My ‘Jaws’ Movie Prequel Script

We all know it goes without saying that Jaws is among the greatest movies ever committed to celluloid. It should never be remade. However nothing is sacred today and so, if it is remade, I’d like to throw my concept in the ring.                    1187215_10200564375653581_1729544547_n

This isn’t an entire script. It details some of the back story on both Quint and Chief Brody that  the beginning of the main story we all know and love…






By Chris Gay

Film opens on the USS Indianapolis on the water, with the sun setting around it.

Mess Hall, USS Indianapolis

July 30, 1945

Sam Quint & Herbie Robinson are sitting at a table across from each other. There are empty plates in front of them and they’re both drinking coffee.


“You think this’ll be the end of it then, Sam?”


“Can’t really tell. Bastards are dug in, an’ looks like they’re willin’ to fight to the last man. Why? You got somewhere better to be?”


“Signed a contract with the Indians. If the war ends by next spring they’re gonna give me a tryout.”


“Big Leagues, eh? Didn’t know I was sailin’ with a bona fide star.”

Robinson modestly rolls his eyes, but smiles.


“Not likely, my friend. (Finishes his coffee in one last swig and puts the cup down.) Can’t make The Show from the middle of the ocean.”


“Don’t you be worrying about that, Herbie. What we’ve delivered’ll end this war. You see if it don’t.”


“You sound confident we’ll get it there. Must be that new tattoo.” (Says with a smile.)


(Throwing a cursory glance down at his fresh USS Indianapolis tattoo) “Well I don’t know about that, Mr. Robinson. Tattoos don’t win wars, but a weapon like this one sure as hell does… (Pauses for a moment, and then continues more positively.) Anyway, cheer up. Come next spring you’ll be trading your guns for gloves and fightin’ for the AL Pennant. Beats the hell outta this.”


(Smiling) “Hopefully. What’ll you be doing?”


“Back home to New England; gonna be a carpenter. I got a feelin’ there’s gonna be a lot of work building houses in the comin’ years.”


“Carpenter, huh? That’ll be the day. Thought you were a fisherman?”


“Whatever pays the bills, Herbie. Whatever pays th-” (Suddenly, an explosion rocks the boat and both are thrown from their chairs to the ground.)


What the hell was…”


 “Torpedo! Let’s get topside! C’mon, now!”

The two head for the exit with water starting to pour in from one side. Other sailors in the mess hall are scrambling around to get out, too. One has fallen; Quint and Robinson stop, pick him up, & together they carry him out of the mess hall.

They’re moving up the stairs as the ship starts to list. The sailor they were carrying is okay to walk. The three of them move through a growing shower of seawater.


“Faster, men! We gotta get up an’ outta here if we don’t wanna end up on the bottom with her!”

Other Sailor:

(Shouting above the noise) “How much time?!”


“Vessel’s got ten minutes. Fifteen at most!” (They reach the deck, with men already there putting a few lifeboats into the water. Others were flinging as many life jackets overboard as they could.)


“Let’s get to the-“


(Interrupting) “No time! Get in that goddamn water and swim as far from the boat as you can!”


“What?! Why?!”

Other sailor:

“Suction!” (Quint looks from the sailor to Herbie, and nods silently in agreement. The ship is listing badly now.)


“It’s time, my friend. Go, go! (Robinson joins him at the rail and together they jump into the water and swim away.)

After getting about a hundred yards out they stop, turn around, and watch the vessel founder. They look at each other in the oily water, and then swim back toward a couple of floating life jackets. They put them on and join a few others treading water nearby.


“Quint? That you?”


“Yeah. Me an’ Herbie.”


“You two stay with us. We’ve gotta band together; keep close! When those damn sharks start circling, we’re gonna be better off in a group.


“We’re sitting ducks out here, Smitty.”


(Spitting out oily seawater) “We shouldn’t be long in the water. Theyd’ve radioed our position before the Indy foundered.”


“Nah, Robinson. Clandestine mission. No one knows we’re here. We could floating out here for days.” (Reality sinks in for Herbie.)

In the distance they hear a scream. They look up and see a solitary sailor a hundred yards away being eaten by a shark. Quint starts to swim toward the sailor, & Smitty grabs him by the back of the life jacket.


“Get offa me, ya bastard!”


(Pulling him around so they’re face to face.) “Sam, listen! (Quint squirms to break free, Smitty’s grip holds.) Listen to me, damn it! He’s gone, all you’d do over there is get yourself killed. We gotta keep our wits about us now. We gotta stay together!”


“Jesus H. Christ!”


“We’re gonna need him.” (Smitty’s words are audible only to himself.)

Scene fades out. When it fades back in it’s daytime. Quint and Smitty are sleeping while being kept afloat by their life jackets. Quint wakes up.




“I’m here, Sam. I’m up.”


“How long we been out here?”


“‘Bout four days now, at least.”


“Sounds right. Damn it, I’m starving. (Quint looks over to Robinson, who’s twenty yards away) Herbie…Herbie wake up, man. (Quint swims the short distance over to Robinson. He’s still apparently asleep. Quint pushes him on the shoulder to wake him, and Herbie’s torso bobs over and he floats face-first in the water) Jesus H. Christ! Herbie! Herbie!”


“Sam! (Quint turns and looks back,) He’s gone, man. He’s gone…Come back to the group. It’s safer.”

Quint remains for a moment; a look of fury on his face. Then he reluctantly swims back to the others. As he does, Smitty turns his head to a noise in the distance. Quint, along with the camera, follows his eyes to a ship in the distance getting closer to their position.


