**2. The White Shark in the Media: A Shark Is a Shark Is a** *Jaws* **Shark**

Of the small number of shark species involved in human–wildlife conflict, white sharks are the subject of the most trepidation and fascination and serve as template for sharks in popular culture. A *Washington Post* article points to the species' reputation as "media stars" and "silent assassins" and credits the feature release *Jaws* (Spielberg 1975) for their rescue from obscurity (Dunkel 2015). The film's commercial success and wide reach (Lundén 2012), which set the standard for white sharks as "rogue" nonhuman animals through the spectacle of fatal encounters (Francis 2012, pp. 47, 56), has also enabled monetization of their image by way of an ever-burgeoning repertory. A 2013 ABC News Nightline report aired in the U.S. counted no less than 50 films starring sharks as movie villains (Donovan and Morris 2013), a tally that a report three years later hiked to over 70 films (Brown 2016). Analysis of 109 shark movies on the Internet Movie Database (IMDb) also uncovered that, similar to news coverage, 96 percent of films featured sharks in pursuit of human prey that ended in death (Le Busque and Litchfield 2021). Speaking of the genre's commercial viability, senior box office analyst at Exhibitor Relations Jeff Bock noted that, because of their "primal pull" on audiences, these features are for the most part "inexpensive ... [to produce, and] provide fantastic bang for your buck ... " Comescore senior media analyst Paul Dergarabedian, for his part, echoed similar thoughts in describing the shark genre as "review-proof" and "one of the most resilient ... in all of film" (Katz 2019).

On TV, Discovery's Shark Week, marketed as "the prime showcase for all things shark" (Duhaime-Ross [2013] 2014), has carried the *Jaws* mantle since 1987 through documentaries, blood-in-the-water accounts, feature films, and celebrity-centered specials. While deemed to promote shark scientist exposure, the annual summer media event has also received its share of criticism for exaggerating the fear factor, twisting scientific research, and furthering false narratives about nonexistent marine creatures (Shiffman 2018; Wallace 2019).

Network executives and producers nonetheless continue to promote shark programming for contributing to the species' popularity and aiding conservation efforts (Stockton 2016). Jeff Kurr, director of the *Air Jaws* and *Great White Serial Killer* franchises noted in an interview that Shark Week programming has helped "make people aware that sharks ... have a lot of challenges" and that catching them is no longer acceptable (Cavanaugh 2020). Because these programs are meant to be partly educational, Shark Week content is usually plugged in the media by way of its scientific value. Executive VP of digital media Scott Lewers observed in a separate interview that "It's science first but mixed with entertainment" for audience engagement (Shiffman 2018). Kurr, for his part, has promoted his *Great White Serial Killer* franchise as based on "a lot of great information and a lot of great science ... " and cited a study by Martin et al. (2009) on white shark hunting methods as inspiration (Cavanaugh 2020).

Early research on science in TV documentaries established that it is the result of two sets of parameters: fantasy and dramatization, on the one hand, and factual information and argument, on the other (Silverstone 1984, pp. 387–88). Rather than scientific veracity, however, producers of Hollywood entertainment aim to generate verisimilar images that conjure up scientific credibility while also invoking ambiguity and polysemic interpretations of "reality" (Frank 2003, pp. 428, 429, 447). Moreover, over the past 15 years, Discovery Network's factual entertainment has witnessed a gradual distancing from scientifically verifiable claims through the proliferation of techniques and forms of argumentation that have produced pseudoscience rather than science (Campbell 2016).

Shark Week programs have been flagged for their dependence on narrow and overdramatic *Jaws* representations, which cuts across documentary formats that subsume purportedly educational content (Lerberg 2016, p. 35). In an earlier interview, Kurr pointed to his *Great White Serial Killer* series as chronicling "the most intriguing shark attack story since *Jaws.* But unlike *Jaws*, this story is 100 percent true. It's about a series of mysterious great white attacks that we solve using the latest shark science" (Aitzen 2017).

Needless to say, detailing events by way of *Jaws* iconography, with its innate commodification of fear, is about "not knowing" sharks as much as arguably knowing anything about them for the way this imagery is clamped on incidents in an anthropocentric and culturally-dominant fashion (Fishman 1980). While metaphors are typically deployed to help audiences relate to science, to the extent that they are liable to be seen as factual, they are also incorrect (Kueffer and Larson 2014, pp. 720, 722). In addition, the *Jaws* formula renders sharks unilaterally responsible for human–wildlife conflict by way of three elements: the shark's intentionality behind the events, the shark's return to willfully strike again, and the shark's forcing of the human hand to "deal" with the situation by giving pursuit and entrapping (if not killing) him or her (Neff 2015, pp. 114, 123; Pepin-Neff and Wynter 2018b, p. 1). Rather than deploying specific language to describe the nature of the

encounter (Pepin-Neff 2014) and examining variables such as visibility or anthropogenic causes, the *Jaws* analogy also enables conflation of all interactions under the term "attack", while prior to 1930 these incidents where designated as "shark accidents" (Pepin-Neff in Kraterou 2021).

