(We now resume normal programming.)
In the
tumultuous Seventies, Americans needed to watch something scary to take their
minds off their woes. The decade was ushered in with terrible images of young
American soldiers dying. Combat footage
became a staple of the evening news.
Families such as mine that had once gathered in the glow of the tiny box
with our compartmentalized tee-vee dinners were now eating at the table in
uncomfortable silence. And the news would not improve. The decade would be
punctuated with a presidential resignation, record inflation and unemployment,
gas lines, the Iranian Hostage Crisis, and the Jonestown Massacre.
The Big Three;
ABC, CBS, and NBC would take advantage of the nation’s growing desensitization
by delving in the horror genre. Weekly
series such as Circle of Fear hosted
by Sebastian Cabot (Family Affair’s
Mister French) would try and fail to gain a secure toehold in the Neilson
Ratings. Even Frankenstein’s Monster and Count Dracula would receive network
make-over’s. Frankenstein: The True Story would be shown in a two-part, made for
television event based much more closely on the Shelley novella than was the
iconic Karloff piece. A swarthy Jack Palance would actually succeed in
frightening me more than the pale, diminutive Lugosi as Dracula.
It was around
this time that a monster was introduced that scared an entire nation. And it wasn’t even a “real” monster. Not since Psycho had there been widespread
hydrophobia (the fear of water definition…not rabies). Jaws
made everybody afraid to go into the water.
For those of an age to remember its theatrical release, I imagine there
are still fleeting moments—or perhaps a sense of lingering dread—when you are
in water and your feet can no longer touch the bottom. For many, the opening scene of the lone
swimmer emerges from the depths of the subconscious complete with signature
theme music.
“Duh—dunt..duh—dunt...dunt
dunt dunt dunt...”.
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