is holding onto a cushion, barely afloat, in shock.
Quint…Quint…is he dead?
Hooper crosses Brody’s chest with his left arm, keeping him
up in the water.
Don’t talk. We’ve got a long way.
253 HIGH SHOT
The two tiny, miserable heroes, swimming from the debris.
Movie | Film Script: Jaws (Final Draft)