What Anthony Lane the famous and prestigious film reviewer says

Everybody knows the old E.M. Forster distinction between story and plot: "The king died and then the queen died" is a story. "The king died and then the queen died of grief" is a plot. Fair enough, but what Forster failed to foresee was the emergence of a third category, the Quentin Tarantino plot, which goes something like this: "The king died while having sex on the hood of a lime-green Corvette, and the queen died of contaminated crack borrowed from the court jester, with whom she was enjoying a conversation about the relative merits of Tab and Diet Pepsi as they sat and surveyed the bleeding remains of the lords and ladies whom she had just blown away with a stolen .45 in a fit of grief." It is hard to know what Forster would have made of Tarantino's new movie Pulp Fiction. I suspect he would have run gibbering into his study, locked the door, and hidden behind the bookshelves. Not just because of the bloodshed – all that brain matter suddenly appearing on the outsides of people's skulls, instead of working quietly within, where it belongs – but because of the equal violence done to narrative form.

YEAH. I AGREE.

And here is his summary of Titanic:

They fall in love, he draws her nude, they make out in the cargo hold, and then the ship, in a touching display of erotic sympathy, rears up on end and goes down.

My great-grandmother remembered the Titanic sinking, incidentally. And my other great-grandmother used to work for Thomas Edison. So.