Disaster related Peril and Violence, Nudity, Sensuality and Brief Language, view at your own risk. |
| “ | I’ll never let go. I promise. | ” |
Rose DeWitt Bukater is a young heiress and socialite forced into a loveless engagement with a wealthy son of a steel tycoon, Cal Hockley. She can't bear the stress of her expectations and attempts suicide. Rose is saved by a poor, free-spirited and talented artist, Jack Dawson, who she falls in love with. Together they start an affair that doesn't last long when Titanic strikes the iceberg.
Part of the depth of her character comes from the fact that she changes more throughout the film than any other character. When we get our first glimpse of her, we think we’ve got her figured out: she’s wealthy and beautiful, and she’s got a handsome fiancé. In short, she has it all. Or she would have it all, if being a bored housewife were all she aspired to. But Rose is no flower to be stuck in a vase and admired. She wants to write her own destiny.
In an early conversation with Jack, Rose half-jokingly calls herself a "poor little rich girl," acknowledging that her new friend might have trouble believing that she has any problems at all. However, she lets him in on the secret: she’s freaking miserable. In fact, when she first met Jack, she was trying to get up the nerve to throw herself off the back of the boat -- that’s how desperate she was to escape her life. Okay, that sounds bad... but it also sounds a wee bit nebulous. What exactly are Rose’s problems? The drama in Titanic doesn’t stop, not even in its backstory. Rose’s father lost the family fortune and then died, leaving Rose and her mom with massive debts. As far as her mother is concerned, marrying Cal is the best way to solve that problem. Unfortunately, Cal’s personality ranges from "snob" to "sociopathic jackass." Even on his good days, Cal’s only interested in having Rose around as arm candy -- he doesn’t want her to be the thinking, feeling, dynamic person that she is. So, when the movie begins, Rose’s best-case scenario is a life of dull conversation and sitting around. No wonder she thinks that a deadly dip into the Atlantic sounds like a preferable option.
Jack taught Rose not just about love, but also about how to love life. This film is intended to teach people how to love life. It is why Rose falls in love with Jack, why Rose hates her fiancé, and why Jack becomes attracted to her. Rose is attracted to Jack not because he is handsome, but since he has vitality and youth. When Jack tells her about his life at the luxurious first-class dining table, you can sense Jack's passion for life and youthful self-confidence. However, what Rose could not stand was her own life -- her mother, fiancé, and responsibilities ‘trapped’ her. Jack’s appearance lights up Rose like a burning flame. Therefore, as an old woman, Rose says that “he saved my life”. The photos in Rose's room during her later years symbolized all the life events that Jack had hoped to experience with her. Throughout her life, she never forgot Jack. She always lived for him and realized what she had promised to endure for their sake.
When 17-year-old Rose arrives on the luxurious “ship of dreams” as a first-class passenger, it’s crystal clear why she’s embarking on the Titanic’s inaugural trip. Her beau Cal is enthralled by the ship’s features, including a Parisian café and Turkish baths, while her widowed mother, Ruth, has hit hard financial times. Both are invested in molding Rose into a woman who performs femininity, modesty, and virtue -- all characteristics they believe will bestow new fortune on Ruth and give Cal a partner who will bend to his every whim. Throughout the movie, Ruth and Cal direct tiny microaggressions toward Rose that are designed to open a festering wound that will eventually overtake and break her. For instance, while having lunch with Cal, Ruth, and a few other first-class passengers, Rose lights a cigarette, a simple vice to ease her nervousness. Ruth tells her that she doesn’t like it when she smokes, and Cal removes the cigarette from her hand and puts it out. Cal also orders meals for the both of them, regardless of what Rose actually wants to eat. “We’ll both have the lamb, rare, with a little mint sauce” is a minor line, but says so much about how Cal sees Rose. He doesn’t see Rose as a separate entity with her own desires and needs; she’s an extension of him. His taste buds are hers. His wants are hers. He has no consideration for who she is or aims to be, and that, in itself, shackles her to a predestined fate of unhappiness. When Rose makes a joke at dinner about Sigmund Freud, Cal’s friend refers to her as a “pistol.” Cal then says he needs to monitor what she reads, as if she’s a child instead of the woman he’s planning to marry. While these incidents seem disconnected and miniscule, they’re part of a bigger scheme to police Rose’s impulses, and turn her into a maiden worthy of marriage, even if that isn’t what she envisions for herself. While their aims are different, Cal and Ruth are intent on possessing Rose, as she beautifully