The audience enters the 700-seat theatre to the atmospheric strains of James Horner's music. Pinpoints of light behind and around the screen simulate stars. As the lights go down the starfield seems to expand – not along the wall but actually out into the audience, blurring perception of the edge of the screen as the film begins. A small asteroid slowly moves forward from deep in the frame until it hangs a few feet in front of the viewers' noses. The image is clear and flawless, giving no indication of being a mere optical illusion.
With in-theatre lasers, flashing lights and synchronized smoke effects to enhance the 3-D photography, it’s obvious that CAPTAIN EO's intended less as a film than as an event. As such, it may be unfair to apply the same aesthetic criteria one would apply to a theatrical feature, despite the talent and money involved. The question is not whether CAPTAIN Eo is an effective piece of narrative filmmaking – it isn't – but whether it’s a stunning piece of visual razzle-dazzle – it is.
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