It’s the story that goes on and on, of course, an epic tale but in the end also a grim lesson in dispersal: from individual tragedies in the freezing early hours of April 15 1912 to global fascination, still morbidly acute almost a century after the event; from objects carried in wallets, bags and trunks to – instead of their intended destinations – a debris field some 350 miles off the coast of Newfoundland.
Now these personal effects and pieces of clothing, along with crockery, furniture and parts of the ship, are scattered further, to any number of exhibitions (currently, you can see versions of this show in half a dozen venues around the world) of artefacts legally removed from the wreck of RMS Titanic by the private salvage company RMS Titanic, Inc.
History and Hollywood, conservation and entertainment, the wreck as mass grave and goldmine… From the off, when you are handed a replica boarding ticket bearing the name of a passenger and a few details of their business onboard, this show stirs up conflicting emotions. Sideshow elements – stand before a green screen and a photographer will superimpose your likeness on Titanic’s grand staircase – mingle in the mind with the objects themselves, often unremarkable things such as a pair of pince-nez and a postcard of St Paul’s Cathedral that, sometimes touching, are often so well-preserved that they fail to register as relics from the deep.
Annoyances include wall texts littered with American English and an incessant soundtrack – fiddle music for the section detailing Titanic’s construction in Belfast, Strauss’s ‘Blue Danube’ for the part dedicated to first-class travel, an Eno-esque moodscape in the closing stages – looped in a way that seems designed only to hasten your progress. Yet the show manages to balance showbiz and seriousness, catering for a variety of attention spans and levels of engagement. Statistics and technical data, including plans of the ship, even footage of its construction, are as abundant as attractions such as a touchable wall of ice (an indication, perhaps, that the show may have been dreamed up in warmer climes).
The room sets – first- and third-class accommodation, one of the ship’s 157 furnaces, the captain’s bridge – will appeal to all, and even what seem like gimmicks can turn out to serve a deeper purpose. Your boarding pass, for instance, compels you to engage with the list of passengers and their fates that closes the show, bringing home the scale of the disaster in a moment of quiet contemplation.