Everything was ready. The oil tanker Pendleton finally glided into view.
Due to various setbacks, James Cameron hadn't been able to finish shooting Titanic as planned. But now, the Pendleton tanker had become the vessel carrying all his hopes.
On May 25th, the curtains officially rose!
Lately, Pearl Harbor had been making a lot of noise. From the main cast to the behind-the-scenes crew, practically everyone involved had become a promotional tool. Disney's production team was dead-set on using this film to shake off the slump the studio had been facing in the movie market.
The premiere of Pearl Harbor was a star-studded affair, packed with big names. Disney's connections were on full display. Thanks to their slick marketing, tons of well-known critics eagerly showed up, itching to get a first look.
By comparison, The Unsinkable kept things way quieter.
Throughout the entire promotional run, The Unsinkable had been totally overshadowed by Pearl Harbor.
That wasn't surprising, though. Without Dunn leaning on his personal charisma to hype The Unsinkable, Universal Pictures' distribution muscle alone couldn't hold a candle to Disney's.
Still, it wasn't a complete bust.
At least at the preview screenings, eager fans were still lining up outside theaters in droves.
It's just that, compared to the glitz and glamour over there, the premiere here felt a little… underwhelming.
"Are you sure this is fine? Even the mayor went to their side," James Cameron said in the lounge, his face darkening after a phone call. The cheerful glow he'd had earlier was now tinged with worry.
Dunn grinned. "What's there to worry about? You don't seriously think Michael Bay's got anything on you, do you?"
Cameron shook his head with a sigh. "If this were ten, twenty years ago, I wouldn't bat an eye. But times have changed fast. Movie marketing matters more than ever now."
Dunn shrugged casually. "Sure, marketing's getting bigger, but only if it's the right kind of marketing! Pearl Harbor keeps comparing itself to Titanic at every turn—that's a one-way ticket to disaster."
Cameron glanced at the time and stood up. "Let's hope so."
Dunn flashed a confident smile. "One big ship gave us a miracle together, James. This time, with this second ship, we're still gonna make history!"
Cameron turned back, chuckling. "Dunn, you're always so upbeat and sunny. Come on, it's almost time. Let's go greet the guests."
…
With Liv Tyler by his side, Dunn stepped onto the red carpet.
She was the leading lady of The Unsinkable, and tonight, she was dressed to dazzle. Her blue spaghetti-strap gown had a plunging V-neck that dipped all the way to her navel, leaving little to the imagination. She was clearly going all out to steal the spotlight.
A young assistant scurried over, whispering in Dunn's ear, "The reporters are set. All pre-approved questions—three in total."
Dunn nodded with a smile, then linked arms with Liv Tyler and started down the carpet.
In an instant, camera flashes lit up the night like it was daytime. Liv Tyler transformed—graceful, poised, waving gently to the reporters and fans lining both sides.
She just… walked way too slow!
Dunn hated doing red carpets with actresses for exactly this reason.
But The Unsinkable was already behind in the promo game, so this time, he had to play along with the team's plan and make a splashy entrance.
Finally reaching the end of the carpet, Dunn grinned and zeroed in on a reporter from the Los Angeles Times.
"Mr. Walker, hi! Are you confident about The Unsinkable's box office? This is your second collaboration with Director Cameron—do you think you'll top Titanic's record together?"
Dunn didn't miss a beat. "Box office numbers are the studio's thing. What fans care about is the quality of the movie. I can't predict ticket sales, but I can promise fans this: The Unsinkable is every bit as good as Titanic."
"Everyone knows Pearl Harbor's premiere is happening tonight at the Theatre too. They're saying it could break Titanic's box office record—is that true?"
Dunn laughed. "I don't like commenting on other people's films. Pearl Harbor's been measuring itself against my movie Titanic all through their campaign, acting like… they're gonna outdo my past wins. Everyone's got their own take, so I won't say much. But Titanic was one big ship. Today, The Unsinkable is another. While they're chasing that first ship, our second one sets sail tonight."
"One last question. Their premiere seems a lot flashier than this one. What do you think about that?"
Dunn answered calmly, "Movies are Hollywood's gift to fans worldwide, not just a show for a handful of VIPs. As the producer of The Unsinkable, I've been working with Director Cameron to put our best foot forward for the audience—that's what matters most."
…
"And now, let's welcome a crew member from that fateful sea disaster, the great rescue hero, Mr. Richard Livesey!"
The screening room erupted in applause.
An eighty-something-year-old man slowly stood, leaning on a staff member for support as he shuffled to the front.
Down in the audience, Dunn yawned, bored out of his mind.
They'd just trotted out a dozen survivors from that old maritime disaster—all in their eighties now—for this promotional stunt. Deep down, Dunn didn't like it one bit.
But Universal seemed to love it. During the campaign, they'd kept parading these elderly folks out, playing the emotional card hard.
"I can't shake the feeling that Hollywood's way of handling old people… lacks respect," Dunn muttered under his breath to James Cameron.
Cameron shot him an odd look. "Doesn't this help your bottom line? Maybe… they enjoy soaking up the applause."
Dunn smirked. "Circus monkeys get applause too."
Cameron frowned. "Dunn, that's a terrible analogy!"
"I know, I know. I just mean… if this movie doesn't start soon, I'm gonna fall asleep. This whole ceremony's too drawn-out and complicated," Dunn said with a sigh.
Charlize Theron, sitting on his other side, stifled a laugh. "Oh, come on, Dunn. I think you're just deflecting. You're not annoyed about these old folks—you're stressing over Pearl Harbor."
Dunn blinked, then chuckled. "Charlize, your psychology game's on point. Been taking lessons from Nat?"
Charlize bit her lip and mumbled, "Miss Portman barely even talks to me!"
Dunn almost burst out laughing.
Harvard wasn't out for summer yet, but George Lucas had recently called back the cast for reshoots on Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones. Natalie didn't have a big part, but she'd still been dragged in for a week of filming.
It was mostly because Dunn's Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace had done so well that Lucas was feeling the heat. He'd been obsessing over perfection in post-production ever since.
At this rate, Episode II's production timeline was looking at over 25 months.
Lately, Natalie had been getting along great with Rose Byrne, but she'd been a little chilly with Penélope Cruz and Charlize Theron.
Dunn leaned in and whispered, "It's mostly 'cause your figure's too perfect—curvy, tall, stunning. She's feeling the pressure."
Charlize's lips curled into a small smile. "So… you like me?"
"Of course. I like your body," Dunn said bluntly.
Charlize's eyes lit up with hope. "Just… my body?"
Dunn kept his face neutral and pointed ahead. "Alright, ceremony's over. Time for the movie!"
Charlize's eyes dimmed instantly.
The lights in the screening room faded, and the big screen went pitch black.
The whole place felt like it had plunged into an endless night—couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
Then, a faint glimmer appeared on the screen, cutting through the vast darkness from a corner of the frame.
The light grew stronger, brighter.
Amid a swelling, majestic score, it formed the Dunn Films logo.
The movie was starting!