Apr. 6th, 2012

missroserose: (After the Storm)
Slate, like everyone, has a review of the new 3D version of Titanic. And, like every article that even mentions the movie, the comment thread has more or less devolved into a love/hate fest (with assorted snarky comments in between). But every once in a while, you find a gem in the muck, as with this comment by DaveB_NH.

I am in the last third of my life's voyage now and traveling the North Atlantic perhaps too fast, given the vast ice islands I see to port and starboard. I remember being a young man in love with a young woman. Those memories are oddly preserved, as if somewhere far below where I sit in the Captain's chair, gray-haired and grandly bewhiskered, those younger people meet and embrace for the first time, over and over in some underwater reflection of this mighty vessel.

I know what has happened. I dread what will happen. Is life a mystery, a love story, or a disaster? Wonderful or awful? Full of surprises or utterly predicable?

No attitude I can adopt toward the in-voyage movie can save me from the ultimate collision, from the freezing ocean and whatever follows these events. If life and love are foolish, I am still glad to have danced awhile among my fellow passengers.

That's why I like
Titanic.
missroserose: (After the Storm)
Slate, like everyone, has a review of the new 3D version of Titanic. And, like every article that even mentions the movie, the comment thread has more or less devolved into a love/hate fest (with assorted snarky comments in between). But every once in a while, you find a gem in the muck, as with this comment by DaveB_NH.

I am in the last third of my life's voyage now and traveling the North Atlantic perhaps too fast, given the vast ice islands I see to port and starboard. I remember being a young man in love with a young woman. Those memories are oddly preserved, as if somewhere far below where I sit in the Captain's chair, gray-haired and grandly bewhiskered, those younger people meet and embrace for the first time, over and over in some underwater reflection of this mighty vessel.

I know what has happened. I dread what will happen. Is life a mystery, a love story, or a disaster? Wonderful or awful? Full of surprises or utterly predicable?

No attitude I can adopt toward the in-voyage movie can save me from the ultimate collision, from the freezing ocean and whatever follows these events. If life and love are foolish, I am still glad to have danced awhile among my fellow passengers.

That's why I like
Titanic.

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