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THE FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS movie review

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Fantastic? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Somewhere, Doctor Doom is laughing—because the real villain here is the script. The Fantastic Four: First Steps is a superhero movie that boasts an eye-catching retrofuturistic aesthetic and the welcome return of a classically evil villain, but it stumbles narratively with a lopsided screenplay, fragmented character dynamics, and a superfluous Silver Surfer who’s more prop than presence. With a protracted first act, truncated second act, and anticlimactic third, the swing the screenplay makes results in a foul ball–not a complete miss. Ultimately, it feels like a blueprint more than a building—an origin story more concerned with establishing than enthralling. It may offer the glimmer of potential, but that potential is still waiting for a film that knows how to make the most of these characters and each other. For a franchise reboot that proudly wears its Jet Age design language on its sleeve—from sleek, chrome-laced laboratories to wardrobe choices evocative of a Tomorrowland dreamscape—it’s ironic that the narrative propulsion of First Steps feels so grounded.

Mister Fantastic, Invisible Woman, Human Torch, and the Thing face must defend the Earth against the evil Galactus and his henchman Silver Surfer.

One of Fantastic Four: First Steps‘ undeniable triumphs is its commitment to a bold, 1960s retrofuturistic aesthetic that feels lovingly ripped from the pages of a Silver Age comic book or the Saturday morning cartoons of yesteryear. From the clean, curved architecture to the brightly colored jumpsuits and analog-style gadgetry, the film creates a world brimming with mid-century optimism—where science gleams, and adventure is just a rocket launch away. It’s visually delightful, evoking a kind of lost future that’s both nostalgic and fresh. However, the illusion occasionally falters due to jarring technological inconsistencies—most notably, the inexplicable presence of flying police cars in a world where most other vehicles appear rooted in vintage combustion-era design. And, I’d be remiss not to mention the futuristic pregnancy test that doesn’t jive with the world around it. These moments by no means sink the aesthetic, but they do momentarily snap the viewer out of the carefully constructed retro bubble.

Had the screenplay been better developed, then it may have been a “fantastic” superhero movie. The first act overstays its welcome by devoting undue time to setup that borders on exposition overload. By the time the plot remembers to move forward, the second act breezes by in a montage-like sequence of conflicts and discoveries, depriving the audience of organic development. Then, just as stakes are positioned to crescendo, the third act fumbles its own climax—settling for a resolution that feels more contractual than cathartic. While I appreciate the under two-hour runtime, I would not be surprised if there are entire scenes and sequences left on the cutting room floor.

But the most glaring issue isn’t pacing—it’s people. Or rather, the lack of connection between them. The titular quartet never quite gels. Chemistry between Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben is virtually nonexistent, with interactions that feel less like family dynamics and more like coworkers meeting on a Monday morning Zoom call. Attempts at humor or sentimentality fall flat, not because the lines are poorly written (though many are), but because the actors rarely feel like they’re occupying the same emotional wavelength. Pescall and Kirby have solid chemistry, and separately Quinn and Moss-Bachrach have fantastic comedic chemistry; but collectively, Marvel’s first family is lacking in sufficient chemistry. However, compared to previous cinematic attempts, seeking to adapt the Fantastic 4 for the big screen, this one is the strongest attempt.

Silver Surfer’s inclusion is more puzzling than pivotal. A character of mythic stature reduced here to a glorified Uber driver with a shiny board. She floats in and out of scenes with little impact on the plot, contributing neither urgency nor depth. Her presence suggests a franchise desperate to expand its cosmic CV but unsure of how to weave her meaningfully into the narrative tapestry. In fact, Silver Surfer could be removed from the story, and pretty much everything plat out much in the same way. No mistaking it, there IS an interesting backstory there, but it was barely tapped and even less developed. I am not suggesting Silver Surfer needs a movie or TV series, but a few more minutes of development in this movie, wouldn’t have hurt anything.

