"Cut! Take a twenty-minute break!"
Sitting in front of the camera feed monitor, Dunn had a serious expression.
Kate was sweating anxiously—she had already messed up seven times in a row! She hurried over, her voice tight with nerves. "Dunn, did I do something wrong?"
Dunn gave her a reassuring smile. "Kate, you did great. It's my problem. Go freshen up your makeup."
The film's main producers, assistant directors, and key crew members quickly gathered. Grant asked, "Dunn, is there an issue?"
Dunn pointed at the footage on the monitor, shaking his head repeatedly. "This isn't the effect I want. I can't quite put it into words, but this shot isn't beautiful enough!"
This particular shot was the first major close-up of the Titanic in the film, complemented by the heroine, Rose, standing at the bow of the ship. She wore a rose-colored hat and a pristine white dress with red trim, perfectly embodying the elegance and beauty of a young aristocratic lady from a century ago.
But... something about it felt off.
Dunn had watched *Titanic* countless times, but his brain wasn't a computer. He could recall the main plot, but many of the finer details eluded him.
"But... it already looks great," one of the assistant directors hesitated, clearly unsure of Dunn's concerns.
"James, what do you think?"
Dunn sighed. If he really couldn't figure it out, he would have to let it go. But this was a crucial opening shot—brief yet iconic, meant to leave a lasting impact. He wasn't ready to compromise.
James Cameron had been deep in thought, silent for a long while. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with realization. "The hat! It's the hat!"
Dunn was momentarily stunned before excitement spread across his face. "That's it! The hat! Kate's hat is too restrictive—take it off. Her golden-brown hair is the real artistic beauty!"
He had finally pinpointed what was wrong. In the original film, Kate Winslet hadn't worn that lovely but completely out-of-place hat.
Dunn had inherited Cameron's directing instincts. He was confident that, even if they reshot the scene dozens more times, he would have eventually figured it out. But sometimes, being too deep in the process makes things unclear—an outsider's perspective is sharper. Since Cameron wasn't directing this time, he caught the issue much sooner, saving them valuable time and money.
However, the moment Dunn and Cameron agreed on this change, they were met with strong opposition from head costume designer Deborah Scott.
"Absolutely not! A noblewoman from a hundred years ago would *never* go out without a hat! Removing it would be incredibly improper and disgraceful!"
Dunn chuckled. "But Rose is a rebellious girl. If she weren't, she wouldn't be falling for a penniless drifter, right?"
"No! Her rebellion is about breaking free from social oppression, not about disregarding etiquette. Wearing or not wearing a hat has nothing to do with her personality."
Deborah Scott was a respected costume designer whose work had added incredible depth to the film. She was one of the unsung heroes behind the scenes.
Dunn didn't want to argue with her. Instead, he grinned and turned to Cameron. "James, this one's all yours!"
Cameron shrugged, then launched into a heated debate with Deborah.
...
Ten minutes later, Dunn tossed Kate's hat into the trash.
This time, the scene was shot perfectly.
Around the set, the cast and crew exchanged glances—more than surprised, they were puzzled.
What was going on with the producer and the director?
Back in Los Angeles, the two had clashed repeatedly, getting into heated arguments that made even uninvolved people nervous.
But ever since arriving in Rosarito, it was like they had reached an unspoken agreement, working together like the closest of friends—seamless, effortless.
Just recently, Dunn had insisted on filming a scene where Leonardo DiCaprio's character smokes, facing strong opposition from many crew members.
With such a massive budget, *Titanic* was bound to be rated PG or PG-13. Since countless children around the world would be watching, showing the protagonist smoking to look cool could set a bad example.
But Dunn argued that a hundred years ago, a working-class guy with a cigarette in his mouth was the norm—it was historically accurate.
Cameron had fully supported this idea, even calling it a "stroke of genius that only the greatest directors would come up with."
Now, with Rose's hat, Cameron and Dunn had once again teamed up, using their combined authority as director and producer to push through the change.
And when the final footage rolled, even the skeptics had to admit—it was breathtaking.
...
Filming was nonlinear, and the next scene was also an exterior shot on the Titanic. It was the moment when Jack introduced the aristocratic Rose to his world, showing her the freedom of life on the lower decks.
And once again, director Dunn Walker stunned the entire crew with a bold, unconventional idea—
"Leo, spit over the railing! Yeah, it's fun! Now teach Kate how to do it, and then spit together. It's a little secret moment that brings you two closer."
The moment he finished speaking, the entire set was dead silent.
Spitting?
Was he joking?
That kind of "disgusting" behavior wasn't something a noblewoman like Rose would ever do! Even for a streetwise drifter like Jack, it was completely out of character.
This was ridiculous!
"Dunn, this idea is absurd! It'll ruin the film's aesthetic!" Producer Rae Sanchini, usually mild-mannered, was unusually stern.
Several assistant directors chimed in, insisting the scene be cut. The idea of showing characters spitting on the big screen was outright vulgar.
Grant Hill spoke gravely. "Dunn, you can't do this! *Titanic* is a story about pure, beautiful love—not some rowdy street performance!"
Dunn's expression darkened. He glanced at Leonardo and Kate, whose faces looked even worse.
"You two don't want to do it either?"
Leo was the first to speak. "No, Dunn. I don't get your vision here, but honestly... this is even more controversial than the smoking scene."
Kate, barely in her twenties, was even more reluctant. "Dunn, I just..."
"Forget it, I get it." Dunn sighed, looking around at the crowd. "So, you all disagree?"
Everyone nodded in unison.
Dunn chuckled bitterly.
So, *this* was what Cameron had gone through when making *Titanic*.
This scene... it was one of the most iconic moments in movie history. Dunn remembered it vividly.
"James, what do you think?"
With no other choice, Dunn turned to Cameron.
Cameron looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "Dunn... as much as I hate to admit it, you're a f***ing genius. An absolute, unparalleled genius!"
He was so excited he even swore.
Dunn's eyes lit up. "So, you support me?"
Cameron nodded firmly. "One hundred percent! Dunn, your imagination and creative vision are astonishing! I have no doubt—you'll be a world-class director one day!"
Grant was dumbfounded. "James, you're serious?"
Cameron's expression was resolute. "Grant, you need to think bigger. Imagine the impact this scene will have."
"It'll be torn apart by the media and critics," Grant said bitterly.
Cameron shook his head. "No. The better word would be..."
"It'll be groundbreaking," Dunn interjected, exuding confidence.
...
Inside the *Titanic's* dining hall, the cast and crew gathered for a hearty lunch.
Grant Hill, breaking tradition, pulled out a bottle of red wine and poured glasses for Dunn and Cameron.
"Grant, we're still shooting this afternoon," Dunn said, smirking.
"Just one glass," Grant said formally. "To both of you."
He raised his glass, his tone serious. "One of you is a mad genius. The other is a genius madman. Honestly? I wasn't too sure about this project before. But now... I believe in it. You two are *Titanic's* greatest hope."
Cameron clinked glasses with Dunn. "You're doing amazing, kid."
Dunn smiled humbly, raising his glass. "So are you, James. Let's keep pushing forward and show the world a *Titanic* like never before!"
"I believe this will be a masterpiece!"
Just then, agonized screams erupted from the dining hall.
Dunn turned sharply—two crew members had collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
"Someone's been poisoned!"