Curtis Sittenfeld explores power of female friendship in middle age in latest story collection
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American writer Curtis Sittenfeld's latest short story collection Show Don't Tell reflects the messiness of modern life and the complexity of human desire and emotion.
From a woman looking back at rude characters from her MFA, years earlier, to another visiting friends she hasn't seen since her divorce, the collection examines the trials and triumphs of middle age with Sittenfeld's signature wit and humour.
"[ Show Don't Tell ] is a celebration of middle-aged friendship and friends that you've known for many decades or people that you were very close to in your teens or 20s and then you're still thinking about experiences you had with them when you're in your 50s," said Sittenfeld on Bookends with Mattea Roach.
Sittenfeld is the writer of novels including Rodham, Prep and Romantic Comedy and the short story collection You Think It, I'll Say It. She is based in Minneapolis.
On Bookends, she joined Roach to discuss the power of female friendship in middle age — and how time can warp the things we've done.
In Show Don't Tell, there's this through line of close female friendship in midlife. Can you talk a bit about how you came to a point where you wanted to write about this?
Certainly in my own life, my friendships are incredibly important to me. The friend that I walk with almost every Saturday morning and then the friend that I walk with on Sunday morning, that's more like on a monthly basis. But in both cases, it's like pouring out our souls.
One of them, we walk for an hour and a half and then we stand in front of her house because we're not finished covering it all. I have kids. I have an older mother. A lot of people I know also have kids. They also have aging parents. People's marriages are not always stable through their 40s or before or after that. So there's just like all kinds of life challenges that come up. And I do think, I mean, this is such a sort of obvious thing to say, but such a true thing, having people to confide in and talk through your experiences can really make you feel so much better, even if the external experience doesn't change.
Having people to confide in and talk through your experiences can really make you feel so much better, even if the external experience doesn't change.
Why did you want to explore marriages that are breaking down and marriages that are facing a significant challenge in many of your stories?
In a larger sense, this is my second story collection and I sometimes think, had my story collections come out when I was in my 20s, I would have written stories that were more different from each other for the sake of being different from each other almost to prove to the world that I could.
In Show Don't Tell, these stories are very much about being middle-aged, being American, Midwestern, with mostly female protagonists. Slightly making fun of my own book, I say it's mostly about grouchy, liberal Midwestern women. And so I do think that I'm kind of approaching similar characters from slightly different angles. All writers have their own preoccupations. And I do think a certain kind of intimacy and marriage and family life and relationships is one of my preoccupations.
Some of these stories feature characters who are reflecting on experiences in their late teens or early 20s, but they're doing so from middle age. How does it feel to dive back into that period of time from the perspective of somebody who's in their 40s?
I feel like the passage of time is the ultimate plot twist. If you see a person and you haven't seen them for like 20 or 30 years, it's wild and fascinating, even if they have not done that much that's like objectively interesting — I mean, of course everyone's lives are interesting in their own way — but but a person can barely have left their house for 30 years and it's still like, "Oh my God, they're 30 years older and they barely left their house." That's its own story. That's part of it.
It's interesting to gain life experience or to go through moments of cultural shift and the meaning of a moment in our own memory changes.
I'm fascinated by the fact that we can have an experience or like an interaction with another person and nothing about that changes. In a way, it's frozen in time and again, 10 or 20 or 30 years passes and our interpretation of that experience or that interaction can completely change. It can be that we were very resentful of the other person and then we realized, "Oh no, I was in the wrong." Or, I felt like I was so rude, but that person was actually being incredibly sexist or whatever.
It's interesting to gain life experience or to go through moments of cultural shift and the meaning of a moment in our own memory changes.
In Show Don't Tell, there's a sense that there's a lot of opportunity and self-assuredness that can come with middle age. Is that something that you were trying to put across at all in this collection?
I absolutely feel that way. I don't know if I was trying to put it across or if it just came through in terms of my trying to depict a kind of reality that I see, which is like, I think that that middle age can be very painful. Life will have its way with you no matter who you are.