I did enjoy the refreshing return of a classic villain in Galactus. So often, modern cinema and television go to great lengths to demonstrate how villains are merely misunderstood or solely formed by societal factors–not Galactus. He’s neither misunderstood nor sympathetic. Just evil. In an era where antagonists are often softened by tragic backstories or moral ambiguity, the choice to lean into a classically malevolent foe is surprisingly refreshing. The character brings weight and threat to the film, standing as a stark reminder that sometimes the best villains are the ones who like being bad.

To the movie’s credit, audiences can watch it without having to know much about the Fantastic 4 and there is little need to watch any preceding movies or TV series. That said, I’ve been told that there are TV series and movies that will help to better understand or appreciate certain elements–but not required. When it’s all said and done, The Fantastic Four: the First Steps is sufficiently enjoyable and doesn’t overstay its welcome. Feels like a late summer movie, and there’s nothing innately wrong with that.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

SUPERMAN (2025) movie review

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SuperFULL. James Gunn’s Superman is bursting at the seams with plots and characters, resulting in an overwhelming experience. But, the lead characters and hero’s journey are truly super. While weak on narrative, Gunn’s take on the man of steel sticks the landing on the lead characters. And it’s the characters that will keep you sufficiently enough vested in the movie.

When Superman gets drawn into conflicts at home and abroad, his actions are questioned, giving tech billionaire Lex Luthor the opportunity to get the Man of Steel out of the way for good. Will intrepid reporter Lois Lane and Superman’s four-legged companion, Krypto, be able to help him before it’s too late?

While the plotting and many characters lack fine-tuning, David Corenswet’s Clark/Superman and Nicholas Hoult’s Lex Luthor feel like extensions of their comic book origins–in all the best ways possible. Corenswet delivers a Superman that displays the strength and powers that are synonymous with the character, but Gunn adds in a discernible human dimension that has long-since been missing in Superman to make him more human, more relatable. Hoult’s Lex Luthor is nightmarishly deplorable and demonstrates the power of greed. Rachel Brosnahan’s Lois Lane strikes a fantastic balance between hard-hitting journalist and romantic; the chemistry between Corenswet and Brosnahan land on an ideal formula for character development and an old-fashioned romance.

Gunn underscores the movie with some thoughtful social commentary on the fickleness of society, terrifying power of social media, and fickle nature of broadcast media. He cleverly embeds this timely commentary beneath the movie’s spectacle, offering a pointed critique of our shallow, performative culture. Through Clark’s interactions with a world obsessed with optics and outrage, the film holds a mirror to the hollow validation of social media, where sincerity is traded for virality and truth becomes secondary to trend. Gunn also confronts the fickle nature of society itself — how easily the public elevates heroes only to tear them down at the slightest misstep, revealing more about our own insecurities than the hero’s flaws. Even broadcast media doesn’t escape unscathed; the film paints it as a machine of half-truths and spectacle, perpetuating narratives that distort rather than illuminate. In these ways, Superman emerges not just as a story of a man learning to save the world, but as a subtle indictment of a world that seems increasingly uninterested in being saved — at least, not sincerely.

James Gunn’s choice to craft a more human, more relatable Superman is not just a bold creative pivot — it’s an overdue course correction for a character who, for decades, has too often felt like a distant monument rather than a man. Traditionally, Superman has been written and portrayed as a flawless demigod: morally unassailable, physically unstoppable, and emotionally impenetrable — admirable, yes, but also alienating and, frankly, boring. Gunn understands that audiences connect most deeply not with perfection but with struggle, doubt, and vulnerability. By leaning into Clark Kent’s humanity — his insecurities, his quiet kindness, his yearning to belong — Gunn breathes new life into a character long encased in marble. In doing so, he not only makes Superman interesting again but also reminds us that heroism is not about being invincible; it’s about being profoundly, recognizably human.