*Jaws* iconography can also function as a "script" as it updates encounters through stereotypical usage and circumvents contestation when deployed as a passing mention across media formats (Van Dijk 1981, 1988). Moreover, recalling and stacking incidents by way of *Jaws* imagery generates a retroactive form of "shark frenzy" (Gibbs 2020, pp. 14–17) that assaults the public with fear and misinformation and is highly prescriptive in the way humans should interpret diverse shark experiences.

Because media are hard-pressed to speak of shark species in ways other than antagonistic *Jaws*-type discourses, this kind of pseudoscientific TV content poses a real risk to sharks for its potential persuasiveness when coupled with particular entertainment techniques and the objectivity-based claims common in documentary (Campbell 2016, p. 21). Due to science's high standing in film and TV programming, and efforts to overemphasize the scientific status of claims for the purpose of credibility, it is therefore necessary to examine this content for its potential impact on shark wellbeing, the species' rights to their habitats, and ongoing population recovery.

Campbell lists a number of criteria about pseudoscientific programs in factual enertainment that center on depictions of cryptids (Loch Ness, Bigfoot), ghost hauntings, and extraterrestrial visitors, which are useful when considering *Jaws* shark programming:


Given that Discovery Network produces factual entertainment with pseudoscientific subjects across its many platforms, and this content is scheduled adjacent to programs which explicitly cross the line into the contrived (Campbell 2016, pp. 21, 185–86), it is of little surprise that the above formula has found its way into shark-themed shows that incorporate the *Jaws* script. Indeed, to draw in larger audiences, producers have opted to blend pseudoscientific topics like ghost hauntings with shark themes, as seen, for example, in *Shark* vs. *GoPro* (Rober 2021). This analysis will show that, despite the science hype, argumentation and entertainment techniques in *Great White Serial Killer Lives* closely track with the above criteria for pseudoscientific content, which exacerbate shark–human conflict, and disregard repeated calls to shift the negative reputation of the species for its impacts on public support for conservation.

#### **3. Materials and Methods**

*Great White Serial Killer Lives* is the fourth in a five-installment series that features shark encounters off the waters of Surf Beach, California between 2008 and 2016. The fourth installment is the subject of analysis because it solves the mystery behind the encounters. Likely because of its climactic nature, Discovery marked the program's prominence by way of an enviable primetime slot at the outset of Shark Week 2017. Sister network Animal Planet also re-aired it on 11 January 2020, attesting to its long shelf life as a standalone program.

To distinguish the elements outlined in the above criteria, the author performed a transcription of the entire program and conducted a textual analysis of plot structure, narration, as well as verbal and audiovisual elements, to provide an in-depth look at how producers, writers, editors, and cast members put forward messages about the existence of a *Jaws* shark. No scientific instrument was used for analysis. The investigation of narrative forms like documentary is known for its "lack of a universal method of analysis", which requires operationalization of the methodology by way of the "cognitive purpose"—i.e., by defining the scope and aim of the research—within a distinct set of guidelines (Mikos 2014, p. 420; Mikos et al. 2008, pp. 82–95). Inquiry was also grounded in Critical Animal Media Studies (CAMS), which lies at the intersection of media and cultural studies, and utilizes both textual and content analysis to gauge how media representation of nonhuman animals such as sharks, who are tarnished by *Jaws* aspersions (Francis 2012; Le Busque et al. 2021a; Le Busque and Litchfield 2021; Aich 2021), affects their lived experience (Merskin 2015, p. 12).

Results provide an overview of plot structure divided by segments and sub-segments. Because viewing occurred without the advantage of ad insertion, story segmentation was assessed through breaks inserted in the editing process by producers and/or signaled via a change in location, characters, or subject matter. Shark visuals—coded as medium shots (MS), medium close-ups (MCU), close-ups (CU) and extreme close-ups (ECU)—were catalogued by assessing images of whole sharks and body parts like dorsal and eyes. Use of sound was described by tone and instrument wherever possible and gauged for how it may further a particular emotional response. Audiovisual elements were examined together since viewers encounter these cues jointly. They also contain pointers that guide audiences to feel in particular ways and take certain actions (Mikos 2014, p. 411), in this case, to fear sharks. Audiovisual elements, however, can also function to close down meaning and limit how the audience interprets information (D'Amico 2013, p. iv). Therefore, shark images in the program were also examined for purported "aggressive" poses; i.e., sharks with an open (and bloodied) mouth or nose, lunging at bait in- or off-frame, and vertically going up the water column reminiscent of the 1975 Spielberg movie.