explains later in the film. “It was the ship of dreams to everyone else,” she says. “To me [the Titanic] was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains.” Being chained to a man she doesn’t love is Rose’s -- and so many other women’s -- greatest nightmare come to fruition. Her mother’s destiny for her doesn’t align with her own vision for herself. While her mother sees her betrothal to Cal as a means of escaping their financial situation and stepping into riches, Rose sees it as a limitation, a means of curbing her freedom. “I saw my whole life as if I’d already lived it -- an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches -- always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter,” she says in a flashback scene. “I felt like I was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull me back, no-one who cared, or even noticed.” Slowly, Cal and Ruth are killing Rose; their unrelenting focus on making her into a woman who pleases them is taking an emotional or mental toll on her, but neither of them notices her distress.
How familiar is that feeling for women of that time and those of this time? So often, marriage is regarded as an accomplishment, particularly for women. In Rose, we see a woman who comes to understand that, and makes a different choice, regardless of the consequences. “Don’t do it” are the first words Jack utters to Rose as she stands at the flagpole, preparing to jump into churning waters that will surely kill her. Their ill-fated romance, which carries across two days, has been the standard for on-screen relationships primarily because it shows two partners who see each other. While Cal wants to possess Rose -- seeing as he always grabs her by the shoulders or the wrist, but never lovingly embraces her -- Jack offers her an escape from the expectations projected onto her. While they’re clearly not in the same socioeconomic class -- Jack is a third-class passenger on the ship -- their zest for life makes them equally yoked. Rose sees Jack’s artistic brilliance and Jack sees Rose as a full person with agency. While Cal buys Rose a 56-carat “heart of the ocean” necklace to express his love, Jack gives Rose to space to explore herself. When Jack paints Rose, he highlights how he sees her -- and how she strongly desires to see herself. In his portrait, she’s sexy, decisive, and completely in control of her own destiny. Rose knows that Cal’s gift “was only to reflect light back onto himself, to illuminate [his] greatness,” and rejects the gesture rather than being flattered by it while Jack’s gift is wholly unselfish and rooted in her need to discover herself. Jack draws Rose, makes loves to Rose, gives Rose the freedom to just be. They hawk spit into the sea, and Rose isn’t concerned with appearances—until her mother catches them. Rose quickly regresses back to the respectable woman that her mother expects her to be -- meek and voiceless.
When she’s free from Cal and Ruth’s prying eyes, she’s able to find her voice and herself. She’s not their possession; she belongs to herself. Freedom should be a bare minimum requirement for partnership, but often, women pour into others without an expectation of reciprocity. Who pours into us? Who gives us the space to grow and become who we are? Jack is that partner for Rose. While their romance is initially built to rebuke the traditions set by Cal and Ruth, Rose’s coming-of-age journey is the sharpest contrast to the “cult of womanhood” that white women were expected to perform in the 1800s and are still indoctrinated into now. When Ruth forbids Rose from seeing Jack for the duration of the trip, she rebukes her mother because she finally has a full understanding of the true motivation behind being paired with Cal. “Rose, this is not a game! Our situation is precarious. You know the money’s gone!” she says at her daughter. “Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. And that name is the only card we have to play.” Ruth sees partnership as a way out while Rose sees Cal as another shackle. Ruth even attempts to guilt Rose, saying that if her relationship with Cal isn’t a success, she’ll be forced to work as a seamstress. On the fateful night when the ship hits the iceberg, Ruth leaves Rose with a message that has carried the movie for twenty years and will continue for eternity. “We’re women,” she says. “Our choices are never easy.” Women are constantly navigating a unique puzzle that is both predicated on our marginalization and also reliant on our presence. When relationships fail, we’re blamed. When marriages fall apart, we’re blamed. When an engagement that was never right to begin with ends, we’re blamed. Finding the freedom to be ourselves is a constant battle. Twenty years after Titanic shook up the world, Jack drowned, and Rose was left on that plank to fend for herself and ensure her survival, women are still being forced to make tough choices. And through Rose, we’re still able to see who we can be when we’re freed from expectations and allowed to step into our womanhood. The ship’s sunk, but our journey with Rose will go on.