“Is it a…”



As the ship gets closer, Quint looks back on Robinson.  


(Puts his hand on Quint’s shoulder.) “That plane musta saw us! We made it, Sam. We made it!’


(Still staring at their rescue ship.)“Yeah. We did…”

 Scene fades to black

New York City, April, 1973

A foot chase is in progress. NYPD Officer Martin Brody is pursuing a suspect, whom he corners in an alley.

 Martin Brody:


(Corned, the hoodlum Brody was chasing slowly turns around. He suddenly pulls his hand out of his sweatshirt pocket and fires a round at Brody, He barely misses him, and the bullet removes a good-sized chunk of the brick from the wall behind him. Brody returns fire, and connects with the hoodlum’s shoulder. He then moves in to make the arrest.) 

“Jesus man, that fuckin’ hurts!”


(Slapping handcuffs on him) “It’ll hurt a helluva lot more if you don’t shut the hell up.” (Sirens wail in the background. As Brody drags the suspect to his feet, he’s approached by another uniformed officer.)


(To arriving officer) “Book this asshole. Took a goddamn shot at me.”

(Brody nods his head to the wall and the officer looks over at it.)


 “Jesus…Want to ride back with him?” (The implication is that Brody would have a chance to exact some revenge on the drive back to the Precinct.)


“No, I’ll walk it.”


“Whatever you say, Marty. (Speaking to the suspect as he lifts him up by the shoulder.) All right, asshole. Let’s go.” (The arriving officer takes the suspect to the squad car and roughly shoves him in. Brody watches the car until it’s out of sight. Then he backs up to the brick wall and stares silently at the damage inflicted upon it by the bullet that was meant for him. After a moment he lets out a sigh, then slowly slides down till he’s in a crouch, then stares blankly across the alleyway the way Quint stared at the approaching rescue ship. Scene fades out.)

Amity Island, Massachusetts. September, 1973

Amity Mayor Larry Vaughn:

(Reading a piece of paper in front of him, and then looking up) “This is a very impressive resume, Martin. It’s even better than what you told me over the phone. I have to ask; are you sure you’d want to trade the excitement of New York City in for the monotony of Amity Island? While it’s still police work, it’s a totally different world. There hasn’t been a singe killing in over 25 years. “


“I’ve talked it over with my wife, Mr. Vaughn. The fresh start for our family in a much safer place is the best move for us. The promotion and raise don’t hurt too much, either.” (Brody smiles.)


All right, then. Oh, and it’s just Larry, by the way. Listen, you’re the most qualified candidate we’ve had in here so far. I’ll need to get a rubber stamp from the selectmen, but that’s just a formality. Can you start October 1st?”


“I’m good with that, Larry.”


“Right. Go find yourself some temporary lodging. Should be no problem in September. I’ll call you in a week, Martin.”


“Good enough. Thanks the offer; I look forward to the job.” (Brody stands up and the two shake hands. Scene fades out.)

June 1975

A group of twenty-somethings are sitting around a campfire on the beach. One of the men is drinking, and eyeing an attractive brunette. She’s returning his gaze.


(Following her while stumbling) “Wait! Wait for me!”

This brings the script up to where the original movie begins.

God. The Devil. The Bet. The Fate of Mankind in the Balance. Check out Chris Gay’s new theological, paranormal crime thriller, Ghost of a Chance.

Jpeg front cover with bleeds

What if a late 20th Century Jack the Ripper tearing apart a small Connecticut town was the result of a pancake shop bet between God and the devil? Imagine if Satan’s impact on the world in the new millennium hinged entirely on one police officer’s skill in hunting down a ruthless killer…hiding in plain sight. Detective Danny Seabrook is an unwitting pawn in a divine chess match with immeasurable consequences for all mankind. Set primarily in 1995, this action-packed suspense thriller features clever dialogue, humor and romance-with an ending you will never forget.

*     *     *     *

‘Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal’ by Chris Gay


As the end draws near for long-retired Sherlock Holmes in Sussex Downs, he calls one last time for the company of his best friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson. What was meant to be four last days of camaraderie and reminiscing instead leads to the most shocking, explosive revelation both of the great detective’s career, and his life.

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal is a Holmes tale like none other ever conceived. Fans of Baker Street’s legendary detective will be left with the insatiable need to contemplate its extraordinary conclusion forevermore.


*     *     *     *

Chris Gay is an author, freelance writer, voice-over artist, broadcaster and actor. For 7 years he wrote and broadcast a daily, minute radio humor spot in Hartford, Connecticut. He’s been published nationally in Writer’s Digest and has written the paranormal, theological thriller novel Ghost of a Chance, Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal, (an original, extraordinary short story on the great detective with a spectacular twist) and four humor books: And That’s the Way It Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings, Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota, and The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm & Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota. He’s written and voiced radio commercials, authored both comedic and non-comedic freelance articles, scripts, press releases, website, media and technical content, done occasional radio color commentary for local sports, and acted in a couple of movies and plays. His website is, and his humor blog can be found at

Author Page (on Facebook)

Chris Gay Author/Writer/ Humorist (on Facebook)

Ghost of a Chance (on Facebook)

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal (on Facebook)

The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm (on Facebook)

And That’s the Way it Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings (on Facebook)

Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota (on Facebook)

Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota (on Facebook)


2012: Hope Springs (Barfly)

2009: Testimonies of a Quiet New England Town (Constable John Gilbert)


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