"I am the king of the world!"
When "Jack" stood at the bow of the ship, shouting into the vast ocean, everyone at the premiere felt that the line was completely justified. They wholeheartedly cheered for Jack and Rose's love story, without a hint of disdain for his humble origins.
Among the audience, besides celebrities and special guests, were many well-known film critics—including Kenneth Turan from the *Los Angeles Times*.
Hearing that line, Turan's reaction was different from that of the general audience. His gaze locked onto a figure in the front row—Dunn Walker.
Turan pondered deeply. Like Jack, Dunn had once been an unknown figure, but a twist of fate had propelled him into the upper echelons of society.
Perhaps Jack's bold declaration in the film mirrored Dunn's real-life ambitions.
Class differences were the insurmountable chasm between Jack and Rose, just as Dunn's youth seemed like an insurmountable obstacle in his journey to direct a major blockbuster.
At that moment, Kenneth Turan had a sudden realization—Dunn Walker might just be the perfect director for *Titanic*. Only he could truly guide the leads in portraying a love story that defied societal expectations and carried the weight of tragic destiny.
"Vintage aesthetics, excellent pacing, solid acting—this is a great movie!"
Not long after the film began, Turan had already formed a strong positive impression.
As the story unfolded, tension and conflict pulled the audience deeper into its grasp. The scene where Jack and Rose returned to the lower decks, dancing freely and laughing without restraint, made many in the audience smile. And when Jack sketched Rose, the atmosphere was so intense that many people forgot to breathe.
Kate Winslet's beauty left the men in awe and the women mesmerized.
With its breathtaking visuals and deeply moving romance, *Titanic* embodied the essence of a true love story.
"I've seen this so many times, but Kate, I have to say—you look stunning."
Dunn leaned in and whispered in Kate Winslet's ear.
It was her first time delivering such a daring performance on the big screen, and despite her confidence, she felt a bit shy. She pursed her lips, glancing sideways at him.
"Just watch the movie."
Dunn sighed dramatically. "Do you have any idea how many shades of paint I experimented with just to make sure your body looked artistically perfect?"
Kate rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Alright, Dunn, thanks for making me look good."
He grinned mischievously. "How about coming over to my place tonight?"
She shot him a sharp glare. "So *that's* your real agenda, huh?"
Dunn shrugged. "You know I'm still single."
Kate scoffed. "Then go find a girlfriend! Why are you bothering me?"
Dunn smirked. "Alright, alright, let's just watch the movie."
On-screen, Jack and Rose's love story continued to build toward its peak—each glance, each smile carrying an undeniable spark.
And then, tragedy struck.
The iceberg. The sinking. The final, heartbreaking separation.
A heavy silence settled over the theater.
Everyone was utterly absorbed, trembling with sorrow.
Must all beautiful love stories end in tragedy? Romeo and Juliet. Now Jack and Rose. Were they all doomed by fate?
Tears streamed down faces.
Of course, seasoned critics and industry professionals weren't just moved by the story—they were awestruck by the film's groundbreaking visual effects.
In an era when CGI was still developing, seeing the *Titanic* split apart in the Atlantic was jaw-dropping for every industry expert in the room.
"How did they *do* this?"
"My god, now I understand why this movie had such a massive budget!"
"This film… it might actually…"
What was the last film to deliver such a revolutionary cinematic experience?
*Star Wars* (1977).
And now, *Titanic* was poised to follow that same path—shaking Hollywood and captivating the world.
The special effects were *realistic, breathtaking, unparalleled*.
Never mind if the story was predictable—those final twenty minutes alone were enough to make this film a global phenomenon.
Many critics and insiders suddenly recalled Dunn Walker's bold statements before the film's release.
Could it be…?
Meanwhile, the general audience was on a completely different emotional plane.
As Jack and Rose exchanged their final words, sobs filled the theater.
Dunn even noticed Kate wiping away tears.
He chuckled.
Kate huffed. "Dunn, I *almost* died filming that scene! I *almost died*! Am I not even allowed to cry?"
Dunn grinned. "Of course you can. Just don't smudge your makeup—you still have to go on stage for the curtain call."
"I *know*!"
It was Kate's first time watching the final cut, and soon, her attention was drawn back to the screen.
The lifeboats arrived. Rose was rescued. The Heart of the Ocean remained a haunting memory.
And then—
"Directed by Dunn Walker."
That frame caught every critic and industry professional off guard.
Wait, what?
Wasn't *Titanic* James Cameron's film? Wasn't Dunn Walker just a stand-in director? So what *was* Cameron's role here?
The next credit answered that question.
"Produced by James Cameron."
Cameron had handled the film's editing, so Dunn immediately understood the message he was sending.
All of Hollywood had assumed that *Titanic* was Cameron's film and that Dunn was merely a young assistant carrying out his vision. After all, an eighteen-year-old—even a prodigy—couldn't *possibly* direct a blockbuster on his own, right?
But Cameron *knew* the truth.
Dunn wasn't some figurehead. The smooth production of *Titanic* was due to his planning, and the filming process had been entirely in his hands.
James Cameron was an honorable man. He craved success and recognition, but not at the expense of stealing credit from others.
By placing Dunn's name front and center with a bold "Directed by Dunn Walker," Cameron had just delivered a powerful rebuttal to all the doubters.
As Celine Dion's soulful voice faded, the theater lights came back on.
And then—
Thunderous applause.
The entire audience, as if coordinated, rose to their feet in unison. Their eyes, filled with admiration and respect, turned to the *Titanic* cast and crew in the front row.
The clapping was deafening. Theatre in Los Angeles *erupted*.
Without a doubt—this was a *perfect* blockbuster.
Bill Mechanic felt the sheer intensity of the applause. His eyes, usually clouded with caution, now shone with excitement.
As he watched the *Titanic* team step forward to take their bow, his gaze lingered on Dunn Walker.
For the first time, he had a gut feeling—this kid was *different*.
"Maybe… maybe he *really* can make history."
Bill's heart pounded, filled with the same overwhelming energy as the standing ovation—thunderous, electrifying, *unstoppable*.
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