Nearly three decades later, it’s safe to say we were once hopelessly obsessed with Titanic
As April rolls along, many of us self-proclaimed “emotional archaeologists” feel the pull of a very specific ritual: the annual rewatch of James Cameron’s Titanic. But unlike our starry-eyed 1998 selves, we now approach the 3-hour-and-14-minute runtime with a more realistic strategy—specifically, one that involves scheduled bathroom breaks. All that water sloshing around doesn’t help.
This year, April 15 marked the 113th anniversary of the Titanic’s tragic maiden voyage from Southampton to New York. And while maritime history may not be everyone’s passion, most of us still remember the film’s unforgettable lines—”I’m the king of the world!” or “I’ll never let go, Jack”—that have echoed through pop culture ever since.
Cameron’s Titanic boldly embraces every romantic cliché: a beautiful but repressed society girl (Kate Winslet’s Rose), her cartoonishly wealthy and controlling fiancé (Billy Zane’s Cal), and of course, the poor, free-spirited artist with a heart of gold (Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jack). Topped off with Celine Dion’s immortal anthem My Heart Will Go On, the film was almost too sentimental to admit loving—at least back then.
But now that we’ve all aged and stopped caring about seeming “cool,” many of us are ready to confess: Titanic broke our hearts in the best way. Yes, even if the rich girl tossed a multi-million-dollar necklace into the sea for reasons that remain… questionable.
Why Titanic Still Resonates
If any of this hits close to home, then “April 14, 1912” probably still takes up space in your memory—pushing out more useful things like the Wi-Fi password or whether you bought milk. But Titanic earned that place in our minds. After all, it won 11 Oscars, including Best Picture, and deeply imprinted itself on those who first experienced it on the big screen.
The film only had four days (in story time) to make us fall in love, weep, rage, and hope—all before that inevitable iceberg changed everything. Instead of turning the tragedy into a documentary, Cameron delivered an emotional rollercoaster anchored by two fictional characters who felt heartbreakingly real.
The date “April 14, 1912” is recited in the film by Rose’s granddaughter as she examines Jack’s charcoal drawing—somehow perfectly preserved after 84 years underwater. The image, much like the romance it captured, is a haunting symbol of what was lost. That same night, 1,500 people, including Jack, vanished beneath the icy surface of the North Atlantic.
Back in the present, treasure hunter Brock Lovett doesn’t seem too concerned with those lost souls. His obsession lies with the elusive Heart of the Ocean necklace. Meanwhile, the elderly Rose guards its secret with maddening vagueness—only to drop it into the ocean in a final act of poetic justice. Perhaps, in denying Brock his prize, she was also punishing the greed that once surrounded her.
Why Our Hearts Still Go On
If you first heard “April 14, 1912” in a theater back in 1998, brace yourself: that was 27 years ago. Not 10. Let that sink in (pun intended).
It’s been nearly three decades since Cameron’s epic shattered hearts worldwide. As Jack let go of the floating door and sank into the ocean like a frozen Romeo, the sobbing was heard around the globe—mostly from women, if the stereotypes are to be believed. Whether men were equally moved remains a mystery, though it’s entirely possible they just didn’t want to admit it.
And about that door: no, Jack couldn’t have fit. Not according to page 147 of the script, as Cameron wearily confirmed in a 2017 Vanity Fair interview. And even if he could have, the poor guy had just escaped imprisonment, dodged bullets, and narrowly avoided being crushed by a splitting ship. He was done.
What he did manage was to save Rose—physically and emotionally—and inspire her to live fully. She honored that promise, carrying him in her heart through a life of adventure and self-discovery. The necklace, lovingly sketched by Jack just hours before his death, was perhaps her final tribute to a love that could never be replaced.
For us viewers, Titanic doesn’t offer a happy ending, and that’s kind of the point. We come back to it each April not for resolution, but for catharsis. We weep, we hope, and yes—we still wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time Jack will make it onto that door.
But deep down, we know he never will.
