The King Of The World meets The Bitch Of The Sea., 27 May 2006
Author:
dunmore_ego from Los Angeles, California
*** This comment may contain spoilers ***
Let's get one thing straight before we embark on this perilous journey
into Hollywood History: the only "truth" in this movie is that the RMS
Titanic did sink in April 1912 and that Leonardo DiCaprio is prettier
than Kate Winslet. Everything else in James Cameron's *Titanic* is
marshmallow fancy.
Movie opens in the modern Atlantic, with a Titanic salvage crew helmed
by amiable Brock Lovett (sun-weathered Bill Paxton), who haul
surfaceward some intriguing artifacts. 84-year-old Rose (Gloria Stuart)
claims she was a Titanic passenger, so is brought aboard Lovett's
vessel to provide information.
In a cheeky foreshadowing of the breath-hammering visuals to come,
Lovett's crewmate outlines Titanic's death throes, aided by computer
graphics (probably the selfsame graphics that the actual movie used as
storyboard for its final visuals), before Lovett asks Rose for a
firsthand account of the RMS Titanic and she, in a rheumy Percodan
haze, starts relating a chick flick with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate
Winslet.
And under the chick flick, the film's main premise - a story of White
Pride, sautéed in eleven million gallons of seawater.
Rose's narration is the anomaly that eats at this film's
verisimilitude: though we humor her spinning her tale of irrelevant
romantic rhetoric, when it comes to events outside her sphere of
experience (such as private meetings between the captain and crew), she
relates them as if omniscient (if we are to regard all the film's
action aboard Titanic as her testimony). Even the iceberg impact is
comprehensively covered from all angles (from the lookouts, to the
bridge, to the engine room, captain and crowd) by Rose's "flashback."
Not bad for someone who was backseat bonking her body-shaved boy-man at
the time.
Rose laments that she "doesn't even have a picture of Jack," her
steerage-class lover (Leonardo DiCaprio). Maybe that's why she
remembers him as so staggeringly beautiful.
It's a pity that writer-director Cameron leaned so heavily on the vapid
love story as this movie's propeller, as the rest of the film is a
chest-clenching stunner.
The grandeur of the Royal Mail Ship Titanic is beautifully captured in
its restored filmic incarnation. Costuming, characters and exterior
shots are paid the utmost detail although it must be said that,
historically at least, DiCaprio's character (Jack) was probably
treading a time period more acquainted with the use of recreational
drugs with his yells of "Woooo!" from the ship's prow. His friend,
Fabrizio (Danny Nucci), didn't help with the authenticity; supplied by
a casting agency specializing in Ethnic Stereotypes, Nucci is about as
Italian as a Domino's Pizza, sporting the absolute worst "Movie
Italian" accent of all time the exact same accent my friends and I
would adopt in the schoolyard when we were "pretending to be Italian."
Winning their tickets in a card game, Jack and Fabrizio are overjoyed
even in their steerage quarters Whilst above the water line, onto the
first class decks desultorily rambles Rose (Kate Winslet) with her
demanding mother (Frances Fisher), stormy fiancé (Billy Zane) and
luggage enough to kill three pack-elephants. Elbow-gloved and
triple-corseted, she remarks via voice-over, "To me it was a slave
ship, taking me back to America in chains." Try telling that to an
African-American, honey, in your big feathery hat and frothy bloomers.
Meeting Jack during a spoiled brat suicide attempt, Rose is drawn to
his vagabond swagger and hairless torso, falling for idiot lines like,
"You've got a fire inside you and I'd hate to see it go out." (George
Lucas wrote that one.) The film world does not communicate "smell." The
super-privileged have a way of "deodorizing" themselves that is wholly
alien to the super-poor. Hence, no matter how much prettier Jack is
than Rose, as soon as she stood downwind of his below-decks stench, the
romance would have come to an earthy halt (retching optional).
Instead, Jack is invited to sup with the pinky-raisers, where he
blathers about his itinerant lifestyle as if it was a blessing; living
the devil-may-care bum's life of cobbling his sustenance from whatever
rat-brained scheme comes along, and literally not knowing "where he'll
be sleeping the next night" may be a romantic notion if you are a
successful writer or an independently wealthy traveler but not if you
are, in fact, a REAL BUM.
An ocean liner has to sink before Rose lets go of this vagrant (whilst
staying in Spoiled Byoch character by selfishly hogging the one
floating plank in all of the Atlantic).
A well-made, mind-numbing romance this cheesy usually scores low but
Cameron gained his points purely due to his magnificent boat-tipping.
The climax of *Titanic* is a startling visualization of an historic
event which no one alive on earth today saw first hand. Drawing from
the latest forensic knowledge, combined with the physics of the
process, Cameron places us directly on deck during his nightmare
vision. We see the situation mount, from berg impact and apathy, to
incredulity and ultimately panic, capturing the violent and colossal
majesty of the ship breaking in half and pulling its aft section
downwards vertically.
The death throes of the RMS Titanic are astounding in their realism; we
cannot help but compare the final scenes of *A Night To Remember*, with
its wholly inaccurate, romantic portrayal of the doomed passengers
aboard that black-and-white Titanic singing nobly together as their
ship slipped away under them at a 45 degree angle. Not only is
collective humanity never that level-headed, the physics of the sinking
process was entirely ignored.
With humanity onboard Cameron's boat ignobly screaming and selfishly
grasping and punching and shooting and falling violently onto propeller
blades, with smokestacks crushing passengers, decks splintering, cables
whiplashing through foaming brine, and the final cataclysmic submersion
at a vertiginous ninety-degree angle, Cameron's *Titanic* is titanic!