And it can be really beautiful. You can have these really close friendships, you can learn from your earlier mistakes. You can have these experiences as a parent that are so frustrating and then so deeply touching. You can contextualize that the good stuff should be savoured and you hope the bad stuff will pass. It might or might not pass. There are dark and light elements of the collection, but I see middle age as a really wonderful time, not a depressing time.
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Montreal Gazette
15 hours ago
- Montreal Gazette
Where the rich and famous stay on Grand Prix weekend
News By Montreal's the Ritz-Carlton was launched with quite the bang on New Year's Eve in 1912, and the party has yet to stop at this ever-chichi Golden Mile institution more than a century later. The Ritz's Royal Suite was also inaugurated that soirée following the bash, and while there's nothing official about who bedded down there then, speculation is that it was some prominent captain of industry. But the suite, although altered over the years, has since drawn more than its fair share of regal figures — among them, Queen Elizabeth II and family — as well as heads of state and noted dignitaries from around the planet. But come the annual Canadian Grand Prix here — this year taking place June 13-15 at Circuit Gilles-Villeneuve — it has hosted another kind of royalty: top-tier F1 drivers, high-end Hollywood celebs and CEOs, as they are among the precious few able to pony up its $18,000-a-night cost — with a four-night minimum. Of course, this is no run-of-the-mill suite. Spread over 4,700 square feet, this mini-palace features one principal bedroom, two not-so-minor bedrooms, four bathrooms, a dining area, a separate dining and living room, and all manner of eye-catching art and antiquities over the suite's exquisite marble flooring. And as a bonus, complimentary wireless internet and a coffee/tea maker just in case that might be a deal breaker. Under 'posh' in dictionaries, the definition could well include a pic of this space. Suffice it to say that Grand Prix week is the most impactful business period of the year in these parts, fuelling our economic engine like no other event in the city and estimated to be generating around $100 million in revenues. A large chunk of that cash comes from tourists, mostly American and European, who get a big wallop for their buck from our dollar — in the U.S. 70-cent range — and who spend liberally with gusts to wildly at city boutiques and restaurants. Nor do they hold back on hotel room expenses, and hoteliers, ever wise to the ways of supply and demand, are able to up the ante on what they charge over this period. Regardless, our hotels are nearly fully booked for the period, and quite often reserved many months in advance of the actual race. For the record, the Ritz's Royal Suite can be had for a mere $12,000 a night the rest of the year — not exactly a commoner's price but still a relative cash break. The Ritz, with its 120 other luxurious rooms, has by no means the market cornered on lavish suites in town. The downtown Le Mount Stephen Hotel, within eyeshot of the Ritz, has a most stately, 5,000-square-foot penthouse suite, replete with an outdoor terrace and countless amenities like an in-house butler. The hotel can even install a private gym — at a price — should its occupant so desire. The suite can go for up to $15,000 a night — gym not included, with a four-night minimum during race week. It is rumoured that no less than British F1 royalty figure Lewis Hamilton has spent quality time here in the past and might even return again. Of course, it has been rumoured that Sir Lewis has stayed at the Ritz. Le Mount Stephen also offers three Sky Loft Suites, two Luxury Suites and seven Junior Suites going from $3,000 to $5,000 a night. Its other 90 rooms start at $1,300 a night. Not to be outdone is W Montreal at Square Victoria with its three EWOW suites, each with an outdoor terrace affording a panoramic overview of the city with nary an orange cone in sight. The W also has the aptly named WOW suites without terraces. Prices range from $1,300 to $5,000 a night — with a four-night minimum. Without doubt, though, the Ritz is turbo-charged for the Grand Prix, whether or not those who surface there occupy any of its suites, although many of the race's major players and visitors have also booked some of the hotel's 129 rooms, which start at $3,200 a night — with four-night minimum — with prices spiralling upwards toward the $18,000 Royal Suite. No matter, since the entire inventory of its rooms is sold out, notes Katia Piccolino, the ball of fire who serves as the Ritz's director of sales and marketing. 