Fucking Titanic
Sep. 17th, 2005 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielI just heard the strains of the Titanic score on TV and my heart welled up in my throat. Needless to say, this pissed me right the hell off.
Picture it:
It was 1998. I was still in the throes of severe heartbreak. No. It wasn't heartbreak, it was heartshatter. And this movie had come out from one of my favourite directors, James Cameron. Aunt Tudi wanted to see it for dramatic reasons and the whole splendour of the movie. I wanted to see it because of the killer special effects and, when I'm down, I like to see large numbers of humans perish. It's a thing with me. Besides, I desperately needed a diversion from my current state of mind.
So off we went to see Titanic in the late afternoon. It was a pretty Spring day. The sun was up. It's important that I stress that the sun was up.
The movie began and Aunt Tudi and I were swept away by the story. I was particularly swept away by the music. James Horner floats my boat, fries my onions, twists my Twizzlers, and other sundry actions that ought not be mentioned. I forgot my woes and enjoyed the movie...until the last hour. When I saw the old couple on the bed and especially the young Irish woman trying to comfort her little girl, accompanied with the heart-rending Celtic-themed score, I fucking lost it. LOST...IT...
Now, I hate to cry when watching a movie or a TV show. It makes me feel weak and worthy of a swift beheading. I had to choke back tears last night watching Battlestar Galactica which, by the by, featured Uilleann Pipes during the more poignant moments. During Titanic, I lost all control. I boo-hooed like Ren Hoek. I was tilting back my head and squalling like a piece of shit girly girl. The emotion and the music was all too much for me. I had a complete cinematic break down. I hated the movie for doing that to me and I hated myself for allowing such hijacking of my emotions. My only saving grace was that I could wear my sunglasses on the way out so Aunt Tudi nor anyone else would know that I'd cried so hard, I was snubbing and hiccuping.
I was wrong. Absolutely fucking wrong. See, I didn't stop to think that Titanic was 5 hours long and that, when we exited the theatre, the sun would be down. There I was doing my bad Cory Hart impression and everyone knew why: I was trying to hide the fact that I was a complete ninny. So I left the Hollywood 20 more miserable than when I arrived and I've hated Titanic ever since.
I will break my boycott of the film if I tune in right around the time the boat goes vertical 'cos I just love getting to see Propeller Man. He's the epitome of bad luck. I mean, it's bad enough that you're on a sinking ship and you're falling into the freezing water, but to smack right into a gigantic propeller on the way down is really over the top. Not only do I laugh at Propeller Man's plight, I also empathise with him. Shit like that would happen to me.
Picture it:
It was 1998. I was still in the throes of severe heartbreak. No. It wasn't heartbreak, it was heartshatter. And this movie had come out from one of my favourite directors, James Cameron. Aunt Tudi wanted to see it for dramatic reasons and the whole splendour of the movie. I wanted to see it because of the killer special effects and, when I'm down, I like to see large numbers of humans perish. It's a thing with me. Besides, I desperately needed a diversion from my current state of mind.
So off we went to see Titanic in the late afternoon. It was a pretty Spring day. The sun was up. It's important that I stress that the sun was up.
The movie began and Aunt Tudi and I were swept away by the story. I was particularly swept away by the music. James Horner floats my boat, fries my onions, twists my Twizzlers, and other sundry actions that ought not be mentioned. I forgot my woes and enjoyed the movie...until the last hour. When I saw the old couple on the bed and especially the young Irish woman trying to comfort her little girl, accompanied with the heart-rending Celtic-themed score, I fucking lost it. LOST...IT...
Now, I hate to cry when watching a movie or a TV show. It makes me feel weak and worthy of a swift beheading. I had to choke back tears last night watching Battlestar Galactica which, by the by, featured Uilleann Pipes during the more poignant moments. During Titanic, I lost all control. I boo-hooed like Ren Hoek. I was tilting back my head and squalling like a piece of shit girly girl. The emotion and the music was all too much for me. I had a complete cinematic break down. I hated the movie for doing that to me and I hated myself for allowing such hijacking of my emotions. My only saving grace was that I could wear my sunglasses on the way out so Aunt Tudi nor anyone else would know that I'd cried so hard, I was snubbing and hiccuping.
I was wrong. Absolutely fucking wrong. See, I didn't stop to think that Titanic was 5 hours long and that, when we exited the theatre, the sun would be down. There I was doing my bad Cory Hart impression and everyone knew why: I was trying to hide the fact that I was a complete ninny. So I left the Hollywood 20 more miserable than when I arrived and I've hated Titanic ever since.
I will break my boycott of the film if I tune in right around the time the boat goes vertical 'cos I just love getting to see Propeller Man. He's the epitome of bad luck. I mean, it's bad enough that you're on a sinking ship and you're falling into the freezing water, but to smack right into a gigantic propeller on the way down is really over the top. Not only do I laugh at Propeller Man's plight, I also empathise with him. Shit like that would happen to me.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-18 05:06 am (UTC)And I'm with you on "Steel Magnolias" That scene with Sally Field in the graveyeard leaves me blubbering like a big ol' baby every time I see it and I've seen "Steel Magnolias" something like seven or eight times now.
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Date: 2005-09-18 06:07 am (UTC)