U23D

The world's greatest rock band received a meager attendance this Saturday at my local theater. My husband and I and four other couples had the place to ourselves when we donned our funky glasses for U23D. The hype promised me I'd feel like I was right there; I loved the film, but 3D didn't bring it for me.

Before anyone eggs my blog, let me state for the record I LOVE U2. I would enjoy their rockumentary in any D--my DVR is set to record all things U2 and Bono (which is how I caught Chastity Bono on Sell This House)--I'm just saying that the 3D effect didn't heighten my experience.

Settling into the beginning of the movie was the same as trying to see a 3D figure emerge from those weird prints in the 1990s. There weren't any affectations for the movie, which I was glad of; it was pure U2. I liked seeing common things, like Larry Mullen Jr.'s iced tea in a glass near his right elbow and a handwritten note taped to the top of Edge's keyboard. In fact, I would have liked to have seen more of this kind of detail. Who handed Bono his bandanna? Who kept refilling Larry's tea? What were they doing right before the show and where did they run to right after? Inquiring fans want to know!

The perspective from the stage was outstanding. Looking at the number of people in the audience and knowing that not one of them was a computer-generated being was overwhelming. Cell phones held in the air caused the arena to look like a perfect night filled with stars. (Sidenote: I once went to a concert where the couple in front of me had no cell phone or lighter. They lit paper matches and held them till the matches burned down to their fingers.)

Audience members' hands seemed to be right in front of me. I hate when anything obscures my vision--like those annoying girls who sit on guys' shoulders. You never see guys doing that. At least, that's what I thought until the film showed three bare-chested guys sitting on top of other guys' shoulders, swinging their shirts around, belting out the words. Wherever Bono went, hands stretched out to him, even from ten or fifteen people deep. At times, the people on the floor ebbed and flowed, like tides in the ocean. I can only imagine what it was like to have been there.

The show ended with Yahweh, a reflective, prayerful song. We stayed (and so did those eight other people) until all the credits rolled. No clips at the end. Just the feeling of wanting more.