'We are the hub of anything off the track downtown,' Piccolino trumpets. No doubt. The tea-and-crumpet set vanishes as of Tuesday, June 10 as the lobby and restaurant area is transformed into a party zone for visitors. Festivities officially kick off at the Ritz on Thursday, June 11 with its 'Streets of Monaco' salute, with high-end sports cars dotting the hotel's Sherbrooke St. entrance and crowds converging outside to check out the who's who of celebs checking in. The most heralded Grand Prix party of all, the $1,000 evening bash takes place Friday the 13th with luminaries from the worlds of sport, culture, fashion and finance hobnobbing over caviar and champagne in the hotel ballroom. Cost of the affair is close to $1.6 million, and a percentage of ticket proceeds goes to the Barry F. Lorenzetti Foundation for mental health. So who's coming to the hotel? 'We are the Ritz so we do have to be discreet, but we can say that off the track people will see glimpses of those who may be on the track,' Piccolino somewhat discreetly notes. 'And let's just say that the occupant of the Royal Suite, which I would describe as 'old-school luxury,' is very well known and is from Hollywood. There will also be a lot of celebs and athletes staying here as well.' A previous Royal Suite occupant was Italian cinema icon Sophia Loren, who dazzled her guests and staff by concocting pasta dishes in the room's kitchen. Over the years, the hotel has also hosted Jennifer Aniston, Adam Sandler and Charlize Theron as well as Hamilton's Ferrari teammate Charles Leclerc and late/legendary Brazilian driver Ayrton Senna and Inter Miami superstar Lionel Messi. And gawkers outside the Ritz, particularly during Friday night's ball, can count on catching a flurry of Habs stars, past and present, as well as other NHL and NBA stalwarts, not to mention American fashion model Niki Taylor and possibly cast members like Naomi Watts, Tye Sheridan and Michael Imperioli from the film The Housewife currently shooting in town. 'Toronto has TIFF and we have the Grand Prix, which is the most lucrative week there is in Montreal and we have to rise to the challenge in keeping the vibe going and in innovating it every year,' Piccolino says. Le Mount Stephen account manager Amy Cadiz echoes Piccolino's comments: 'There is no question that Grand Prix week is our most important of the year, but it's our mix of new and old dating back to the times of its founder Lord George Stephen in 1926 that really resonates with our guests. And those fortunate enough to have stayed at the penthouse are so blown away by it. Many have said it's like living in a museum. It is truly one of a kind.' This gargantuan suite features three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two kitchens, a living room, dining room and an office, not to mention a butler at the guests' disposal. It sleeps 6, but frankly it could accommodate not only the F1 drivers but also much of their paddock-team members — and perhaps even their racecar. W Montreal offers a different ambience with a more modernistic touch but also butler — called an 'insider' here — availability. 'We have a kind of unique recipe as far as lifestyle goes — it's part of our brand DNA. We call it 'luxury liberated.' We don't have the formality of a luxury hotel, but we do have the luxury touches,' says Alexandre Tessier, the hotel's director of sales and marketing. 'The Grand Prix has been a kind of mini-Olympics for us. It's been such a huge blessing for hoteliers to have this every year, where demand always surpasses supply. It's our best time of the year by far revenue-wise.' Tessier credits the Netflix F1 series Formula 1: Drive to Survive in enticing more Americans to attend our Grand Prix and to stretch their dollar in the process: 'They don't count their dollars. … The race has been a real game-changer for us.' Though not necessarily geared to the needs of all F1 drivers, Nico Hülkenberg of the Haas team, has previously decamped here as have members of the Red Bull Canada sponsorship team. On the celeb side over the years, it's a different story as the W has welcomed Christina Aguilera, Gwen Stefani, Céline Dion, Snoop Dogg, Ice Cube and Tommy Lee. 'Rihanna almost stayed with us,' points out W's marketing manager, Sarah Le Bars. 