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BY KIM MORGAN, 243-2122 EXT. 342
Despite his tag as action director extraordinaire, James Cameron has always been a romantic at heart. From the first Terminator to True Lies, from Piranha II: The Spawning to Aliens, he has revealed a penchant for intriguing fables centered on both familial relationships and ardent amour. Like many directors of the action-adventure genre, Cameron exalts the archetypal themes of perseverance, sacrifice and human valor to an energizing, fevered pitch, but not without at least an attempt at soul. The disturbances of basic human yearnings soak his films in a sweaty pool of pining, which, for the viewer, creates an attachment to his characters but does not supersede the foremost task of entertaining. Though maternal devotion figures prominently in Aliens, and desperate, grief-stricken love deepens the task of oil drilling in The Abyss, Cameron's films never get too sloppy, freeing them from any association with "chick movies." That is, until now. Bravely creating a gauzy period piece amid an action-packed disaster movie, Cameron makes like a more masculine Merchant Ivory with his latest film, Titanic. A love story first and foremost, Titanic is most likely causing a ripple of disapproval among Cameron's more macho fan contingent. As the previews have revealed, the principal actors are all dream boats of another order: Kate Winslet is the eternal Thomas Hardy heroine--a voluptuous beauty whose rosy cheeks and puffy lips bespeak constant sexual ripeness. Leonardo DiCaprio is the beautiful boy/man, both a Horatio Algerian "ragged dick" and a fragile flower of childlike beauty ready for a Bruce Weber close-up. And Billy Zane is the even weirder version of Peter Gallagher and Alec Baldwin, men so classically handsome they seem perverse. With these leads, Titanic plays like William Wellman's Wings, with Winslet as the earthy Clara Bow, waffling between two actors prettier than most women. But Winslet isn't torn by romantic devotions, she is suicidally depressed by them. As young Rose, she is trapped in a loveless Edwardian engagement to the wealthy Cal Hockley (Zane), a petulant snob who is ferrying Rose first-class on the most famous cruise ship in history: the Royal Marine Steamer Titanic. Also aboard, though in third-class steerage, is Jack Dawson (DiCaprio), a free-spirited artist who won his ticket from a lucky poker hand. The personification of living life to the fullest, Jack naturally becomes Rose's true love and conduit for self-expression. As the amusing guest who saves the clumsy Rose from falling overboard (actually a suicide attempt), Jack is treated to a night of elegance with Rose's circle--which includes the nouveau riche Molly Brown (Kathy Bates); Rose's money-desperate mother (Frances Fisher) and the Titanic's master shipbuilder (Victor Garber). Soon Jack becomes a threat to Cal as the sparks between the ragged stranger and the potential trophy wife grow all too obvious. Using his snoopy valet (David Warner) as a spy, Cal has Rose tailed, not necessarily to confirm his suspicions, but to threaten her into marriage--how dare anyone get the better of such a powerful man! But Rose and Jack prove more powerful as they run through the exquisitely re-created ship with the brazen excitement of a cheerier Romeo and Juliet. And like the star-crossed lovers whose stony limits could not hold love out, Jack and Rose are doomed, not to punishment of young folly, but to a confirmation of how powerful love can be. It sounds absolutely corny, and it is. Not only is there a Celine Dion hit single wailing with the credits, but there's an old lady sub-plot that reeks of Ron Howard. It doesn't matter. Titanic works on every level of cinematic entertainment. The sets and effects are impressive, the story is engrossing and moving, the disaster sequences are vividly real and the actors are all first-rate. Winslet is her usual lustrous self; Zane amps up what could have been a cardboard cutout of malevolence; and DiCaprio is charming and understated--just the anchor Rose and the viewer need to keep things in perspective. Cameron's allegorical study of living fast and dying young gloriously succeeds, even in its cheesiest moments of romantic glee. When young Jack yells to a roaring sea, "I'm the king of the world!" or when the elderly Rose (played by Gloria Stuart) purrs, "A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets," we don't mind, for Cameron manipulates beautifully and, unlike Spielberg, genuinely. Like the young lovers chucking what is expected of them, the viewer surrenders to Titanic's charm. Even the most cynical filmgoers will not be able to surpass the joy in letting Cameron's epic wash over them. |
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