For all its noble intentions and flashes of brilliance, Gunn’s Superman suffers from a narrative that simply has far too much going on — and not in a way that feels rich or layered, but cluttered and exhausting. In trying to weave together a pantheon of ancillary characters, subplots, and Easter eggs, the film forgets that its emotional core should be Clark Kent’s journey, not a checklist of cameos and teases for future installments. The supporting players, while individually intriguing on paper, pile up to such an extent that they suffocate the story rather than enrich it, leaving audiences with a nagging sense of being overwhelmed rather than immersed. Instead of honing in on what makes Superman compelling, the movie disperses its energy in too many directions, diluting its impact and leaving the viewer wishing it had trusted more in simplicity — and in its titular hero.

Definitely not your dad or grandfather’s Superman; however, this is a Superman that remains super yet connects with audiences through the human dimension.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

JURASSIC WORLD: REBIRTH movie review

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Possesses dino DNA, but missing strands and sequences, leaving an uneven and forgettable movie. Jurassic World: Rebirth begins with an intriguing enough premise, but the characters are poorly written, which is then amplified by way of a subplot that only serves to clutter the story. After a rough first two acts–except for a thrilling and fantastically written T-Rex chase scene (that was part of Crichton’s original novel and script for Jurassic Park)–the third act is surprisingly exciting and suspenseful, and at times terrifying.

Zora Bennett (Scarlet Johansson) leads a team of skilled operatives to the most dangerous place on Earth, an island research facility for Jurassic World. Their mission is to secure genetic material from dinosaurs whose DNA can provide life-saving benefits to mankind. As the top-secret expedition becomes more and more risky, they soon make a sinister, shocking discovery that’s been hidden from the world for decades.

Perhaps Koepp’s screenwriting works best when the original version of a script is written by the novel’s author (which, I know wasn’t possible for this movie in more ways than one), and he then crafts the original version to be more effective for the screen. To put it simply, no one knows what is going on or when/where they are. Harsh? Not really, when the movie opens with lazy exposition through on screen text describing an event that happened 17 years ago…keep that in mind, 17 years (placing it in line with Jurassic World not Jurassic Park). But then the characters talk about the research and development facility as if it was connected to the original park–not possible. Even popcorn movies should adhere to the logic of their own world building. It’s as if no one thought about the events that unfold in this movie, and how they relate to the previous movies. Kind of basic storytelling logic.

There are many elements of this movie that fail to make any logical sense (and again, that is the logic setup by the movie itself) or are setup, and never developed or connected to any motivation or stakes. To go into them, would take too much time.

Aside from logic problems, the movie is plagued by poorly written characters, an extraneous, shoehorned subplot, and weak first and second acts (with one exception in the second act that was thrilling). While I appreciate the minimalistic cast of characters compared to the cast of characters in all the Jurassic World movies, there are two competing groups that are pretty much independent of one another and could have each been in their own movie altogether. Yet, somehow, they are sloppily fused together in this movie. For argument’s sake, we’ll call them the Mercenaries and the Family. The Mercenaries and their outside/action plot are fine–I’d even go so far as to say ‘that’ story is sufficiently interesting. The Family and their plot felt extraneous and ultimately of little importance to anything that happened. It’s as if there were two different movie ideas (1) centered on the Harvesters and (2) the Family. And I think either by itself would have made for a better movie than putting them together. These decisions left the movie feeling muddled and crowded.

There is a T-Rex sequence in the second act that is fantastic! It very much harkens back to the sci-fi horror-adjacency of the original movie. Of course it helps that Crichton’s original Jurassic Park novel and screenplay thereof contained a similar sequence. Fun fact: this sequence in the novel and original Crichton screenplay served as the inspiration for Jurassic Park: The Ride at Universal Studios parks. It plays out wonderfully in this movie, like a short film in and of itself, because it’s setup well, developed strategically, and resolved thrillingly.

Even though there are a couple of characters that are almost fun or compelling to watch (almost), the rest are more disposable than a red solo cup at a frat party. You’ll find yourself rooting for the dinosaurs to win. Of all the characters, there is one particularly so annoying and deplorably behaved, that you’ll want the first dinosaur you see to pick him off, (and question why on earth his girlfriend would be with him and why the dad would let the boyfriend walk all over him–answer, bad writing). Other characters are one-dimensional or the casting choice never sells the character. All around, there are many character and casting problems, resulting in a movie wherein you’ll hope the next dino attack happens soon–and preferably ends with one less character.

