Titanic

(James Cameron, 1997)

My favourite shot in “Titanic” shows the massive boat small and alone in a desolate, endless seascape. A flare has been fired and it emits a pitiful popping sound as sparks rain into the water. The light from stars that shone millions of years ago dots the night sky with more intensity than could be found at any other location on earth. There is a quiet beauty to it. It is a moment removed from the unthinkable horror that makes up the film’s inevitable climax. History tells us that even the nearest ships won’t make it in time to rescue the 1,500 people gasping for breath and fighting hypothermia and panic in the middle of the North Atlantic, but we know that Rose will live to tell about it.


I first saw “Titanic” in theatres in December of 1997, the first of the three or four times I would see it on the big screen. Nearly 12 years after its release, it is still the highest grossing film in the world. Why were people, including myself, so mesmerized with it? It was a movie for lovers, but it was also one for those who had lost loves for one reason or another. There’s nothing like watching a doomed romance on screen to mend a broken heart.

Theatres showed it for months and I recall it playing well into the summer of 1998. The backlash was inevitable. “Titanic” has not been an easy film to admit liking. The dawn of the Internet age has meant a new era of cynicism. People have had no qualms with sinking Titanic a second time. As such, I feel I’m going to have to defend my love for this particular film rather than simply extol its virtues. Everyone’s seen it, most at least twice. The box office proves it.

It also leads me, I think, to explain a little bit more in depth my approach to writing film reviews, especially reviews of films that I consider my all-time favourites. Hundreds of thousands of films have been made. Why is “Titanic” in my top ten? Because Leonardo DiCaprio turns in a pretty good performance? He’s better in other films. So is Kate Winslet. The special effects? Sure, they’re amazing, but “Titanic” doesn’t jump to mind when I think about movies with great effects. I could argue it either way. Is it the script? When it comes to some of the scenes, I’ve heard better, more natural and thought-provoking dialogue in Bell ads.

Each of the movies on this list of mine is a movie that has resonated with me over the nearly 30 years I’ve been watching movies. Watching a movie that used to mean a lot to me brings the original time, circumstances and feelings rushing back. I’m faced with a conundrum as someone who would like to have a collection of solid film reviews under his belt. Can I really be subjective about a film that I associate so fiercely with my first love, a girl with whom I saw this movie twice in theatres on opposite sides of the country? She even looked a little bit like Rose, even though I’ve never been the Jack type.


Every insipid, obligatory beat of “Titanic” is part of so damned romantic an idea. Two young people from opposing classes meet and fall in love over the course of two days at sea on a vessel neither of them knows is doomed. It’s a perfect tragic formula. We know the Titanic will sink. There must have been two people on the ship who were in love. They must have lost one another on the night of April 14th, 1912. It’s a heartbreaking idea that James Cameron executes with more passion and preparation than any filmmaker I’ve seen. The fact that he adores what he has uncovered in his research is evident in very frame.

I’ve always been a fan of the story, but over the last few years I’ve grown an interest in the technical aspects of the film’s production. I watched the movie again a couple of nights ago and I can’t stop wanting more, to get a look at every angle of how the story was put together. I’m currently listening to a commentary track given by the cast and crew, who are endlessly regaling the authenticity of the final project – the small details of designs on the china, the accuracy of the carvings in the room interiors, Cameron himself getting on his knees and scrubbing at scuff marks that shouldn’t have been on the brand new floors. From idea to execution, the coordination of it all is astounding.


A fictional portrayal of the disaster of the Titanic places high demands on audience empathy. Few can imagine what it must have been like. Cameron and his crew built the environment and characters from photographs, artwork and first-hand looks at the ship as it lay on the bottom of the Atlantic. The sinking was a cold, sterile fact of humanity’s ambitions thwarted by pride and lack of precaution. Jack and Rose add the warmth necessary to bring life to an event that hardly anyone alive witnessed first hand. They are cut from the romance flick cloth, but there is magic apparent in Rose’s smile against the sunset. When Jack lays on his back and smokes while looking at the stars, it’s not hard to believe that he could reach up and collect them in his hand. Because we know of the ship’s demise, we feel the significance of every last moment, and the more we come to admire the characters, the less we want reality to intercede.


No wonder the attitudes toward “Titanic” are so polarized. If it were a different ship in a different time, if Jack and Rose had sailed to America and were given the chance to begin their relationship, perhaps some would be a little more forgiving of their exuberance. But I speak of these characters as if they’re real. Maybe they were to me, for a period, when I was experiencing the same kind of whirlwind romantic feelings for the first time. I like that about a movie. I know the ship sinks. But what a voyage.


Four more reviews to go.