Novelist Scott Sigler's horror column appears every Thursday.

Sharks = Horror. It's a simple formula. You don't even need a cheat sheet. When that formula hit in 1975, multiplied by the square root of Steven Spielberg's directing against the coefficient of Peter Benchley's novel, with Roy Scheider to the tenth power and ... okay, my math analogy is breaking down. Let's go back to the basics:

Sharks = Horror.

So what the heck happened to this franchise? When Jaws hit the theaters in 1975, it scared the collective living crap out of an entire country. The movie defined a new genre, set a new standard for cinematic terror, and even introduced the concept that, yes, two notes from a tuba could make your stomach clench. The movie made people afraid to swim, even in areas that don't have sharks. You know, places like lakes, ponds and bathtubs.

Jaws 2
With that kind of success for Jaws, you knew a sequel was on the way. Roy Scheider was back to reprise the lead role of Chief Martin Brody, (a.k.a, The Man to Whom No One Would Listen). Carl Gottlieb, who wrote the originals screenplay based on the Benchley novel, was back to pen the sequel. However, a key piece was missing from this magic formula -- Spielberg. Who replaced him? Jeannot Szwarc? Too bad this plot doesn't deviate far from the first. Yes, that's right, it involves a giant shark off Amity. Now, if I'm Brody, and I live through that first flick, I'm loading up the car and moving to Death Valley. No swimming pools -- no water at all, for that matter. Does Brody follow this eminently logical course of action? Nope. He keeps on keepin' on in Amity. Not only does he stay, he lets his sons kick it in the ocean among scantily clad bikini babes (good) and, well, and killer sharks (not good). Truth be told, the whole Brody clan deserved to be eaten here to improve the gene pool.

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