Child of the '90s alert, folks: if you're already fed up with people talking about the re-release of Titanic, you should probably leave now.
Reginald Kitty would if he could.
Before we get started, we're just going to get this out of the way right now.
By the way, if you're ever in Canada, NEVER say anything about Celine Dion in public. I learned this from personal experience. Just trust me.
I was excited to see this film fifteen years ago, and I was excited to see it today. Of course, times have changed -- a realization I made in the car on the way to the theater -- but some things have remained the same.
Way back when the world was flat, and we paid for Internet access by the minute, my mother pulled me out of school during the lunch break so we could see the picture together; my sister was in school, and my dad was at work, so it was just the two of us on a special film adventure. We were hyped up to see the underwater footage of the actual ship, and to bask in the historical accuracies. Considering we paid $3.50 for a ticket, it was cheap at twice the price to see it in 2D. Price didn't matter, 'cause I ruddy loved this film. I mean, I went totally nuts for this film. I distinctly remember owning the soundtrack, a wall calendar, and one of those knock-off necklaces (which I did wear religiously, when I wasn't dramatically dropping it off the foot of my bed [all true stories]).
My love for Titanic was so great, I received the VHS for Christmas that year from two different people (because that wasn't a difficult situation for a six year old to navigate around); one was full-screen, one wide-screen (Fun Fact: Apparently, I have always been a format snob, since the full-screen version is still in its cellophane wrapper fifteen years later).
Today -- when we spend so much time on the Internet that we wish we could get paid by the minute -- was quite a different affair. For one thing, I wasn't forced to change into one of those terrible floral romper/jumper/one-piece-nightmares that my mother liked to dress me in. I distinctly remember the very one I wore that day, because I despised it the most of the several I had: blue and white plaid, with a fruit pattern, and fruit shaped buttons that were too big for the button holes, so you could never get them unbuttoned. I'm a big girl now, so I can wear whatever the hell I want.
This was what I wore to Titanic this time. And, before you even ask me: yes, I am walking a hairless cat. It's been a year, and this photograph still stuns me.
For weeks, I have been hopping up and down in anticipation for this film. Every time I saw an ad for it, I would internally fangirl scream. Of course, this time, the excitement wasn't all about the historical accuracies; they took a back seat to the nostalgia factor.
Another difference was the format.
Let me just say right now, I cannot see 3D movies (I was sixteen years old before I knew Viewmasters were supposed to be a single 3D image instead of two regular images). I would have much preferred 2D, because everything that was supposed to be 3D just ended up being fuzzy for no good bloody reason. I did enjoy the IMAX portion, though it wasn't worth the forty bucks our little family of three paid to get in the door. I didn't pay that much to see the Plain White T's, dammit.
Surely, you knew this picture would make its way back to the blog somehow. Today is that lucky day! (Don't even ask me: of course I'm listening to Big Bad World as I write this post. Of course I am.)
The main thing I had to keep in mind at the theater was that I had to be a good girl, and not laugh during the whole "I'll never let go, Jack" scene. By jove, I succeeded, too! Instead, I laughed while the ship was sinking, because my mother and I were throwing water at each other. We wanted to get the full experience, after all.
So, what three things have we learned from this jolly through time?
* Fifteen years later, my mother and I are still partners in crime.
* We should have guessed fifteen years ago that I would be really into period dramas. I mean, how the hell did we miss that one? That's just as bad as us missing the whole "help-I've-fallen-in-love-with-a-musician-and-I-can't-get-up" syndrome; the signs were there that early.
* I am still a format snob. Remember how I flipped my wig over the mono Ram? Again, the signs were always there, we were just to naive to notice them.
In the increasingly true words of Frank Turner, "time may change a lot, but some things, they stay the same".
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