'She was set to sleep in one of our EWOW suites, but her team decided not to wake her up after her show — so she ended up spending the night in her tour bus right in front of the hotel. A true missed opportunity … but a great story.' And then there are those Grand Prix regulars to the city who want none of the glitz associated with it. Nor do they seek swank amenities like gyms/swimming pools or restos/bars inside the hotel. What they seek instead is old-school charm that won't necessarily break the bank. And where they can find it is at Le Petit Hôtel on St-Paul St. Provided they were lucky enough to have booked one of this One-Key Michelin hotel's 28 rooms. Alas, they're long gone for this year's race. Situated in a heritage building — one of the oldest in Old Montreal — the hotel, launched in 2009, retains many of its original features, including its exposed stone walls, lancet windows and wrought-iron railings and has meshed them with Quebec-crafted furniture and stylish décor. Rooms, petit but cozy, range in price from $800 to $1,200 during the Grand Prix but prices drop significantly the rest of the year. Only continental breakfasts — featuring St-Viateur bagels — are served. No F1 drivers and only the occasional celeb — like Samuel L. Jackson, Alfre Woodard and Jake Gyllenhaal — seeking some serenity show up here. Far more A-listers turn up at the Petit Hôtel's much larger, more glam sister spot in Old Montreal, the 120-room Hôtel William Gray. 'Quite often, our guests book right after the Grand Prix for the next year's event,' says Georgia Antonopoulos, the vice-president of sales, revenues and marketing for the Gray Collection, owners of the two aforementioned spots. 'We cater to those who want to explore the city and are not looking to have their meals in the hotel. But when you wake up here, you know you're in Montreal.' The Gray Collection group is also the proprietor of the recently opened Le Petit Hôtel Notre-Dame in Old Montreal. Even plus petit than Le Petit Hôtel, this latest features but 17 rooms. 'Montreal is the North American flagship of the Grand Prix and really makes the city a global destination, putting a spotlight on the city and showcasing both the big and small attractions. We can almost forget about the street work — which may never end — during Grand Prix week,' cracks Antonopoulos, glancing over at the closed, construction-laden section of St-Paul St. outside Le Petit Hôtel. Sitting in the tiny lobby area, Philippe Cassidy, a former hotel employee, is totally oblivious to the clamour outside. 'I've worked at and have stayed at many hotels over the years, but, to my mind, Le Petit Hôtel is the best in the world,' Cassidy marvels. 'It is just so distinct.' Petite or princely, distinct does best describe lodging havens in Montreal — as it does just about everything else in this town. This story was originally published June 6, 2025 at 5:00 AM. Bill Brownstein montrealgazette Born and bred in Montreal, Bill Brownstein has been a columnist at the Gazette since 1987, commenting on the city and the splendid array of characters therein. Also a broadcaster, podcaster (Corner Booth), documentarian (Bill Lee: Profile of a Pitcher, Skating on Thin Ice), author (Down the Tube, Montreal 24, Schwartz's Hebrew Delicatessen: The Story).
Winnipeg Free Press
a day ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
Hard time
'Can a man who caused the death of his child ever atone enough to be forgiven?' American author Wally Lamb asks this in his sixth novel, a heart-shattering saga about addiction, trauma, redemption and the healing power of relationships. Heavy themes, but familiar ones for Lamb. He became a household name with his 1992 novel I Know This Much Is True, (made into a limited series by HBO in 2020 and available on Crave) which follows the story of identical twin brothers, one of whom develops paranoid schizophrenia. Shana Sureck photo Wally Lamb's latest was recently selected as the next read for Oprah's Book Club. Lamb is known for his Dickensian-like storytelling — epic, winding stories, sharp criticism of social ills, plentiful references to topical events and deeply relatable characters. The River Is Waiting contains all these elements. The story opens in 2017 in Lamb's favourite setting: the fictional small-town of Three Rivers, Conn., where we meet 35-year-old Corby Ledbetter. Corby thinks he's doing fine. He may have lost his job, but he'll find another one. In the meantime, he's devoting himself to his beloved wife, Emily, and working as a stay-at-home dad to their two-year-old twins. And even though he sneaks booze and sedatives to cope with his growing stress and depression, he knows he can quit when things get better. As Corby says, 'I'm not too worried about my growing reliance on 'better living through chemistry.' It's just a stopgap until my situation turns around.' Corby keeps telling himself this, even after the morning he takes a double dose of Ativan, chases it with Captain Morgan rum — and backs over his toddler son in the driveway, killing him. Sentenced to prison, Corby finds unexpected fellowship with inmates, including an older mentor