Physical Appearance[]
Rose’s fashion and choices of clothes are very underrated and almost not given an appreciation. She has a good eye for clothes and fabric that every time she wears them, she looks like a Greek goddess. Her effortless beauty is also her jewel -- the reason why she always stands out every time she goes to the hall for dinner or any meals.
Enough with her clothes. Let’s talk about Rose’s facial features and how she uses them as an advantage. No-one can deny that she is perfect from her toes to her face and even the strands of her hair. With warm porcelain skin, she can be fragile more than a glass. With her rosy cheeks, the roses might not be able to withstand her and because of her perfect plush lips, surely, Jack will be sleepless for nights.
Personality and Traits[]
Rose is at war with fulfilling her own needs and those of other people; even though she is going along with her mother’s scheme to marry her off to a wealthy man, Rose is deeply unhappy about it, and refuses to show Cal any affection or fake any emotions she does not feel. Her mother complains that Rose is doing small things that Ruth “loathes” to get back at her -- in reality, she is asserting her independence however she can (“Rose chose lavender... she knows I detest lavender”). Rose is a deep well of emotion. She never says a word about how she is feeling, even though she is bitter. Her own emotions are so intense they drive her to try to commit suicide. Rose never talks about her feelings in the moment, only the circumstances that are causing her frustrations, and only opens up about them 80+ years later; she admits she never told her later husband about Jack, because the heart is a deep ocean of secrets. Once the floodgates open, Rose asserts herself in a blunt inferior fashion (telling her mother to shut up, telling Cal she would rather be Jack’s whore than his wife, telling the steward that she is done being polite, and ordering him to take her down). She can be decisive and aware of the facts, telling Mr. Andrews there are not enough lifeboats, and pointing out over half the people on the ship are going to die to her mother. Yet, she makes a totally irrational decision in a crisis (“It doesn’t make any sense; that’s why I trust it”), which shows off her inferior rebellion.
She sees chances to act and leaps on them, and is only happy when she is allowed to engage bodily with the environment through dancing, posing for Jack, feeling the wind rushing beneath her wings on the bow of the ship, and becoming physical with him. Rose nearly jumps off the back of the ship. She thinks quickly to fool Cal about what she was doing there. She eagerly leaps into "a real party" downstairs, where she dances, performs a tough ballet move, and guzzles an entire pint of beer. Rose poses nude for Jack, excited at having a portrait of "my true self, not a doll." She quickly sleeps with him in the back of an automobile. Rose is excited about the thought of everything she and Jack can do once they reach the mainland; she wants it to be more than a dream -- and she makes it so, going on to do many other things (be an actress, a pilot, etc). She also abandons her old life without a second thought when she realizes her mother thinks she is dead. During the disaster, she’s observant of her environment, improvising with whatever she has to get Jack out of trouble (breaking down doors, using furniture and firemen axes when she cannot find keys, etc). She has an intellectual streak, which makes her a bit of an art snob (“It has truth but no logic”). When Jack questions her as to how she knew he is innocent of Cal’s charges, Rose replies, “I just know.” She instinctively knows she is meant to be with him, and plans to get off the boat with him. Rose’s foresight leads her to think about the number of passengers and the lifeboats, but she does not rely so heavily on it that she thinks through the consequences of her decisions (she underestimates the power Cal wields on the ship). Rose’s unwillingness to give Cal a chance to “open her heart” shows she senses something in him that she doesn’t like from the start. When giving her fake name to the list-maker, Rose shows a willingness to believe she can create her own future.