Where the movie “finds a way” to leave you on a high note, is in the third act. Despite the slapdash screenwriting throughout the first and second acts, the third act is wildly entertaining and even at times, terrifying! It almost compensates for the first hour and forty-five minutes. The (weird) dinos are “monsters” again, and the various chase sequences each offer something different (even though one is a recreation of the Kitchen Scene from the original movie). The stakes are raised and the level of terror leaps off the screen. So often, movies start well and fail to stick the landing; with this one, it fails to stick the launch but definitely sticks the landing.

SUffice it to say, if you took the first two acts from The Lost World: Jurassic Park, and paired them with the third act from Jurassic World: Rebirth, then you’d actually have a pretty good, memorable movie.

As an OG Jurassic Park fan (and Lost World apologist, except for the third act), I hate having to write reviews such as this one for a franchise installment. But, the more I thought about this movie, the more stupid it became. I suppose it’ll make for a fun enough 4th of July weekend watch, but doesn’t do much beyond that.

Perhaps, these movies will “find a way” back to greatness one day–doubtful as it seems.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

F1 THE MOVIE film review

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Starts on high octane, finishes on fumes. From the exhilarating technical achievement to the fantastic cast chemistry to the underdog story of redemption, it would appear that the “formula” for F1 was of sound design and execution; unfortunately, the character development is rushed and the third act simply doesn’t offer the adrenaline-pumping suspense and action as do the firsts two acts.

In the 1990s, Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt) was Formula 1’s most promising driver until an accident on the track nearly ended his career. Thirty years later, the owner of a struggling Formula 1 team convinces Sonny to return to racing and become the best in the world. Driving alongside the team’s hotshot rookie, Sonny soon learns that the road to redemption is not something you can travel alone.

If for no other reason, see this film on the biggest screen with the highest quality sound because Joseph Kosinski’s F1 is why the BIG screen was made. From beginning to end, the cinematography and editing deserve top billing for this picture because you will feel that you are right there in the crowd or with the drivers along the Grand Prix. Even if you know little to nothing about Formula 1 racing, you will never feel lost as there are sufficient context clues and exposition to keep you along for the 200mph ride. It would have been too easy to lean into the racing sequences, but the racing punctuates the rest of the story, so each and every time you are on the track of the Grand Prix, there has been an emotional and chemical reset from the previous racing scenes. Both the sound design and cinematography are outstanding in this octane-fueled motion picture.

The score from Hans Zimmer serves as a direct extension of both action and character in F1. His energetic score blends sweeping orchestration with pulsating electronic textures that wrap audiences in the big screen story. Zimmer’s ability to craft a human story inside a mechanical world is on full display in the film. Where his brilliance as a composer is witnessed most is in the rhythmic choices scene to scene. He employs musical motifs that emulate machinery or momentum, which in a sport where every millisecond matters, Zimmer’s percussive, syncopated techniques mirror the precision and stakes of the most elite motorsport. In a film that captures a motorsport that crosses cultural boundaries–a global sport–Zimmer’s score represents a cross-section of the various regions of the world that play host to Formula 1 and seamlessly transcends cultural boundaries, creating a sort of global score that resonates with audiences from around the world.

While the plotting is sound, and serves as the foundation for a compelling story, where the film suffers is in the character development and third act. The setup in the first act informs the audience of everything needed to understand our two central characters of Sonny and Joshua (Idris) and the two vastly different worlds in which they live yet are connected by the thrill and love of racing. Of course, this thrill and love is expressed differently based upon the difference in both generation and worldview. Everything needed for a compelling character journey formula is there, but falters in the third act. Underscoring the story is social commentary on our drive (or motivation) for pursuing a passion, be that a career or by extension, a hobby. And it’s in this motivation that we witness our central characters develop over the course of the narrative conflict.