and a troubled young man desperately looking for a role model. With the help of his new friends, a warm-hearted prison librarian and his mother's unconditional love, Corby begins to hope that he can conquer his demons, forgive himself and come back to his wife and daughter. The River is Waiting Like fellow American author Matthew Quick, best-known for his 2008 novel The Silver Linings Playbook, Lamb excels at creating characters that are lovable even when not likable. Corby is genuinely grief-stricken and remorseful for killing his son. Most of the time, he seems honest and committed to conquering his addiction. By letting Corby tell the story, readers can't help but sympathize with him and, at times, feel his frustration towards his wife when she refuses to visit, or his mother when she offers well-meaning but unhelpful advice. At other times, Corby comes across as self-righteous, such as when he lashes out at his wife for being protective of their remaining child. 'No matter what's going to happen between Emily and me, I'll fight her tooth and nail if she's going to try to screw with my parental rights. I was a good dad before it happened. She knows that. Doesn't that count for anything?' Corby fumes to himself. During his long career as a teacher and novelist, Lamb also taught creative writing to inmates at York Correctional Institute in Connecticut. He draws on his experience to authentically depict the interior of prison life. Guards treat prisoners kindly or cruelly depending on whim, healing programs are limited or inaccessible, personal phone calls are monitored and inmates learn not to speak up for their own protection. As Corby wryly notes, 'The only thing most of the staff is interested in 'correcting' is a new inmate's assumption that he might be something more than a worthless piece of s–t with a felony conviction and inmate number.' Lamb also dives into the racial injustice of the legal system, with Corby noticing the segregation of inmates by race, and how inmates of colour typically receive longer sentences than white inmates, regardless of the nature of their offences. David Kanigan / Silhouette of bird on shore of lake in Cove Island Park in USA. As Corby realizes after speaking with an older Black inmate: 'For the death of my son, they gave me three years. Lester got 50 years because a judge's daughter lost an arm and, I'm guessing, because she was white.' Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. Lamb touches on topical elements from 2017-2023, including Trump followers, economic downturns and the COVID-19 pandemic. Several characters from Lamb's previous novels also make appearances, including psychologist Dr. Patel and nurse Maureen Quirk. Lamb handles the narrative skilfully. While the plot drags at time, this serves to emphasize the monotony of day-to-day life in prison. The River Is Waiting is worth the nine-year wait since Lamb's most recent novel. Kathryne Cardwell is a writer in Treaty One Territory.
Toronto Sun
2 days ago
- Toronto Sun
Stop blaming ‘Jaws' for ruining movies
Published Jun 13, 2025 • 6 minute read Robert Shaw, Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws. SunMediaArchive The impact of 'Jaws' on contemporary cinema has been so thoroughly researched, prosecuted and scientifically proved that it has taken on the contours of catechism: Lo, it came to pass that Steven Spielberg's adaptation of Peter Benchley's best-selling novel about a man-eating great white shark opened in a record number of theatres, became the first film to earn more than $100 million at the box office and thus invented the modern Hollywood blockbuster, transforming and redefining (or – tomato/tomahto – ruining and destroying) American movie culture forever and ever. Amen and pass the popcorn. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. THIS CONTENT IS RESERVED FOR SUBSCRIBERS ONLY Subscribe now to read the latest news in your city and across Canada. Unlimited online access to articles from across Canada with one account. Get exclusive access to the Toronto Sun ePaper, an electronic replica of the print edition that you can share, download and comment on. Enjoy insights and behind-the-scenes analysis from our award-winning journalists. Support local journalists and the next generation of journalists. Daily puzzles including the New York Times Crossword. SUBSCRIBE TO UNLOCK MORE ARTICLES Subscribe now to read the latest news in your city and across Canada. Unlimited online access to articles from across Canada with one account. Get exclusive access to the Toronto Sun ePaper, an electronic replica of the print edition that you can share, download and comment on. Enjoy insights and behind-the-scenes analysis from our