I settle in. Recline my seat. Put on my 3D glasses.
No one else has booked tickets for this weekday matinee of Titanic’s 25th Anniversary Re-release. I can mumble-quote all my favorite lines out loud.
“It’s been 84 years, and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in. Titanic was called the ship of dreams, and it was. It really was.”
So begins old Rose’s tale. I’m giddy with excitement. I feel like I’m 12 years old again.
I was (am?) obsessed with this movie. I’ll put aside many reasons for now — Kate Winslet’s amazing wardrobe! The snappy dialogue! James Cameron’s maniacal attention to historical accuracy! — and hone in on just one.
No, it wasn’t Leo. Though I had his picture in my locker like many other girls in my 6th-grade class.
Titanic had an immense hold on me because it took place during the Victorian era. I was very into all things Victorian as a child. For starters, I lived in a big ol’ Victorian house undergoing restoration.
I had the Samantha American Girl doll because she lived in a Second Empire house just like mine. I arranged the Victorian Playmobil play sets in my dollhouse. I had Victorian paper dolls. We also owned books about the Titanic tragedy. If there were a Titanic trivia category, you’d want me on your team.
The movie offered something my toys and books couldn’t. To see the ship’s gleaming first-class cabins and grand staircase gave me a taste of what my parents envisioned for our house.
Things at home were always in a state of incompletion. Nothing in our house was new. Everything on Titanic was.
The scenes in Rose’s stateroom were my favorite. The sitting room where Jack famously sketches her is so over-the-top ritzy Victorian. As the steamy scene unfolded, I studied the room’s decor. The couch looked a lot like the one in our parlor.
Those scenes helped me visualize what our parlor might have looked like new. My parents had arranged their precious antiques as if it were a real Victorian sitting room. Some of the furniture was broken. The decades-old carpet was threadbare and stained. The plaster had water damage. Everything was dusty.
We go see movies to escape, to immerse ourselves in other worlds. That was definitely the case for me every time I saw Titanic in theaters, then on every subsequent re-watching when we bought the VHS tapes. It helped me fill in the holey ceilings and rotted-out floorboards of my home.
Of course, the movie’s dream-like haze only lasts for so long. All that beautiful dark wood and gilded ornamentation end up at the bottom of the Atlantic by the movie’s end.
I preferred the first half of the movie as a kid. Over time, I’ve developed more appreciation for the second half. Seeing Titanic on the big screen made me realize how much respect James Cameron has for water. The guy clearly loves to film it and make movies about it. (See also, Avatar: The Way of Water.)
Water is a motif that comes up in my writing over and over. We were in a constant battle with it at home. The omens started the first night in the house. The bathtub’s hot water handle broke off in my dad’s hand. Water gushed into the tub. He had to scramble to find a way to turn it off.
Dad dedicated entire pages of his restoration notebook to their ordeals with the ongoing water problem. The previous owner hadn’t repaired anything properly and everything leaked.
I was two years old at the time of this entry:
October 17, 1988
Down pour. Water coming in kid’s closet & house-keepers room like a shower. Water dripping all over on 3rd floor. Everyone at everyone’s throat. We almost have this house beat… I think when main roof is done, we’re over the hump. But the house is not giving up without one heck of a fight.
How ominous that my dad wrote they almost had the house beat. They didn’t. The water issues remained the entire time we lived there. We used 5-gallon buckets to catch rainwater in the kitchen when it stormed. Certain areas of the house always smelled damp and moldy, even if it hadn’t rained in a while.
Because this water motif is constantly on my mind, I was more dialed into it when I saw Titanic in theaters last month. I paid careful attention to how water drives the action and suspense.
At first, the passengers don’t seem all that concerned. They were told the ship was unsinkable after all.
The second half of Titanic is not pleasant to watch. As the water starts creeping in, the reality quickly becomes clear to the passengers. It’s awful. You really feel like you’re on the sinking ship. Panic, chaos, fear, all of it.
That’s probably why I’m so drawn to the second half now. Titanic would not be so memorable if it were only a Jack and Rose love story.
It’s chilling to realize that yes, this did happen, and yes, all these people died because of human hubris. There weren’t enough lifeboats. The orchestra played on the deck until the very end. The ship’s baker rode the ship down like an elevator. All of that happened.
The movie ends in a dream sequence. Old Rose dies in her sleep, and Young Rose reunites with Jack on the grand staircase. Everyone who died on the ship surrounds them.
I just love that. Even if the story doesn’t end in the way you hoped, you can always imagine what might have been.
This is alluring and a creative weaving of the movie’s Victorian tone and your upbringing in a Victorian home. Love it Betsy! Eager to read more!
"Of course, the movie’s dream-like haze only lasts for so long. All that beautiful dark wood and gilded ornamentation end up at the bottom of the Atlantic by the movie’s end." Spoiler alert!!! 😜