A few weeks ago, I watched James Cameron’s newest hit, “Avatar,” in 3-D. From what I recall, the last time I saw a 3-D movie was at California’s Disneyland, where they showed Michael Jackson’s “Captain EO.” I felt like I could reach out and shake hands with him as he was dancing and singing, all the while fidgeting with the 3-D eyewear sitting uncomfortably on top of my prescription glasses.
Putting aside my genuine fascination with the improved cinematic technique in “Avatar,” I wondered why the 3-D phenomenon had finally made its way to blockbusters for mature audiences (“Avatar” was rated PG-13 for violence, sex, and occasional smoking) after its success with animated children’s films like “Bolt,” “A Christmas Carol,” and “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.” When I was handed the 3-D eyewear, I felt like a little kid again. It seemed almost ridiculous that the director of the epic “Titanic” was recommending I wear this toy.
As I left the theater in awe, I was reminded of the chicken-and-egg debate in art history about why photography was welcomed by Western society so swiftly in the early 19th century: Was the technology produced as a response to social and cultural demand, or was it simply the culminating point of technological development at the time? When one applies this question to the new and improved 3-D craze since the latter part of this decade, the answer seems just as debatable.
It’s very likely that 3-D technology is simply the engineers’ way of showing off their newest upgrade to the motion picture. From an economic perspective, the 3-D cinema may just be the film industry’s way of attracting more people to the theaters, since many people are starting to prefer watching DVDs at home or downloading movies from the Internet.
But could it be that we, as a modern society, crave 3-D? Other than the fact that it looks cool, there doesn’t seems to be any useful function to this entertainment form—that is, unless you consider it a possible stepping stone for a social demand that resembles a lot of our recent sci-fi scenarios: 3-D communication.
Seeing as the 2-D camera made its way into most computers and laptops in the form of webcams, it is not unforeseeable that soon we will be video-chatting in 3-D as well. Slightly reminiscent of the way Jedi warriors communicate with each other in the Star Wars series, the immediacy of contact and the heightened illusion of actually being present with someone far, far away will no doubt be a big hit, especially for couples in long-distance relationships.
With the expanding notion of globalism, more people are willing to live miles away from their homes. To compensate for homesickness, we take advantage of whatever technology out there allows us to communicate with families and friends all over the world, and we keep demanding that the media simulate reality, or a possible reality of attaining maximum utility for everyone. From this it would make sense for the society to demand, perhaps unintentionally, 3-D as the next closest thing to reality.
This thinning of the line between reality and appearances is intriguing, exciting, and tragic. While technology offers us productivity as well as comfort, it keeps lessening the value of natural human capabilities. Rousseau philosophized that “to live is not to breathe; it is to act; it is to make use of our organs, our senses, our faculties, of all the parts of ourselves which give us the sentiment of our existence.” If this is living, our use of contact lenses, hearing aids, computer keyboards, and thus cameras and video cameras reduces this “sentiment of our existence.” While the 3-D media looks to be just a source of entertainment, it may soon become an outlet for emotions, which, psychology argues, are just as vulnerable and essential as organs to our survival.
In Edwin Abbott’s novel “Flatland,” a square living in a two-dimensional world encourages readers to “aspire yet higher and higher to the secrets of four, five, or even six dimensions, thereby contributing to the enlargement of the imagination and the possible development of that most rare and excellent gift of modesty among the superior races of solid humanity.” As we’ve figured out how to simulate all dimensions with which we’re familiar (all three of them!), could the next step be to inquire how to perceive, observe, and simulate a fourth dimension? Imagine “Avatar,” in 4-D—not only does it have 3-D depth, but you actually get to travel in time as you’re watching it!
If that becomes a reality, don’t say I didn’t warn you about the ever-improving 3-D technology—and your next existential crisis.
Yurina Ko is a Barnard College junior majoring in philosophy. She is a senior editor of the Columbia Political Review. 2+2=5 runs alternate Wednesdays.
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