Real 3-D – comin' atcha

As dear old Uncle George embarks on the 3-D-ification of the Star Wars movies, providing us all with the opportunity to buy the entire saga all over again (how many times is that now?), debate nonetheless continues to rage about the validity of 3-D.

In cinemas across the UK, the multi-million investment in 3-D projection equipment has, of course, already been made, and even as I write, production lines in the Far East are gathering momentum, churning out – whether we like it or not – a new generation of 3-D Blu-Ray players and TVs. Yet amongst critics, it's hard to find a single voice raised in support. Roger Ebert dismissed 3-D as 'a waste of a perfectly good dimension', while on the other side of the Atlantic, Mark Kermode's rants on the subject have reached epic proportions. On his 'Kermode Uncut' blog at www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/markkermode/ he even offered instructions on how to make special '3-D correcting glasses' which convert a 3-D cinematic projection back into a nice, user-friendly 2-D format. For bemused audiences, still seemingly split on the subject, the issue is just a bit of a headache – and not only because it forces you to go cross-eyed.

But for all this, 3-D does, perhaps, have a natural place in cinema – and, somewhat controversially, it's not where anyone expects it to be.

Let me explain.

For one moment, let's put all those well-worn, overly-familiar arguments about the process to one side. Let's pretend that it doesn't cause severe spectacle build-up among those who already wear glasses, that it doesn't cost significantly more to get in to a 3-D movie – effectively meaning we are paying for the installation of projection equipment that we didn't ask for and perhaps never wanted – that the retro-fitting of existing films into 3-D isn't an industry-wide horror that makes colorization seem like a mere amateur jape, and that the lenses don't mean a 30% colour loss when we're watching the film. Let's pretend, too, that it doesn't render larger objects woefully unimpressive, making them look more like a tiny model than they would have back when those effects were actually done with a tiny model. Let's pretend, in fact, that it just works.

OK, fine. But there's still a problem - and it's one that is rarely, if ever, addressed.

Here's the thing. I don't know about you, but I see in 3-D all the time. I open my eyes in the morning. 3-D. I make a cup of tea and look out of the window. 3-D. I cross the kitchen – using my depth perception to skilfully avoid collision with a chair. 3-D. To many, right now, 3-D appears to be a new and exciting phenomenon. Other, more, cautious souls refer back to 3-D movies of the 1950s, or to Edwardian stereoscopic photographs. But really, they're missing the point. The fact is, 3-D is old news. Really old. Like, millions of years. Considering this, it goes without saying that seeing things in 3-D is actually, well... a bit boring. It's humdrum. Everyday. Just... normal.

So why, when we go to the cinema to experience a distinctly different kind of world – one that, for the most part, we hope is neither boring nor everyday – is 3-D thought to be an exciting addition to the mix? And why is this belief apparently even more fervent when the films in question are big, fantasy extravaganzas, whose raison d'être is escape, and whose attraction is therefore their very difference from the ordinary world that surrounds us? Surely, adding 3-D to these astonishing, wonderfully unreal worlds is rather like gazing upon the painstakingly created, magical realm of L Frank Baum's Oz in all its vibrant, gaudy glory, then gleefully announcing 'Hey, let's make it look even more real! Let's furnish it from Laura Ashley paint it magnolia!'?

But wait... Not all of cinema is about escape. There are films, after all, that aim not to take us away from the world, but to hold a mirror up to life – to bring it closer (even that phrase 'bring it closer' is suggestive). For some filmmakers, the everyday – the humdrum, the 'real' – is their preferred territory; their quest, to make film as 'real' as possible. Following the logic, it soon becomes clear where 3-D truly belongs; not in Wonderland or among clashing Titans, in the hands of woolly-headed fantasists and expressionists, but with the realists, the kitchen-sinkers, the purveyors of true-life grit.

I imagine Ken Loach and Mike Leigh are merely biding their time before making their move. And Michael Winterbottom and Shane Meadows are doubtless waiting for the hype to die away before laying claim to what is rightfully theirs. After all, how can they reasonably resist what the 3-D revolution offers – the chance to make their cinematic worlds more real than they have ever been before?

Then, and only then, will 3-D cinema finally make sense.