Sharks and mojitos

It's a sunny summer afternoon, the sand burns underfoot and the heat blurs the outlines of the crowded beach. A thirst-quenching mojito would be needed to try to quench our thirst and our thoughts, but not even lime and fresh mint would be enough to cool us down. Perhaps a nice dive into the infinite blue that stretches out before us... Simple, right? For many, yes, but not for everyone. In fact, there is a category of people who suffer from selacophobia, or the terror of sharks, which makes it impossible for them to even bathe on the shore. These predators, the enormous sons of a dentist, with expressionless eyes and rapid movements, actually populate our most fearful imagination.

Since the time of Homer, the creatures of the deep, that swim in the colorless depths, have something demonic, and have inspired many epic tales of sea crossings at least until the nineteenth century. But it is since 1975, with the release of the film Jaws by Steven Spielberg, that the fear of the unknown coming from the depths has more clearly taken on the appearance of this predator. Composing the disturbing soundtrack of this famous film is John Williams, who entrusts two simple notes (E and F), with the task of transmitting to the viewer an anguishing sense of danger. Two notes that are only a semitone apart, but capable of creating a very strong tension, precisely through the very slight shift in intonation from one to the other, in a sinister and threatening repetition.

And to think that, when John Williams proposed his idea for the theme to Spielberg, the director, convinced it was a joke, responded with a laugh. It seemed impossible that such a simple idea, namely the repeated use of a semitone, could have such a terrifying effect. Williams entrusted the execution of the theme to a tuba, which had to play the highest notes it could. The spectator, hearing those two sinister notes, immediately expected the arrival of the carnivore. And Williams also knew well the expressive potential of silence: only at the end, during the final attack of the shark on the boat of its hunters, the music falls silent, creating an even more intense effect. In the memorable scene of the cage, used by marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) to safely descend underwater, the music is brilliantly integrated with the images: as soon as the cage is attacked by the shark, the high-pitched, strident strings give voice to the biologist's cries of fear, muffled by his diving mask. And accompanying the images of the damaged cage is fast, pauseless music, accelerated like poor Matt's heartbeat, whose ascent to the surface and to safety is underlined shortly after by the fast notes of a harp, which evokes the wave motion of the sea.

John Williams' music, in short, forces us throughout the film to do short but frequent apnea exercises, like when we briefly dive to contemplate the beauty of underwater nature. By the way, wasn't it time to cool off with a dive? So to that sad shark painted in such a wicked way, I would now like to say (borrowing a line from another famous film about these cute aquatic animals – Shark tale – a 2004 animated film): «Come here, appinnami!!!!».

Mauro Tabasso
with Valentina Giaresti
NP June / July 2024