The collapse of classical Hollywood’s studio system in the 1960s mirrored much of America’s cultural and political uncertainties at the time. The assassinations of the Kennedys and Martin Luther King, the civil rights movement and the escalating Vietnam war provided a background that destabilised the optimism with which the decade began.

It’s not surprising that narratives of many films at the time may have been hinting at an ominous dystopian turn.

The decade opened with Hitchcock’s premature dispatching of his heroine in Psycho (1960) and ended with the haphazard slaughter of Dennis Hopper’s protagonists in Easy Rider and George Roy Hill’s outgunned antiheroes in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (both 1969).

En route, Arthur Penn’s conclusion for Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, plus Mike Nichols’ finale for graduate Benjamin Braddock and Elaine Robinson in 1967, did little to reassure audiences that all was well in society or the cinema.

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But the 1970s offered some shoots of optimism. A new pack of filmmakers – versed in the best of international cinema – inveigled their way by luck, acumen or raw talent into the confidence of executives who were willing to give nerdy young cinephiles like Martin Scorsese, Brian de Palma, Frances Ford Coppola, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas a shot with studio funding.

Despite the concerns of executives at Universal Studios, Spielberg began shooting on the adaptation of Peter Benchley’s bestseller Jaws in May 1974. By the following summer it was an enormous hit with the public and critics. The blockbuster had arrived and a new kind of studio system was born.

Jaws is 50 years old this year, and it has earned the “classic” epithet. It invokes certain nostalgia for cinephiles and original audiences, many of whom fondly remember their first viewing.

Aside from any cultural wistfulness, however, feelings towards the film may very well be a harkening back to a pre-neoliberal era when the embers of baby-boomer optimism still smouldered.

Championing the everyman

The film ultimately supports the blue collar “everyman” who has idealism, moral courage and emotional empathy: an ordinary protagonist, predating movie superheroes, Jedi knights, muscular macho men and cyborgs, who could still take on the system and its vices and defeat the villain (on land or sea).

Most of the intense dramatic action – the battle between good and evil – is situated on the water. This displacement facilitates a useful comparative character study. On the ocean, police chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider), marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) and old sea-dog Quint (Robert Shaw) are strategically detached from the political and economic incentives that initiated the crisis in the first place.

Working-class tough guy, middle-class intellectual and honest, reliable cop, they are brave, determined and morally strong, representing a microcosm of the society they’ve left behind, and hope to save. True to the thinly disguised western that Spielberg’s film is, the fate of each man positions the film’s compass as it sails a course between the values of an evolved society and the forces of primitive nature, pitting one of the youngest evolved mammals against one of the oldest evolved fish.

However, it is in the first section of the film, set on dry land, where the political machinations of corruption, the distortion of truth for financial profit, the disregard of expertise and a manipulation of the media, are played out.

A key scene in the early part of the narrative frames the duplicity that led to the avoidable death of the first victims. After the first shark attack, pressure is put on Chief Brody by Amity’s Mayor Vaughn (Murray Hamilton) to reopen the beaches despite the threat to holidaymakers on the island.

Mayor Vaughn We’re really a little anxious that you’re, eh, rushing into something serious here. This is your first summer, you know.

Chief Brody What does that mean?

Mayor Vaughn I’m only trying to say that Amity is a summer town. We need summer dollars.

The message is simple: economic prosperity takes precedence over human life. The strategy is straightforward: deride and deny allegations, falsify the evidence, use media spin to conceal the truth and platform the politician’s personal agenda.

The propulsion of the plot into the second half of the film hinges on a later critical scene, which follows another shark attack. When their own boys become near victims of the predator, a shaken Vaughn is forcefully compelled by Brody to sign an agreement to pay a bounty hunter to find and kill the shark.

The rise of neoliberalism (the political and economic ideology that advocates free-market capitalism) in the late 1970s and 1980s brought about the reconfiguration of the middle class in the US. Without consciously predicting the impending political transformations, the film – released before these wider ideological and economic changes took hold – idealistically offers hope for that social group.

And while it may have been differently constituted under the Reagan and Thatcher governments, the public service sector (to which Brody belongs) existed in both America and Britain. Jaws implicitly and unproblematically acknowledged the reality of working-class sacrifice in Quint, while peddling the heroic survival of blue-collar police chief Brody.

In holding out hope for the affirmative action of the dedicated, moral hero, Jaws might have been too idealistic, even narratively conservative: real-world good guys don’t always win.

The phenomenal box office success of the film ran parallel with critical acclaim that has been reiterated in the five decades since its release. However, it marked the rejuvenation of a broken studio system that would soon energetically endorse the Reaganite neoliberalism of the following decade with films like The Empire Strikes Back (1980), Rambo: First Blood (1982), The Terminator (1984), Top Gun (1986) and Die Hard (1987).

The film has undeniably stood the test of time as a remarkable cinematic feat, but crucially, it ushered in a new age for Hollywood’s seduction of global audiences with sophisticated, aggressive marketing strategies. Jaws may have irredeemably villainised nature’s most enduring predator, but Spielberg’s blockbuster played a pivotal role in making Hollywood great again.

Barry Monahan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.