If even for a brief, awe-inspiring moment in time, it's good to be the
King of the World.
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The King Of The World meets The Bitch Of The Sea., 27 May 2006

Author: dunmore_ego from Los Angeles, California
*** This comment may contain spoilers ***
Let's get one thing straight before we embark on this perilous journey into Hollywood History: the only "truth" in this movie is that the RMS Titanic did sink in April 1912 and that Leonardo DiCaprio is prettier than Kate Winslet. Everything else in James Cameron's *Titanic* is marshmallow fancy.
Movie opens in the modern Atlantic, with a Titanic salvage crew helmed by amiable Brock Lovett (sun-weathered Bill Paxton), who haul surfaceward some intriguing artifacts. 84-year-old Rose (Gloria Stuart) claims she was a Titanic passenger, so is brought aboard Lovett's vessel to provide information.
In a cheeky foreshadowing of the breath-hammering visuals to come, Lovett's crewmate outlines Titanic's death throes, aided by computer graphics (probably the selfsame graphics that the actual movie used as storyboard for its final visuals), before Lovett asks Rose for a firsthand account of the RMS Titanic and she, in a rheumy Percodan haze, starts relating a chick flick with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet.
And under the chick flick, the film's main premise - a story of White Pride, sautéed in eleven million gallons of seawater.
Rose's narration is the anomaly that eats at this film's verisimilitude: though we humor her spinning her tale of irrelevant romantic rhetoric, when it comes to events outside her sphere of experience (such as private meetings between the captain and crew), she relates them as if omniscient (if we are to regard all the film's action aboard Titanic as her testimony). Even the iceberg impact is comprehensively covered from all angles (from the lookouts, to the bridge, to the engine room, captain and crowd) by Rose's "flashback." Not bad for someone who was backseat bonking her body-shaved boy-man at the time.
Rose laments that she "doesn't even have a picture of Jack," her steerage-class lover (Leonardo DiCaprio). Maybe that's why she remembers him as so staggeringly beautiful.
It's a pity that writer-director Cameron leaned so heavily on the vapid love story as this movie's propeller, as the rest of the film is a chest-clenching stunner.
The grandeur of the Royal Mail Ship Titanic is beautifully captured in its restored filmic incarnation. Costuming, characters and exterior shots are paid the utmost detail although it must be said that, historically at least, DiCaprio's character (Jack) was probably treading a time period more acquainted with the use of recreational drugs with his yells of "Woooo!" from the ship's prow. His friend, Fabrizio (Danny Nucci), didn't help with the authenticity; supplied by a casting agency specializing in Ethnic Stereotypes, Nucci is about as Italian as a Domino's Pizza, sporting the absolute worst "Movie Italian" accent of all time the exact same accent my friends and I would adopt in the schoolyard when we were "pretending to be Italian." Winning their tickets in a card game, Jack and Fabrizio are overjoyed even in their steerage quarters Whilst above the water line, onto the first class decks desultorily rambles Rose (Kate Winslet) with her demanding mother (Frances Fisher), stormy fiancé (Billy Zane) and luggage enough to kill three pack-elephants. Elbow-gloved and triple-corseted, she remarks via voice-over, "To me it was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains." Try telling that to an African-American, honey, in your big feathery hat and frothy bloomers.
Meeting Jack during a spoiled brat suicide attempt, Rose is drawn to his vagabond swagger and hairless torso, falling for idiot lines like, "You've got a fire inside you and I'd hate to see it go out." (George Lucas wrote that one.) The film world does not communicate "smell." The super-privileged have a way of "deodorizing" themselves that is wholly alien to the super-poor. Hence, no matter how much prettier Jack is than Rose, as soon as she stood downwind of his below-decks stench, the romance would have come to an earthy halt (retching optional).
Instead, Jack is invited to sup with the pinky-raisers, where he blathers about his itinerant lifestyle as if it was a blessing; living the devil-may-care bum's life of cobbling his sustenance from whatever rat-brained scheme comes along, and literally not knowing "where he'll be sleeping the next night" may be a romantic notion if you are a successful writer or an independently wealthy traveler but not if you are, in fact, a REAL BUM.
An ocean liner has to sink before Rose lets go of this vagrant (whilst staying in Spoiled Byoch character by selfishly hogging the one floating plank in all of the Atlantic).
A well-made, mind-numbing romance this cheesy usually scores low but Cameron gained his points purely due to his magnificent boat-tipping.
The climax of *Titanic* is a startling visualization of an historic event which no one alive on earth today saw first hand. Drawing from the latest forensic knowledge, combined with the physics of the process, Cameron places us directly on deck during his nightmare vision. We see the situation mount, from berg impact and apathy, to incredulity and ultimately panic, capturing the violent and colossal majesty of the ship breaking in half and pulling its aft section downwards vertically.
The death throes of the RMS Titanic are astounding in their realism; we cannot help but compare the final scenes of *A Night To Remember*, with its wholly inaccurate, romantic portrayal of the doomed passengers aboard that black-and-white Titanic singing nobly together as their ship slipped away under them at a 45 degree angle. Not only is collective humanity never that level-headed, the physics of the sinking process was entirely ignored.
With humanity onboard Cameron's boat ignobly screaming and selfishly grasping and punching and shooting and falling violently onto propeller blades, with smokestacks crushing passengers, decks splintering, cables whiplashing through foaming brine, and the final cataclysmic submersion at a vertiginous ninety-degree angle, Cameron's *Titanic* is titanic!
If even for a brief, awe-inspiring moment in time, it's good to be the King of the World.
(Movie Maniacs, visit: www.poffysmoviemania.com)
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