The answer, up top
For the shark in the film, you need about 59 feet of boat. The Orca was 42. Chief Brody was right, and he was right by about seventeen feet, which he worked out in roughly four seconds by looking at the animal over the transom. This page takes longer and gets to the same place.
The number is not a guess. A great white's weight can be predicted from its length using a relationship published by the National Marine Fisheries Service, and a hull's weight can be predicted from its length using the ratio boatbuilders have used for a century. Both halves are real. What joins them is a rule we made up, and we will show you exactly where we made it up.
Step one: what a shark that size actually weighs
In 1995 three NOAA researchers published length and weight data for thirteen shark species caught in the western North Atlantic. For white sharks they had 125 animals, and the fit is very good indeed:
W is mass in kilograms and FL is fork length in centimetres, which is measured from the snout to the fork of the tail rather than to the very tip. Since nobody describes a shark that way in conversation, the same paper supplies the conversion, fitted to 112 sharks: FL = 0.9442 × TL − 5.7441. Feed it a total length and it hands back the fork length the weight equation wants.
One detail is worth more than it looks. Push the largest fork length in the study, 493 cm, back through the weight equation and it returns 1,536 kg, against a heaviest recorded specimen of 1,554 kg. The equation reproduces its own sample to within about 1.2 percent. That is the kind of internal check that tells you a formula is describing something real rather than curve-fitting noise.
So how heavy is a 25 foot shark?
Hooper calls it at twenty feet. Quint corrects him: twenty five, and three tons of him. Two numbers, shouted across a deck, at a fish. Let us find out what that shark would really weigh.
Twenty five feet of total length is 762 cm, which converts to 714 cm of fork length, which the equation turns into about 4,800 kg. That is 10,600 pounds, or 5.3 short tons. Which is the delightful bit: the equation says that shark was even bigger than the legend. Quint eyeballed a moving animal from a rolling boat and called it within a couple of tons, which is a good day's work for anybody, and the real number only makes his fish more impressive.
Now let us be equally honest about our own figure. The equation was fitted to sharks up to 493 cm of fork length, and a 25 foot shark is about 45 percent past the biggest animal in the sample. That is extrapolation. The page says so on every result that goes beyond the fit, and no amount of decimal places changes it. It is the best answer available and it is still a projection, so hold it the way you would hold any number that has been asked to reach past its own data.
Step two: what makes a boat big enough
Not its length. Length is the number written on the side of the boat and it is nearly useless on its own, because a 42 foot wooden lobster boat and a 42 foot racing sailboat differ in weight by a factor of four. What matters is displacement: how much water the hull pushes aside, which is the same thing as how much the boat weighs.
The standard way to get from one to the other is the displacement to length ratio:
An ultralight racing hull sits near 90. A cruising boat runs 200 to 300. A heavy workboat or trawler is 300 to 400, and a tug or a deep sea dragger goes past 400. The Orca, a Cape Island lobster hull planked in wood, belongs firmly in the workboat band, which is why this page puts it at 320 and gets a displacement of about 17 long tons for a 42 footer. That is roughly 39,000 pounds of boat, which is about right for the type.
Step three: the rule we invented, and why
Here is where the honest part ends and the joke begins, so we are going to flag it clearly. There is no published standard for how big a boat has to be for a shark. Naval architecture has never needed to answer that question. So we made one up, and then we did the one thing that makes a made-up rule defensible: we calibrated it against the only full-scale trial that exists.
The Orca displaced about 17 long tons. Quint's shark masses about 4.7 long tons. That is 27 percent of the entire boat, on a rope, off the stern, actively trying to leave. The Orca sank. That is one data point, it is fictional, and it is all anybody has.
So this page sets the limit at ten percent: the shark should mass no more than a tenth of what the boat displaces. Against the one recorded failure that is a safety factor of about 2.7, which is a normal sort of margin for something you would rather not repeat. Ten percent is our number. It is not a standard, it is not an industry figure, and if you quote it at a naval architect they will ask you what you have been reading.
Why the ratio comes out near 2.3 to 1 every time
Run the numbers for a twelve foot shark and you need about 27 feet of boat. Run them for the film's shark and you need about 59. The ratio barely moves, and there is a reason that is not a coincidence.
A shark's mass grows with roughly the cube of its length, since the exponent in the weight equation is 3.08. A hull's displacement grows with exactly the cube of its length, because that is what the displacement to length ratio says. Two cubes divided by each other give something very close to a constant, so the answer lands near 2.3 feet of boat per foot of shark across the whole range. The interesting part is not the ratio. It is that the boat you need scales with the animal's weight, and weight is the thing people are worst at estimating by eye.
What a real great white actually is
Adult males average 11 to 13 feet. Adult females, which are the larger sex, average 15 to 16. The largest white shark anyone has reliably measured was 6.1 metres, or 20 feet, a female taken off Prince Edward Island and verified by the Canadian Shark Research Centre. J. E. Randall, applying a stricter standard to the records, put the largest defensible measurement at 19.5 feet.
Sharks estimated at 23 feet exist in the literature, the specimens known as KANGA and MALTA, and both shrank when their measurements were re-examined. Which puts the film in perspective. The shark in Jaws is not a large great white. It is five feet longer than any great white that has ever been measured, and about four times the mass of the heaviest one ever weighed on a rod and reel.
That is the real reason the Orca was doomed, and it has nothing to do with Quint's seamanship. He was not undergunned for a big shark. He was undergunned for an animal that does not exist.
How honest is the weight figure
Reasonably, with one caveat worth stating. The all-tackle record white shark, caught by Alf Dean in South Australia in 1959, weighed 1,208 kg. Put its length through this equation and the curve predicts around 1,400 kg, about 16 percent heavy. That is not an error in the equation. It is the ordinary scatter you get when two animals of the same length carry different amounts of condition, the same way two people of one height can differ by thirty pounds.
So every weight on this page is shown as a band of plus or minus 20 percent rather than a single confident figure. The boat length moves much less than that, because taking a cube root of a range squeezes it: a 20 percent swing in the shark is only about a 6 percent swing in the boat. Uncertainty about the animal barely reaches the answer, which is a pleasant property for a model to have.
The other two fish in the drawing
Look closely at the scale drawing and there are three animals in it, not one. Both of the extras come from other films, both are drawn to the same scale as everything else, and both are carrying real numbers.
The orange speck near the shark's nose is a clownfish, four inches long, which at the scale of a 25 foot great white is a few pixels. We drew all of him anyway: body, three white bands, tail, one worried eye. The drawing is vector, so pinch to zoom and he is entirely there. The connection runs deeper than a cameo, because the crew of Jaws nicknamed their mechanical shark Bruce, and the great white in Finding Nemo is named Bruce in his honour. Same shark, one generation and one ocean apart.
The faint shape in the deep water at the bottom is Otodus megalodon at 52 feet, the classic scientific reconstruction, drawn to the same scale and left dim on purpose. Here is the part worth knowing: when Gottfried and colleagues published the standard megalodon size estimates in 1996, they derived the mass by scaling up white shark length-to-weight relationships, which is to say, the exact method this page runs on. Push our equation to their 15.9 metre animal and it returns about 46,600 kg against their published 47,690, within about two percent. The same arithmetic that sizes your boat also weighs the megalodon, and it agrees with the palaeontologists. For the record, carrying one would take about 125 feet of workboat. But megalodon has been extinct for about 3.6 million years, no matter what a certain 2018 film implies, which makes it the only shark on this page you genuinely do not need a boat for.
What this page is not
It is not marine safety guidance. It is not a fishing tool, it is not advice about anything you might actually do on the water, and it is emphatically not a reason to go looking for a shark. Great whites are protected in United States, Australian and South African waters, and the sensible number of them to meet from a boat of any size is zero.
It is arithmetic about a film, done properly, because the film asked a question and then cut to the next scene.