Rose has a tendency to dramatize things and wallow in her intense feelings without feeling like she can change anything about her negative situation, until Jack offers to rescue her. She continues to be this way into her old age, where after a full life, she admits that she is still pining for her first love -- and when she dies, she chooses to join him in the afterlife. She likens the beautiful, luxurious Titanic to a "slave ship" carrying her home in "chains". She complains about her life and the expectations others place on her and becomes convinced her only way out is through suicide. Rose finds small ways to assert her superior taste and intellect (“The difference between Cal’s taste in art and mine is I have some”). Her desperate need to be with Jack in an intense situation could be her moving to two disintegration and pursuing love at all costs. She hesitates to throw all caution to the wind, and act in a way that might be frowned on by those on board ship around her; she considers Jack a poor person yet does not want to say it or admit to her own classism, and is struggling to go against what others expect of her.
Life on Titanic[]
The gleaming superstructure of the majestic Titanic stood towering before the thousands of people in the swarming crowd. Beyond its white and shiny railing, its huge four buff-colored funnels stood like great pillars against the ever-blue sky, acting as symbols to represent the greatness of the steamer. The crewmen on the decks looked like tiny ants to the crowd below, dwarfed completely by the awesome scale of the luxury liner. A fancy white Renault followed by a silver-gray Daimler–Bene were currently navigating through the crowd, honking repeatedly so people would clear a path for them. When they finally came to a halt, the driver of the white Renault hurriedly got out and opened the door. A young, regal-looking Rose stepped out. She was dressed in a stunning white and purple dress. Her beautiful, curly red hair was pinned back in a low bun, and hidden completely underneath a splendid feather hat. Her emerald-green eyes studied the ship with cool appraisal. A man who looked to be in his early thirties climbed out behind her. He was her handsome, wealthy fiancé. The heir to the Hockley Steel Corporations in Philadelphia. Despite being extremely handsome and wealthy, Rose knew him to be extremely arrogant. "I don't see what all the fuss is about," Rose said coolly, unable to bear listening to everyone around her look at the ship in awe. "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauritania." she finished. Cal laughed. "You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about Titanic! It's over a hundred feet longer than the Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian café... and even Turkish baths." He turned to help her mother, out of the Renault. "Your daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth." Cal said. Ruth let out a small, refined laugh, one that Rose knew quite well. It meant she was displeased with her. Then she gazed up at the ship. "So this is the ship they say is unsinkable," she said. "It is unsinkable!" he said with pride. "God himself could not sink this sh–" "Sir!" said one of the White Star Line porters as he scurried over to them. "You'll have to check your baggage through the main terminal. It's around that way, sir." Cal merely reached into his pocket, and brought out a fat wad of bills, which he gave to the porter. "I put my faith in you, good sir. Now, kindly see my man," he gestured to his personal bodyguard, Spicer Lovejoy. The porter stared at the enormous tip he had been given before crying out, "Oh, yes, sir! My pleasure, sir! If I can do anything at all--" "Oh, yes," said Lovejoy, leading the poor porter around the car to show him all of their luggage. "All the trunks are in this car here, twelve from there," he pointed to the silver Daimler, "and the safe, to the parlor suite rooms B-52, 54, and 56." Cal checked his pocket watch. "Ladies, we'd better hurry," He led Ruth, Rose, and her personal maid, Trudy Bolt, gangplank through the jostling crowd. Rose couldn't help noticing a well-dressed young man was cranking the handle of a new wooden "cinematography" camera that was mounted upon a tripod. She recognized him to be Daniel