They were the very moments when Billy, alongside the cast of Titanic, realized they were being awaited—and among the favored audience, women stood atop the chain. On its opening weekend across 2,675 theaters in the U.S. and Canada, the film grossed an average of $28.6 million. Yet this time, there were fewer direct competitors. Pixar's animated film Gigantic had been pushed back by two weeks to June 19, 1997, so there wasn't exactly a serious rival.
Although Pixar's recent box office numbers had been staggering, often exceeding $900 million, its fan base had been cultivated through Lux Comics, one of its key advertising chains across all age groups. Pixar gained massive attention not only by producing quality content but also by investing heavily in sports—basketball, football, baseball—supporting disabled individuals and women striving to make a living as athletes. It was a way to earn goodwill. People would say things like, "Let's go see that movie by that good guy who seems to really care," or, "He's into sports and supports women and the disabled." In the U.S., a good public image often translates to recognition and support. It wasn't everything, but it gave a 20% edge, especially when the films themselves delivered.
What a contrast, then, when with just $28 million at the box office opening weekend, the investment felt fragile. Billy could only watch as critics started turning and opinions shifted, the performance not exactly impressive.
–Don't worry about the movie... things will turn around little by little. A good story doesn't need extra noise or hype,– said Billy, taking a sip of water, utterly exhausted. First, it was L.A., then all of California, then they moved on to other states—Texas was already on the list, the gateway to the East Coast.
–Mmmm… but I don't care, I already love the movie too much to back away from it,– said Kate, looking at him with pride for the project she'd been part of. Though her future comments might sound different, it was clear she genuinely liked the film. She had wanted to be in it. It seemed almost unreal—despite what she'd later say, her frequent calls to Cameron, her obsession with rehearsing, and even agreeing to nudity on camera all revealed her dedication to the role.
–I'm just saying… It's a good film,– she added, raising her arms in an apologetic gesture, not venturing further than that lingering question on her lips.
–So, do you think we've failed? I mean, it's not like I have many options other than a string of supporting roles… I'm not as pretty as others,– she whispered. The unspoken tension led to some countries outright canceling wide releases. Only North and South America, the UK, and Tokyo held on, though no one could quite explain why. The production stalled, paralyzed by the fear of losing money. Even Billy's involvement was a sensitive issue for producers who, failing to grasp nuance, only cared about profit, and their investment was quickly vanishing as misunderstandings deepened. A movie that starts with $28 million was projected to gross at least $300 million. Like many slow-burn hits, expectations were to break even and capitalize later on DVD sales.
–I don't like being asked about my body,– Kate said bluntly, clearly out of sorts.
–Do you have a role lined up?– Billy asked, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.
–I've got some ideas, and I've been pitching myself. I'm in talks for a part in something called Hideous Kindy—nothing huge yet, but I admit, I'm picky. I always question those delicate roles,– Kate said. She had a process: she needed to feel in sync with the script, and only then would she commit. Her roles tended to vary, but she always sought those that carried the emotional weight she loved—tragedy, solitude, heartbreak—characters woven with sadness or discontent.
The promotional tour continued. Everything had been meticulously planned so that actors could meet with the public and perform ceremonies at key, fixed locations.
–Here they come again,– said Kate, as the cameras began flashing. This time, local, state, and federal media were present, alongside a few national outlets, supported by portfolios of another kind.
–Billy, pleasure from Texas Media—what can a guy do when he's playing the same role twice?– a reporter asked.
–Same role? For me, they're two different movies. You should watch them,– Billy replied.
Another reporter, this time a man, asked if Billy's ultimate goal was winning an Oscar and if dying on-screen was his tactic to earn Academy votes.
Billy kept his composure, responding calmly that, in his view, the Oscars were only one part of success—and that his focus remained on what he could control.
–What can I expect? A nomination or a vote is out of my hands. Even other people's success deserves only a bit of attention. I can't control external factors—I just make sure I claim my own space,– Billy said.
He made a mental note of the questions that followed—most of them variations of the same theme: how his money bought him a place, even when his films seemed filled with symbolism or misfit stories.
***
June 15.
The second week brought a wake-up call, with a 30% increase and a box office of $37.1 million. That brought the total to $65.6 million—a leap, yes, but a discouraging one considering the $200 million budget. From a financial standpoint, that pace was insufficient.
–Two lousy weeks,– James Cameron muttered, reading a scathing Times headline criticizing his penchant for films that lacked sense or substance.
–Seems like an overreaction to me,– said John Ladou. –I spoke to Billy—he said success comes slowly, but that a jump like this is still a good sign.–
–I know, but those bastards just want to make me uncomfortable… it all started when I refused their interview because of their cheap tabloid spin,– Cameron replied, clearly irritated. Being attacked while having made what he considered an almost perfect film left him feeling misunderstood.
–Billy's book took time, but it's now flying off the shelves. They're talking about a second print run—maybe even double. Honestly, he's made more from the book than we did with the movie,– Ladou said.
–You're absolutely right,– Cameron agreed. He hadn't expected the book to be that good. But Billy had taken a screenplay and spun it into something richer—tales within tales. It gleamed with elegance. The book's romance and descriptions were well above average, but more importantly, Billy's brilliance lay in how he painted each setting, his narrative pulling readers into timeless, immersive scenes.
–Seems like the Japanese love us—more than the French do,– said John Ladou, looking out over the skyline. The city sparkled in every direction. Billy's reception there had been phenomenal, with a population nearing 100 million.
–I hate this country. I hate everything except my truck and my blanket. I can't stand having to show up to these uncomfortable places,– Cameron muttered.