The wrenching tale of a man and a woman, drawn together by the inexorable power of love, hounded by a repressive, hypocritical society. Disaster, bravery and cowardice. Numbing length and numbing dialogue. Meaningful jewelry. Significant cigars.

Really, about the only difference between the film “Titanic” and President Clinton’s taped grand jury testimony is better acting. By the president.

There is one other way in which the president distinguishes himself during his four-hour, 18-minutes of squirming, sweating and obfuscating — at least he apologizes, albeit in his trademark roundabout, known henceforth as Clintonian, way. How on earth, for example, can a well-educated man talk for a good eight minutes about a decorative pin and still leave the listener unsure who gave it to whom or what became of it?

From the start, this That Woman scandal has been closely tied to the movies, perhaps because this White House has always had a significant Hollywood connection, perhaps because the level of culture today simply cannot support literary allusions.

It started, back in the first avalanche of rumor, with references to “All the President’s Men,” that most excellent film of the good old days when journalism meant reliable sources, digging for facts, double-checking and an abiding regard for the truth. Next came “Wag the Dog,” a less-excellent but still amusing and relevant black comedy about media manipulation. “Sex, Lies and Videotape,” a project of film-school quality on a bigger budget, got thrown in mainly because of the title.

What next, now that this epic spectacle of the president of the United States perspiring through his undershirt is in the public domain? Will Mr. Clinton’s enemies put especially damaging snippets of his testimony on an endless tape loop so that “inappropriate intimate contact” makes “show me the money” seem a poor excuse for a catch-phrase? Will his supporters cobble together an excerpt showing a humble guy who’s truly sorry, hoping the public won’t ask whether he’s sorry for what he did or just for getting caught? Is Rosebud a sled?

The final reel is in the hands of Congress. Judging from the mindless glee with which it released this tape and an accompanying 2,000 pages of pornographic detail, the public is likely to see something of a cross between the teen-age gross-out film and the take-no-prisoners bloodbath. Call it “There’s Something About Dirty Harry.” Too bad, just when there’s a growing audience for “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.”