Marvin, the son of the man who had founded the Biograph Film Studio. He was filming his wife, Mary, in front of the Titanic. She stood very stiffly, and her smile was very self-conscious. "Look up at the ship, darling," Rose heard Daniel call out to his wife. "That's it! You're amazed! You can't believe how big it is! Like a mountain! That's great!" Rose couldn't help but wonder if Daniel Marvin was blinded by his love for his wife to realize that she did not have a single acting fiber in her body, considering the horrible Clara Bow pantomime she was currently doing with her hands raised. Rose frowned as she paused momentarily to watch them. Being a moving film actress had once been one of her own dreams, until she remembered her place in high society. Girls like her didn't become moving film actresses. They were to marry at a young age to wealthy and successful men, and then spend the rest of their lives providing their husbands with sons to take over their businesses when they were older. In her opinion, it was fate worse than death. Rose was brought out of her daze when Cal forcefully grabbed her arm, and dragged her toward the gangplank. As he did, two yelling, excited steerage boys, shoved past him as they ran toward the gangplank. He was bumped again a moment later by a man who looked as though he was their father. "Steady!" he yelled, affronted by the small collisions. "Sorry, squire." the man said before running after his children. "Steerage swine." Cal scoffed as he brushed himself off. "Apparently missed their annual baths." Ruth sneered at the small family. "Honestly, Mr. Hockley. If you were not forever booking everything at the last minute, we could have gone through the terminal rather than running along the dock with the squalid immigrant families." she complained. "All part of my charm, Ruth." he said with a haughty chuckle. "And at any rate, it was your darling daughter's beauty rituals that detained us." "You told me to change." Rose reminded him, using all her willpower to keep her tone tactful. "Well, I couldn't let you wear black on a sailing day, Sweetpea. It's bad luck." "I felt like black." She replied curtly. Cal chuckled again. "Here, I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in the most luxurious suites... and you act as though you're going to your execution." Rose just smiled politely to him before glancing upwards. The enormous hull of the Titanic seemed to loom over her small being like a great iron wall. Cal motioned them forward, his arm possessively around hers. Rose felt a horrible sense of overwhelming dread wash over her as they went up the gangway to the doors on D-deck. Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams to the rest of the world, but to Rose, it was the farthest thing from it. This ship was acting as a slave ship to her. It would take her back to America bound and chained to Caledon Hockley. The moment they docked in New York, Cal and her mother would have her on the first train back to Philadelphia for the Engagement Gala, and then they would be married within the next week. To the world around her, Rose was everything a well brought up girl should be: sophisticated, poised, well-mannered... but on the inside, however, she was screaming at the top of her lungs to be freed from the cocoon of her sheltered, limited world... In the first-class Millionaire Suite, Cal was being escorted around his cabin by one of the room-service stewards. "...and this is your private promenade deck, sir," said the steward, bringing the tour of the rooms to a close as Cal breezed past him without a second glance to look out one of the windows. "Will you be requiring anything?" He shook his head and waved the steward away, sipping at his glass of champagne. What could he possibly require? He had a beautiful fiancé, and was a first-class passenger on board the grandest ship to ever be made by all mankind. Not to mention the richest, at least for the next few hours until John Jacob Astor boarded with his wife Madeline later that day at Cherbourg. He couldn't help but smirk slightly. He felt ever so smug. He intended to spend every moment this afternoon boasting to the other first-class men on being the wealthiest man aboard later on over cigars and a large brandy once lunch was over.
