The Post-Production of *Titanic* Went Smoothly
There were three reasons for this:
1. James Cameron and Dunn had a clear division of labor—Cameron focused on visual effects and editing, while Dunn handled voiceovers, design, and the soundtrack.
2. The visual effects company, Digital Domain, was Cameron's own company. For the past few years, its sole project had been *Titanic*. With everything in place and Cameron overseeing the process personally, things progressed in an orderly fashion.
3. At this point, the skepticism from the media was growing louder. It seemed like everyone had already decided that *Titanic* would be a massive financial failure, and they were especially critical of director Dunn.
Despite his young age, Dunn had established authority and respect during the three months of production. Almost everyone in the crew was willing to stand by him, dedicating their best efforts to prove that he was the real deal—not some lucky rich kid riding on privilege, but a genuinely talented director.
However, at this moment, Dunn Walker and *Titanic* were at the center of a storm in the U.S. media. No matter how many PR efforts the crew and Fox Studios made, they couldn't stop the relentless criticism.
It wasn't until March, when Hollywood entered Oscar season, that the heat around *Titanic* finally started to die down.
Anthony Minghella's *The English Patient* became the biggest winner at the Academy Awards, sweeping seven trophies and basking in the spotlight.
Cameron, reading the media's glowing praise for *The English Patient*, sighed deeply and set down his newspaper.
Dunn chuckled. "What? Jealous?"
Cameron shot him a glare. "Hmph! You're not planning to run your mouth in front of the media again, are you?"
"Of course not! Haha…"
Dunn scratched his head, looking a little sheepish. Cameron had hit the nail on the head—he really did want to do another media interview and boldly declare that *Titanic* would sweep next year's Oscars, stirring up another media frenzy.
But… this kind of publicity stunt had already made Fox Studios and the production team anxious enough. They had to keep doing damage control and deny rumors.
They were genuinely afraid Dunn would ruin his reputation.
After all, this was 1997. Hollywood wasn't yet accustomed to the kind of shameless publicity stunts that would become common in later years.
Since everyone was against it, Dunn decided not to push it. Besides, in just over two months, the film would be released. No matter how broke Fox Studios claimed to be, they'd have to cough up at least a few million for marketing, right?
Cameron asked, "Are you done with your side of the work?"
"Almost! By noon tomorrow at the latest!" Dunn was confident. "Celine Dion's song is going to move all of America—no, the entire world! *My Heart Will Go On* will be heard in every corner of the planet!"
Cameron appreciated Dunn's unshakable optimism. "In that case, I'm confident we can wrap up *Titanic*'s post-production by the end of this week!"
And this time, Cameron kept his word.
Four days later, *Titanic* was officially completed.
At that exact moment, Fox Studios' executive Bill Mechanic seemed to suddenly have a moment of "clarity"—and panic.
His eyes widened, as if he had just seen a ghost in broad daylight.
He couldn't believe what he had done.
Over the past few months, he had made a huge mistake—entrusting a massive, high-budget film like *Titanic* to an eighteen-year-old kid!
Bill Mechanic couldn't wrap his head around it. Why had he made such a ridiculous decision? What was he thinking?!
"Grant, be honest with me. How is the movie?" Mechanic was visibly nervous—he hadn't slept well for two nights.
Grant, full of admiration, simply said, "Unparalleled."
"Unparalleled?" Mechanic raised an eyebrow, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. He refused to believe that an eighteen-year-old could make a good film.
Grant could sense his doubt. *This old man isn't regretting it now, is he? It's a little too late for that. The movie's done, and in a month and a half, it'll hit theaters!*
"Bill, no matter what, the film is complete. If we want good box office results, we need to go all-in on marketing."
Grant subtly reminded him: *Your entire career is now tied to *Titanic*. If it fails, you're done. So instead of second-guessing, go all in—win big, or lose everything. Either way, what's left to lose?*
Bill Mechanic understood the message. After a long silence, his expression turned grim. "That kid… he said the box office would hit at least 1.8 billion?"
Grant chuckled. "Yes. Dunn has never lacked confidence."
Mechanic scoffed, "Forget 1.8 billion—if we even hit 800 million, I'd be satisfied!"
Grant nodded. "But right now, what we need is support, not doubt. We're all on the same boat now, aren't we?"
"What does Jamie think?"
"He said the same thing—'unparalleled.'"
"Hmm?"
For the first time, a glimmer of surprise flashed in Mechanic's weary eyes.
He had known James Cameron for years. That stubborn madman never held back criticism, even for widely recognized classics. When had he ever used such high praise?
Could it be that this film…
Mechanic felt his mind struggling to keep up. "Schedule an internal screening for tomorrow morning. I'll invite some industry folks."
Grant grinned. He knew Mechanic had made his choice—he was going to back *Titanic* with everything he had.
That was all that mattered. With the top exec at Fox fully onboard, *Titanic* would be treated like royalty leading up to its release.
After Grant left, Bill Mechanic picked up his phone.
"Prepare 50 million in funding immediately—we're launching a full-scale marketing campaign for *Titanic*!
"I don't care what issues you have—I need that money! Fifty million, not a penny less!
"Fox Studios will be unified in its messaging—we're giving *Titanic* our full support! I don't want to hear a single dissenting opinion!
"Jamie needs to cut a two-minute highlight reel immediately. Get it on Fox, NBC, ABC—every major network!
"I said no excuses! I don't care if we're short on funds—Fox Studios will survive this!
"Cancel all unnecessary commercials. Our only priority is *Titanic*! I don't care how you do it—I just want one outcome: every single kid in America must know that in May, an *unparalleled* movie is coming to theaters—*Titanic*!"
---
Inside Fox Studios, a tense atmosphere settled in.
Bill Mechanic's sudden, almost maniacal decisions left everyone in shock. No one dared to speak against him.
The boss had gone off the deep end—now was not the time to challenge him.
Tom Rothman, however, knew exactly why Mechanic was acting this way.
It was his last-ditch effort to save his position at Fox by betting everything on *Titanic*.
But Rothman wasn't worried—in fact, he was looking forward to it.
*What could an eighteen-year-old kid possibly achieve?*
The higher the rise, the harder the fall.
Rothman smirked, already picturing Mechanic's disgraceful exit—and the day he, Rothman, would take full control of Fox Studios.
As for tomorrow's internal screening, he hadn't planned on attending.
But watching Mechanic embarrass himself?
Now *that* could be entertaining.
"Dunn Walker?"
A mocking smile curled on Rothman's lips.
*A loudmouth, no matter how talented, won't last long in Hollywood.*
Bill Mechanic… was getting old.