With U2 3D, one gets the feeling that someone somewhere has finally figured out what that technology brings to the table that no one else’s does. You may have been to a concert before. You may even have been to a U2 concert before. But, short of being a band member, you have never seen a U2 concert like this before – not even if you saw Rattle and Hum, which when paired with this would be an instructive lesson in what the 90’s, and middle age, did to U2… and what U2 did to them.

But never mind. This isn’t a history lesson or an analysis of U2’s career arc. U2 are something like a force of nature, a globe-trotting behemoth in an age where niche music marketing has become the norm. They’ve written some great songs that I love, though I couldn’t name you more than two or three of their albums. My mom, however, knows every band member by name – which tells you something about the band’s changing demographic; likewise, their ability to be a lot of things to a lot of people. They are also consummate showmen who use incredible set and light design to complement their own considerable energy. Indeed, watching them knock every song out of the park wore me out a little.

But what a ride. U2 got where they are by being very, very good at what they do, and their passion in execution holds up well under the intense scrutiny of the 3D cameras. And those cameras do seem to be everywhere: In Bono’s face, hovering over the drum kit, following the Edge as he swaps between keyboard and guitar effortlessly, sweeping out over the seemingly infinite Argentinian crowd. You flinch back when Bono gets in your face, or a drum stick whips back. Or jump with the fans. Your standard movie treats the audience something like a voyeur, as if we’re all watching what’s going on from the balconies of an operating theater. 3D director Mark Pellington has us walking on the stage, around the performers, among the front row crowds. Disorientation gives way to exhiliration in seconds. It’s the cheapest you’ll pay for the best concert tickets you’ll ever have.

But there is some drag, and I will admit to checking the running time before seeing the screening. As cool as the technology is, there really are so many overhead shots of the vibrating drum kit you can take before you start to feel you’ve seen it before. The final songs show us something more – flames, Bono interacting with the camera directly, even what might be called word art flashing on the screen, accompanying and complimenting the song. The credits feature a truly stunning bit of animation, and you can’t help but wish the filmmakers had dared to be less literal earlier on. Had they done so, they – and U2 – may have had something truly unique on their hands.

A golden rule of good criticism says that if you’ve written anything that sounds like a blurb, delete it. But the blurb is no less true for being a blurb. A friend overheard someone call U2 3D the “Star Wars of concert movies,” and that’s likely as good a comparison as any you’ll find. It’s loud, it’s brassy, every second or third shot will have you mouthing the word “whoa,” and when it’s over you’ll want to whoop and holler even if you know better. I didn’t whoop and holler, and I regretted it – honestly, truly regretted staying in my seat – the rest of the night. If you see U2 3D, dear reader, please don’t hold back like I did. Whoop and holler your ass off.