Rose, on the other hand, was in the Sitting Room. With the assistance of Trudy and another maid, she was sorting through the new paintings she had purchased while in France. One of the few, scarce things she was permitted to be able to enjoy as a young, aristocratic young woman, was art. Art was the only thing Rose could use amongst not only her society, but also her mother and Cal, to escape from her confined lifestyle from time-to-time. "This one?" Trudy asked her, holding up one of the Cubism paintings. "No... it had a lot of faces on it..." Rose sifted through the packaging they had all been stored in and selected another painting. "This is the one." "Would you like all of them out, miss?" Trudy asked. "Yes," she replied. "We need a little color in this room." Lovejoy, who had been ordering the stewards where to put the different pieces of luggage, interrupted them when he saw another one of the stewards enter with a large trunk. "Put it in there," he directed, pointing down the hall to the bedroom. "In the wardrobe." "God," Cal said, coming back in from their private deck, "not those finger painting again. They certainly were a waste of money." Rose didn't give him the honor of seeing her anger. Instead, she said to Trudy as she gave her the Cubism painting, "The difference between Cal's taste in art and mine is that I have some. They're fascinating... like being inside a dream or something. There's truth but no logic." "What's the artist's name?" Trudy asked her. "Something Picasso..." Rose replied uncertainly as she selected a painting an artist known as Degas had made of a ballerina. "Something Picasso," Cal sneered, drinking more of his champagne. "He won't amount to a thing. He won't, trust me," he called after her as she and Trudy walked to her bedroom with the painting of the dancer. Then he added quietly so only Lovejoy would hear him, "At least they were cheap." Another steward came in, wheeling inside Cal's private safe. "Put that in the wardrobe." Lovejoy instructed. Rose looked around the bedroom, searching for the perfect place to display the painting. Her eyes came to rest upon the vanity. She gently set it down as Trudy started to unpack her clothes. "It all smells so brand new," she exclaimed, "like they built it just for us. I mean... just think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I'll be the first!" Rose chuckled slightly. Trudy was the only person she could actually consider her friend. She had always put her friendship with her mistress first, and her duties as her personal attendant second, and so long as she pretended to do vice versa whenever Cal or her mother was around, Rose would always be a good and caring friend to her, just as how Trudy was with her. "And tonight," a new voice interjected. "When I crawl between the sheets, I'll still be the first." Rose and Trudy turned around. Cal was standing in the doorway, studying Rose with lust in his gaze. Trudy blushed at the innuendo in his words. "Excuse me, miss," she said, giving a short curtsy before leaving the room. Cal smirked and shut the door behind her. Rose could only blush as she turned toward the mirror, unable to look him in the eye. "The first and only," he said silkily, walking up to embrace her from behind. If it had been meant to show affection, Rose didn't feel it. She just felt like another possession to him. She was, after all, going to be his trophy wife. "Forever," he whispered in her ear. Rose wanted nothing more than to jerk away from him. The idea of him touching her... of him being inside her... the thought repulsed her. But she didn't let him see her discomfort. Instead, she simply gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She knew what he was like when he was angry, after all... It was late in the afternoon when the Titanic docked in Cherbourg later that day to collect more passengers. Rose and her mother were just going down for dinner when they saw the new additions to first-class come aboard. Rose almost immediately recognized the Astor's and Mr. Guggenheim with his mistress, but she didn't recognize the next woman. Her mother must have, though, because she noticed that her entire body became rigid, and her smile became even more fake. A broad-shouldered woman who appeared to be in about her mid-forties, dressed in a black fur coat and an enormous feathered hat, came shuffling through the door, and, to Rose's surprise, she was carrying her own luggage. A porter came running in after her, mumbling his apologies for not collecting her bags once brought aboard. "Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, sonny," said the woman in a Southern accent, setting down her bags. "Here," she said, giving him one of them. "You think you can manage?" She didn't wait for a reply. She just walked on, the porter struggling to catch up with her again while still keeping hold of her luggage. The woman smiled a genuine, friendly smile to her and Ruth as she passed. It wasn't a smile Rose was used to seeing amongst her society. "Mother," Rose said in a quiet voice once the woman was out of earshot. "Who was that, exactly?" Ruth wrinkled her nose in refined disgust. "That," her mother said distastefully, "...was Mrs. Margaret Brown, though she usually insists on being called Molly." Rose glanced back in the direction she saw Molly Brown go. "She's appears to be rather... interesting..." Rose said carefully, making sure not to let too much of her wonder and admiration of the guts Molly had shown into her voice. Her mother nodded snippily, thinking Rose meant that her behavior was inappropriate for a lady in first-class. "Oh, yes, that's because she's one of the 'new money' people in society," Ruth explained. "Her husband apparently struck gold out west somewhere. She isn't like those of us that have always had money. She still has bad habits from being born poor." Rose nodded, hiding her disappointment. Her mother would surely do everything in her power to keep her away from people like Molly Brown. Rose thought for sure she could have made friends with her...