Titanic scaled practical engineering to ocean‑liner proportions. Production built a near full‑length exterior of the ship at Baja Studios with sections capable of tilting to simulate the final plunge; gimbals and ballast tanks let the deck rise safely while stunt teams slid into padded barriers. Miniatures—some over 40 feet long—handled breakage beats because scaled water behaves differently; to fix “small water,” effects crews shot at very high frame rates and seeded tanks with additives to thicken flow. Cameron’s camera team pioneered the “Spydercam” to fly over the ship with stabilized heads, while VFX stitched crowds with motion‑captured extras layered over live plates. For icy breath, actors performed on refrigerated sets when possible; elsewhere, digital breath plumes were composited by tracking head motion and light sources. Historical fidelity extended to dishware and rivet patterns sourced from Harland & Wolff archives, but the production also staged controlled anachronisms, like Jack’s sketchbook—drawn by Cameron himself—to telegraph character interiority. Safety engineering was relentless: sinking‑set rehearsals mapped swim paths, and wardrobe developed neoprene‑lined period costumes for cold‑water days. James Horner’s score intertwined uilleann pipes with synth pads to bridge nostalgia and modern melodrama. The result balanced obsession with logistics: physical tilt, real water, and heavy sets give the catastrophe weight, while digital work remains an extender rather than a crutch. That’s why the ship’s groans still feel like a living thing failing under stress.https://www.google.com/search?q=site%3Aimpawards.com%20%22Titanic%20%281997%29%22%20poster&tbm=isch
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