The problem is that, for all the potential benefits, 3D just seems to be Hollywood’s most expensive way to give me a headache, even including the Bourne movies and the continued acting career of Shia LaBeouf.

Yes, this is probably just a question of my rubbish eyes, all maggoty with astigmatism and myopia as they are, but I don’t care.

By the end of Avatar’s […], my whole face felt as though someone had just opened the Ark of the Covenant over on the next row. My eyes oozed blood and gooey eyeball juice into my popcorn. Still, at least it stopped anyone else from stealing any.

Even before that point, though, Avatar only gave me about five minutes of genuine 3D ‘Oooh!’ before the effect faded, as any effect inevitably does.

From that point on, the glasses, the popping tricks and the background shimmer – in fact, all the pieces of technology that were meant to be immersing me in the action – served only as a constant lingering reminder that I wasn’t in fact on a distant jungle planet with lots of sexy blue people, but in a cinema and in need of some aspirin.

I quite often lift up the glasses just to compare the two images and every time it’s the same: any power that the 3D version of the film has ultimately comes from the 2D version being exquisitely made. I’ve never wanted for that extra half a dimension as much as I craved the brighter colours and a lack of intense eye-trauma after leaving the cinema.

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