Monday, September 20, 2004
I remember the first time I saw Titanic. It was with Michelle. The thing that strikes me about that movie is how much it filled me with a sense of dread like no other movie had up to that point (no, not even Schindler’s List, which I paid to see three times).
Yeah, I know, make jokes about the dreadful acting, or James Cameron’s dreadful directing (I don’t think either apply . . . well, except for Leonardo). But the movie just unsettled me. Made me feel less safe. I just wanted to crawl into bed with Michelle and our cats and hide for a few days. Like, wallow in hopelessness. Maybe it was the Irish kids lying in bed as the ship went down. Or the countless people being washed / swept off (or into) the ship. Or being smashed on/by various parts of the ship, or the ship itself. Or the mother and infant floating (frozen and dead) on the Atlantic.
Seriously, the feeling I had after walking out of the theater was very similar to how I felt at about 10 a.m. Tuesday, September 11, 2001. Has a movie ever made you feel that way?
Anyway, I’m sure you know what I did when it was on NBC last night. If you think it was “turned off the T.V., or at least changed the channel,” then you don’t know me at all.