TALES FROM KIM'S CRYPT
THIS MONTH SHARKS
I SAW JAWS on a re-release in 1980. For some reason, Steven Spielberg’s exercise in suspense and gore went round the Saturday-matinée circuit that cinemas used to have for Disney cartoons and British romps about well-spoken kids foiling bank robbers. That audience reacted to Jaws the way Ancient Romans enjoyed the Colosseum on a day the lions were especially frisky — with gasps, cheers, flying popcorn and a standing ovation for the final fate of Bruce. Contrary to expectation, juniors sat still for the quieter stuff — no checking out TikTok on their mobiles during Robert Shaw’s USS Indianapolis speech at this point — and nervously slurped Kia-Ora as John Williams’ theme suggested the shark was out there, hungry for chompable children or unwary skinny-dippers. Now I come to think of it, the cinema was the ABC Brighton: one street away from the seafront. Thanks to Jaws, holdaymakers wouldn’t feel safe on that shark-free beach for decades.