Sonny is a cynical former (generation X) Formula 1 driver, that was once heralded as the newest star on the Grand Prix circuit. In contrast, Joshua “JP” is the (generation Z) talented and charismatic driver that is obsessed with his image (with help from his press manager). Both drivers excel in talent, but are each battling their own respective demons. Sonny and JP develop over the course of the film–each man’s worldview challenged. Sonny has to grow in team spirit and JP has to grow in humility. The character arcs on which both characters are traveling begin and even develop in compelling ways, even resonating with audience members that are somewhere on the spectrum between both individuals; but, the change in both characters is too rapid when the resolution comes in the third act. JP’s scenario appears to be the perfect canvas on which to paint a portrait of what happens when we lose focus on the love of a sport and rather find ourselves lost in the celebrity of it, lost in the toxic social media swamp. Sonny’s character arc feels more complete, but even his switch from where he was to where he ended resolved itself too quickly, losing the full impact that it could have had.

Kosinski’s casting decisions result in a cast that demonstrates excellence in chemistry. There is an authenticity in the relationships and dynamics among the lead and supporting cast. Never once, did I feel that I was watching actors–rather–I felt I was watching real Formula 1 drivers, crew, and investors. I completely buy the longtime relationship between Sonny and Reuben (Bardem), even though we spend minimal time on the history of their friendship. And the clashes between Sonny and the pit crew and directors never felt rehearsed or contrived.

Even though there are shortcomings in the third act, the film remains an exhilarating experience. Movies like this is that for which the BIG screen was created–to capture larger than life stories that most audience members will never face or experience.

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry

JAWS 50: Celebrating Fifty Years of Cinematic Legacy

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“[We’re] gonna need a bigger boat” as we celebrate the 50th anniversary of the massive, radical game-changing effects of Steven Spielberg’s career-defining JAWS.

Jaws was the first official blockbuster. Looking back at the original crowds of 1975, you’d think the movie was a one-night-only big event. Hence the term blockbuster. The adjective blockbuster, commonly attributed to big summer movies, literally derives from the fact that queues for the box office wrapped around city blocks. It busted the block, so to speak. And the rest is history! Coupled with the summer release date and ticket sales, the allure of Jaws generated levels of enthusiasm and interest never seen before. The film took in so much money at its opening, that it nearly made up the entire production budget by the end of the first week. Furthermore, distribution and marketing companies began to use Jaws as a model for future marketing efforts in order to attempt to generate another blockbuster effect.

Fun fact, two years earlier The Exorcist commanded massive crowds of people that wrapped around blocks to see the provocative motion picture. But, the initial release of the film was rather small and it’s marketing was much more reserved. In contrast, Jaws‘ marketing was unlike anything that had been seen before and it’s initial release was a extreme wide release, and upon that initial release crowds were already wrapping around the block. The Exorcist may have achieved the massive crowds first, but it was earned over time; whereas with Jaws, it was instantly a blockbuster from day one.

Never before had there been such a popular and critically successful film in cinemas. Much in the same way Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho is often credited, and rightly so, for being the first modern horror film and forerunner to the classic slasher; likewise, Spielberg’s adaptation of Peter Benchley’s novel Jaws is credited as the first modern creature feature horror film and forerunner to the blockbuster (or event movie). I am not negating King Kong, Creature from the Black Lagoon, or other predecessors; it’s important to take note of the word modern. Aside from excellent, visionary direction, both Psycho and Jaws have three important elements in common (1) powerhouse cast (2) strategic suspense and (3) a brilliant, oft-parodied, burned in your mind musical score.

Instead of building a thriller on shock value, disturbing imagery, or jump scares, author Peter Benchley’s screenplay for Jaws focussed on crafting a cinematic atmosphere that had an intimate, claustrophobic feel built upon well-crafted drama through character development and conflict, at the center of which is a little heart. Different from contemporary creature features, Jaws picks off swimmers in the single digits and those attacks all happen at a single beach on a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. And instead of an entire agency hunting down the man-killer shark, three unlikely men are forcibly thrown together in order to track down and eliminate the terror from the waters off Amity Island.

