Free Ride the Titanic! by Paul Lally Page A

eyes widen. ‘You in the business?’
    ‘In a way, yes.’
    ‘Film?’
    ‘Entertainment. Rides. Theme parks. That sort of thing.’
    ‘Oh.’ Her eyes glaze slightly.
    ‘From what the captain tells me, you’re in the movie business.’
    ‘Bo brags on me because he likes my money – so does the Bahamian government. Every year my repertory company makes a film there. He hauls our sets for us. They tax my balls off – metaphorically speaking.’
    ‘Why go there?’
    ‘I’d lose even more money doing it stateside.’
    A blast of the LCT’s horn silences any further questions and we get underway. Joe finds a seat near the rear of the craft and hunkers down, arms folded, eyes shut, trying to keep his composure. Ellie sees my look of concern, so I explain, ‘My father-in-law’s afraid he’ll get seasick. Even though he’s ex-Navy. Sort of embarrassing, you know.’
    ‘I didn’t think sailors got sick.’
    ‘Served on subs. Mighty smooth sailing down below.’
    Ellie considers the slowly rising and falling sea. ‘Up here can get pretty rough. I hope not today, for his sake.’
    For the first few hours of the journey, Ellie’s wish comes true as we glide across glass-smooth water with barely a swell. Her company of actors, being actors, don’t content themselves with being merely passengers. Within minutes, a few of them pull out guitars and their chorus of songs range from pop to country to folk in an endless, happy loop of contented people on a happy journey.
    I sit beside Joe, who by now is actually humming along with one of the tunes.
    I say, ‘They’re not half bad.’
    ‘Yeah, but all that good energy going straight down the theater toilet.’
    ‘Something wrong with being an actor?’
    ‘Something right about it?’
    ‘C’mon, you like movies, right?’
    ‘So?’
    ‘What do you think they use? Puppets? Hell no, they use actors like those folks right there. And we will too, for the green screen scenes we’re going to produce. ‘
    ‘Why not use live performers we do at Disney?’
    For what seems the hundredth time, I patiently explain that using live actors during the ride will create a logistics nightmare once the ship sinks. Where to put them, how to keep track of them, how to keep them safe while submerged – just too complicated, too dangerous.
    ‘This isn’t Dumbo the Flying Elephant at Disneyland.’
    ‘Always loved that little grey guy.’
    ‘Forget cute. This is the real, gut-grabbing thing. We need actors.’
    I explain how we’ll film them in a series of iconic scenes representing the Titanic disaster. And do so on a green-screen capture stage at seventy-six frames-a-second. Action captured at that high rate of speed will make the actors appear so real that our riders will want to reach and touch them. We’ll integrate these scenes into the pre-existing three-dimensional tableaus by projecting them onto custom-designed, high luminosity screens. Done and done. Illusion complete and ride totally safe – for everybody.
    When I finish explaining, Joe says, ‘Why not go CGI all the way? Dump the warm bodies and go capture-only, like Cameron did with Avatar .’
    ‘I’m not James Cameron.’
    ‘No kidding.’
    ‘And no aliens on the Titanic. Human beings like you and me.’ I punch his arm playfully. ‘You ARE human, aren’t you?’
    ‘Watch me throw up.’
    ‘The sea’s calm.’
    ‘Look again.’
    He’s right; the glass-smooth surface has given way to long rolling swells. The wind’s picking up too, sending clouds scudding across what, minutes ago was a perfectly clear, late afternoon sky. To the southeast a bank of ominous clouds rises up on its haunches, waiting for us.
    I try to make light. ‘How’s that saying go? Red sky in morning, sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.’
    ‘This is the afternoon, and I’m going to puke.’
    The LCT slithers into the bottom of a swell, rises, and falls again. Joe jumps to his feet and makes his way to the