Discussion was structured through the principal cast of characters, which followed the formula of a two-person investigative unit plus a skeptic. The first two are entertainment figures with established media relationships that help publicize their brand (Metz 2008, p. 343), while the third is a renowned white shark scientist. Since character objectives in storytelling are arranged through oppositions that maximize narrative tension (Dancyger and Rush 2007, pp. 63, 191), analysis focused first on the investigative team's arguments and how they built purported evidence for a *Jaws* shark. The input of the shark scientist, as he attempted to clarify pseudoscientific claims by means of established science, was examined last.

#### **4. Results**

#### *4.1. Plot Structure*

In *Great White Serial Killer Lives*, Brandon McMillan and Ralph Collier continue their search to unveil the mystery behind a series of strikes that recur every two years off the waters of Surf Beach, California. McMillan, introduced as a surfer, animal trainer, and TV personality, conducts witness interviews, while partner and "shark attack researcher" Collier is charged with collecting shark tooth fragments destined for a DNA database that will identify individuals behind the strikes in question. White shark biologist Michael Domaier, cast in the role of skeptic, must shed light on the argument that a supposed *Jaws* shark is haunting the area.

A bird's eye view of the plot reveals an introduction, seven segments, and twenty-two sub-segments. Except for the first segment, which features the most recent encounter, the remaining six segments briefly recapitulate the Surf Beach shark–human encounters between 2008 and 2014 in preceding installments. The case-stacking strategy mirrors the "shark frenzy", as it intersects with the crime and mystery format, to rehearse the idea of the white shark's criminality. The "whodunnit" scheme justifies the use of forensic science methodologies, such as evidence-collection and DNA analysis, to land the culprit. It also provides the main thrust of the drama (Campbell 2016, p. 57).

Since the introduction is designed to readily capture viewer attention, the male voiceof-god Narrator presents the events as a series of "brutal" incidents that have left the community reeling and wondering why they are occurring. He underscores that the twoperson investigative unit has put together a decade-long file of evidence and, by virtue of producers' time investment, attests to the thoroughness of the probe. Viewers are left to trust in the order of developments as *the* true account behind the incidents despite the fact that many plotlines can be fashioned from the same events and that the key to understanding a story's meaning is in tracking how it unfolds (Ellefson and Kingsepp 2004, p. 204).

The introduction also sets the tone for priming the sensationalist *Jaws* angle through 15 shots of white sharks chiefly in medium close-ups (MCUs) and 13 or 86.6 percent captured in purported aggressive displays: with open jaws or lunging. Visuals also include blood–in-the-water effects and beach warning signs accompanied by ominous sound motifs. This segment is meant to hook viewers by simulating the visceral experience of being on the receiving end of a white shark bite. It also short-circuits critical analysis since it is practically impossible to give into instinctual triggers and logically dissect the audiovisual imagery (Biancorosso 2010, p. 321).

Segment 1 chronicles a 1 September 2016 bite on a spear fisher in the waters off Devil's Jaw—Point Argüello—about 8 miles north of Surf Beach. The encounter is featured upfront because, fortuitously for the producers, the young man in question had mounted a GoPro camera on his spear gun and taped part of the proceedings. However, since the clips are not up to the visually dramatic standards of this kind of programming, reenactments of the shark closing in on the youth and grabbing his foot follow in short order. The visuals and narration, as in *Jaws*, are accompanied by sound effects of a frenzied drum that mimics the human heartbeat to evoke stress before a shark incident (Biancorosso 2010). Reenacted audio of an emergency call in a frantic woman's voice also amplifies the tension. The encounter is dubbed as "the latest", consonant with the story of a criminal *Jaws*-like shark at large.

The twenty-two sub-segments that follow launch new leads into the investigation. Apart from the introduction and segments 2–7, Collier is seen in 13 sub-segments and McMillan in 15. They appear together in two segments and three sub-segments to convey that they are on the same page. Domaier is featured in eight sub-segments—1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 20, and 22—while physically segregated from the other two on a boat off the area's coastal waters to denote his third-party role (Table 1).