Simply stated, Jaws is thematically rich from beginning to end, and there is no way to capture all the nuances of the film in this section; however, I’d be remiss not to spend some time on the emotive power of the landmark horror film. At the core of Jaws’ expressive meaning, it explores themes of greed, scientific hubris, and the consequences of unchecked ambition. Suffice it to say, the most prominent theme in the film is the folly of man. The folly of man is expressed through the character-driven story more than it is the search and destroy of the shark.

Chief Brody’s fear of the water and his struggle to protect his community from the shark reflect universal anxieties about the unknown and the fragility of human safety. In a manner of speaking, Chief Brody journey is one of redemption for the death of the little Kitner boy. Matt Hooper represents scientific hubris and dangers of unchecked bravado. And Quint’s obsessive quest to hunt and kill the shark serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of pride and arrogance, highlighting the destructive power of man’s hubris in the face of nature. Interestingly, all three men are seen as outsiders. Chief Brody and his family are new to town, Hooper is a white collar guy in a blue collar town, and Quint is socially an outsider, despite being a fixture in the community. During the 1970s, there were growing fears of outsiders coming into communities to upset the natural order of things.

Keeping the principle cast and environment small, Spielberg was able to focus attention on character development and interpersonal relationships in order for the drama to perform strongly and naturalistically. Big things do come in small packages. Coupled with the strong performances from the entire leading cast, this brilliant combination of cinematic elements works together to give us some of the most memorable lines, scenes, and cinematography in movie history. Furthermore, real people swept up into an impossible situation and foolish decisions enable the audience to identify with the characters and the setting in ways that make the terror feel all the more real and close to home–or the beach.

While Bruce is often thought to be the villain of Jaws–and no mistaking it, he is definitely an antagonist–I argue that the true opposition to the goal in the plot is Amity’s mayor. If we accept the goal is to apprehend or kill the man-eating shark, then Mayor Vaughn serves as opposing that action. Perhaps you’ve never thought of the true villain of Jaws being Mayor Larry Vaughn. A close analysis of the plot reveals that Jaws (Bruce) functions more as a catalyst for the principle conflict between Chief Brody and Mayor Vaughn. Other than the death at the beginning of the film, the Mayor is indirectly responsible for the remaining deaths. After all, it’s due to his utter complacency, negligence, and classic greed that led to the other deaths.

For most of the film, we spend far more time with Chief Brody’s continued conflict dealing with the social pressures, desires, and ill-fated decisions of his boss than we do with shark attacks. Mayor Vaughn fails to acknowledge the sheer gravity of the dangerous situation, and close Amity’s beaches in order to keep his citizens safe. Interestingly, even Jaws channels some of the anxiety of the 1970s. After all, the primary reason why Mayor Vaughn refused to close the beaches was because it would economically depress his town that literally depends on the summer dollars. In effect, he fed them to the shark. Seems like a villainous action to me. Bruce was just being a shark, Vaughn was the true villain.

Jaws forever changed cinemas and became the inspiration for countless other filmmakers. Another prominent filmmaker even cited it as part of his inspiration for a film that would be like a combination of Jaws and a haunted house, set in space where “no one can hear you scream.” In addition to serving as inspiration, many films have tried imitating it, putting their own spin on the premise. Even comedic satires featuring similar plot points have released over the years. The film’s box office success solidified Spielberg as a visionary director. Interestingly, the movie sparked a renewed interest in marine biology and conservation. Its timeless appeal continues to captivate audiences with thrilling storytelling, unforgettable characters, and groundbreaking practical effects. Jaws will forever hold a special place in the annals of film history and continue to be a holiday horror film that hundreds of thousands around the U.S. watch every 4th of July. 

Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media in Panama City and host of the public radio show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry