A fleeting scream in Jaws surfacing as decades of income
- Aug 18, 2025
- 2 min read
18 August 2025
Jeffrey Voorhees was twelve when his tenure on the big screen amounted to little more than a panicked scream before being swallowed by Bruce, yet nearly half a century later that brief moment continues to pay dividends. Voorhees, who portrayed the ill‑fated Alex Kintner in the iconic Jaws, still receives residual payments every time the film airs on television, ensuring a steady stream of income from a role that vanished from the script in seconds.
It is a strange kind of fortune born of fleeting cinematic mortality, summed up by Voorhees himself in a wry comment to Syfy when he quipped, “It pays to die” But residuals are only part of his strategy to monetize that moment of on‑screen doom. For years he shunned the spotlight, living quietly on Martha’s Vineyard the very locale where Jaws was filmed but more recently he has embraced it. He now commands as much as ten thousand pounds per appearance at fan conventions, sells signed memorabilia online, and offers personalized greetings through Cameo.
His fanbase’s devotion borders on the obsessive. One admirer, overcome with emotion, presented Voorhees with an inflatable yellow raft an eerie prop from the scene of Alex’s tragic demise and he signed it for her. Others have purchased his discarded royalty statements on eBay, sometimes for thousands of dollars, and asked him to autograph them. He has since started preserving them rather than discarding them.
He is not alone. Jason Weaver, the singing voice of young Simba in Disney’s original Lion King, reportedly accepted a reduced upfront fee in exchange for a share of soundtrack royalties, a deal that has turned far more profitable than the original two‑million‑dollar offer. Likewise, Casey Margolis, who appeared for only a moment as young Jonah Hill in Superbad (and is infamously remembered for doodling penises), continues to receive royalty checks, netting him approximately one hundred thousand dollars over time despite the role’s brevity.
Such stories may feel surreal, especially when set against the modern context where streaming services prevail and residual structures have weakened. Young actors now often receive negligible compensation for their work, as streaming platforms typically provide small flat fees rather than ongoing royalties. The fact that Voorhees and others continue to earn so substantially has become illustrative of how fan culture and rights arrangements can conspire to elevate even the smallest role into something lucrative.
These tales are more than trivia. They spotlight how sound contracts, nostalgia, and fandom can transform the ephemeral into enduring profit. Voorhees’s strategy shows how someone can take a fleeting moment, once lost in the chaos of cinematic storytelling, and reshape it into a lasting personal brand. It is a cautionary and fascinating reminder of how media, memory, and money intersect.
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