award-winning journalists. Support local journalists and the next generation of journalists. Daily puzzles including the New York Times Crossword. REGISTER / SIGN IN TO UNLOCK MORE ARTICLES Create an account or sign in to continue with your reading experience. Access articles from across Canada with one account. Share your thoughts and join the conversation in the comments. Enjoy additional articles per month. Get email updates from your favourite authors. THIS ARTICLE IS FREE TO READ REGISTER TO UNLOCK. Create an account or sign in to continue with your reading experience. Access articles from across Canada with one account Share your thoughts and join the conversation in the comments Enjoy additional articles per month Get email updates from your favourite authors Don't have an account? Create Account It's true that in 1975, when it was released in more than 400 theatres, 'Jaws' became the first motion picture to break the $100 million barrier in gross box office receipts, a record George Lucas's 'Star Wars' would annihilate two years later. Together, Spielberg and Lucas would be credited – and blamed – for ushering in an inflationary era in Hollywood that has continued for 50 years, wherein the budgets and visual effects and escapist fantasies got bigger and the ideas got commensurately smaller. With the craven pursuit of ever jumpier jump scares and wall-to-wall marketing campaigns and the chronic merch-fever and sequel-itis, the conventional wisdom goes: We're living in a world that 'Jaws' made. To which its most ardent lifelong admirers rightly respond: If only. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. Five decades on, it's easy to forget just how remarkably undiluted the pleasures of 'Jaws' were, and how unassailable its craft. Spielberg was 27 when he made it, having grown up a movie-mad kid in Arizona; he dramatized the transformative experience of seeing 'The Greatest Show on Earth' with his parents in his 2022 biographical film, 'The Fabelmans.' Unlike many of his baby-boom peers, he didn't go to a top film school, instead learning on his feet while directing episodes of 'Columbo' and 'Night Gallery.' By the time he directed 'Jaws,' he had made 'Duel' and 'The Sugarland Express,' each a demonstration of Spielberg's savant-like command of visual storytelling at its most primal and emotionally instinctive. Your noon-hour look at what's happening in Toronto and beyond. By signing up you consent to receive the above newsletter from Postmedia Network Inc. Please try again This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. 'Jaws' would prove to be an expression of those qualities at their most impressive and, frankly, disarmingly simple. As a movie, it's an exercise in superb technique in every area: Take one element away, and it doesn't work. 'Jaws' isn't 'Jaws' without John Williams's musical score, its thumping ostinato eerily echoing the sound of two legs kicking underwater. Its sense of immediacy dissipates without the exquisite camerawork of director of photography Bill Butler and his team, who faced the arduous challenge of filming the boat scenes on the open water with handheld equipment, and who ingeniously filmed the swimming scenes at water level, to make audiences feel like they were in danger, too. The shark created by production designer Joe Alves and special effects master Robert Mattey for 'Jaws' – with nary a computer program in sight – was a famous disaster: It kept malfunctioning at crucial moments during a production that went famously over budget and over schedule. So – with the help of editor Verna Fields – Spielberg hid the villain for as long as possible, bringing it into view in short, terrifying bursts: The first, full-on shot of the fish, while Roy Scheider obliviously chums in the foreground, was an instant classic, thanks to Fields's quick cut to his stunned reaction. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. Even the screenwriting in 'Jaws' reflects Hollywood's art-by-committee at its best: While the script is credited to Benchley and Carl Gottlieb, its most memorable monologue, boat captain Quint's mesmerizing recollection of the real-life USS Indianapolis disaster during World War II, was a constantly rewritten product of Gottlieb, screenwriters Howard Sackler and John Milius, and the actor himself. (Also true to sacred Hollywood tradition, the authorship of the speech has been the subject of decades-long mythology and debate.) Quint, of course, was played by Robert Shaw in a performance that became instantly indelible. Along with Richard Dreyfuss's motormouthed scientist and Scheider's mild-mannered, bespectacled police chief, Quint was the most important element of 'Jaws,' which was a monster movie, sure, but was just as thoroughly satisfying as a character-driven drama. Shaw, Dreyfuss and Scheider were three of a handful of professional actors who appeared in the film; many of the supporting roles and all of the background performers were cast with locals from Martha's Vineyard, where 'Jaws' was filmed, lending it that much more analog realism. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. In 1975, people didn't just flock to theatres to see 'Jaws' – they flocked and re-flocked, partly to chase the endorphin rush but also because they loved those guys. 'Jaws' might have initiated a whole new era of blockbusters, but at its best, it was also an excellent hangout movie. And it exemplified filmgoing as a supremely collective experience, where one's fellow spectators provide as much pleasure as what's up on screen. In Laurent Bouzereau's upcoming documentary for National Geographic, 'Jaws The Definitive Inside Story,' the director Guillermo del Toro giddily recalls his first experience seeing the film, observing how 'the whole theatre reacted like a musical instrument.' It's now taken as gospel that 'Jaws' was the first blockbuster, but that's not entirely true. In his wise and witty 2004 book, 'Blockbuster: How Hollywood Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Summer,' the film writer Tom Shone smartly deconstructs the myths that have attached to Spielberg and Lucas, and their respective roles in creating blockbuster culture, pointing out that we've had blockbusters for as long as pictures have moved. The difference was that, in the era of 'Gone With the Wind' and, later, 'The Sound of Music,' it was the audience who conferred blockbuster status on a film, by going to see it in huge numbers. It only became a preexisting identifier in the 1970s when, as Shone wrote, the term became 'the name a movie calls itself, before it is even out of the gate.' This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. During the 1960s, Hollywood was put on its back foot by its own hidebound tastes, having missed the cultural signals of the decade and stubbornly sticking to stale formulas. By the time 'Jaws' came out, the industry was on the upswing again thanks to hits like 'Love Story,' 'The Godfather' and 'Airport' – wildly different movies that could fairly be called blockbusters in their own right. If 'Jaws' was heir to anything, it was 'The Exorcist,' another bestseller adaptation, which became a literal monster hit in 1973. In other words, while it was adroitly conceived and exceptionally well made, 'Jaws' wasn't an outlier but a continuation of a post-1960s, post-Watergate trend in which filmmaking returned to reassuringly familiar genres that lured filmgoers back into theatres. It's a trend that never really faded and, in the hands of practitioners like Ridley Scott, Kathryn Bigelow, Denis Villeneuve and Ryan Coogler, has resulted in some thrilling advances in visual language. What is Sean Baker's 'Anora' if not another hooker-as-Cinderella fantasy, given harder edges and a club-drug buzz? This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. There's no doubt that movies have gotten progressively less sophisticated since 'Jaws,' and Spielberg's own 'childlike wonder' era arguably gave an entire generation of adults new warrant to demand less moral complexity from their screen narratives. Paradoxically, those nuances found a welcoming home on the very medium Spielberg fled to direct features: television. Meanwhile, 'Star Wars,' closely followed by 'Superman' in 1978, sealed the fate of modern mainstream filmmaking, which has been on a single-minded mission to squeeze every comic book, TV show and whiff of culture nostalgia until it's an empty husk of callbacks, CGI Easter eggs and guilty pleasure needle drops. The trajectory has been a terrible one. But please, don't blame 'Jaws' by confusing its simplicity with being simplistic. When filmgoers are bemoaning the current state of too-big, too-empty, too-sequelized movies, and diagnosing where the metastasis began, they would do well to remember that 'Jaws' isn't patient zero but the antidote. 'Jaws' is undoubtedly a vehicle for spectacle and sensation. But underneath its roiling surface lurks an efficient, flawlessly constructed mechanism of entertainment at its purest. Spectacle and sensation will always drive Hollywood – it's the ballyhoo that gets us through the door. But in the escalating arms race of shocks and synthetic dazzlement, 'Jaws' still keeps us coming back, reminding us that the fundamentals – character, visceral storytelling, authenticity and humanism – will always be the greatest show on Earth. World Toronto Maple Leafs Canada Toronto & GTA Celebrity
