Jaws: The Revenge (1987) Review
Jaws: The Revenge (1987) Review
Following the frankly dire Jaws 3-D, the fourth instalment in the franchise returns us to Amity, where former Police Chief Martin Brody has apparently been frightened to death by the mere thought of another shark swimming past. His son Sean (Mitchell Anderson), who was terrified of the water in the previous film, has conveniently overcome his phobia, only to be promptly chewed to death by a vengeful shark in the opening sequence. Talk about a character arc.
The returning Lorraine Gary plays Ellen Brody, who becomes convinced that the shark is on a personal vendetta to wipe out the entire Brody clan. As ridiculous as that sounds, the film actually expects us to take the notion seriously. Her suspicions appear justified when the toothy menace follows her to the Bahamas, where she is staying with her other son, Michael (Lance Guest), and his family. Ellen promptly transforms into a budget Ripley, determined to stop the monster before it claims any more of her loved ones. One has to wonder, though, whether simply staying out of the water might be a more sensible strategy. Ellen’s eventual decision to tackle the beast alone in a sizeable boat is hardly a masterclass in self-preservation, particularly when she ends up flat on her face as the shark erupts from the water. Not exactly Sigourney Weaver, is she?
Factually, the film is all over the shop. Great white sharks are generally associated with cooler waters, making the tropical Bahamas an odd choice of hunting ground. More importantly, the idea that this particular shark can somehow identify individual members of the Brody family and track them across considerable distances is utterly preposterous. Then again, this is a film in which a shark apparently has a family blood feud, so perhaps scientific accuracy was never high on the agenda. The previous film’s events are also conveniently brushed under the carpet, allowing Sean to behave as though his earlier fear of open water never happened. Continuity, it seems, has become another casualty of the franchise.
Michael Caine turns up for what appears to be little more than a pay cheque, but at least he provides some entertainment, albeit largely for the wrong reasons. His involvement is perhaps best summed up by his famously self-deprecating response to questions about the film: “I have never seen it, but by all accounts it is terrible. However, I have seen the house that it built, and it is terrific.” Fair play to him. If you’re going to appear in a turkey of this magnitude, you might as well get a nice house out of it.
There is also a nagging suspicion that studio interference has neutered the film’s potential for genuine shark-induced carnage. For a Jaws sequel, the body count is remarkably anaemic, with only two people falling victim to the shark’s supposed crusade. Far too many characters find themselves conveniently within chomping distance, only to escape unscathed. The whole thing feels as though the producers wanted a family-friendly killer-shark adventure without upsetting anyone too much. Even the occasional shots of the shark surrounded by blood before it has actually attacked anyone suggest that someone wasn’t paying particularly close attention. And no, I’m not referring to the scenes involving deliberately bloodied bait.
Dire doesn’t quite cover it. Jaws: The Revenge is a spectacularly daft sequel that takes an already exhausted franchise and somehow finds new depths to plumb. The absurd premise, laughable shark behaviour and underwhelming body count make for a thoroughly toothless thriller. Michael Caine may have got a terrific house out of it, but the audience gets precious little in return.
