Billie Eilish powers 3D concert film

    I am not a Billie Eilish fan. I'm also not a Billie Eilish detractor. Put another way,  I've had limited exposure to the work of the Grammy-winning artist whose distinctive style tempers disaffection with rebellious assertion. Eilish's music has been used in movies such as No Time To Die, Barbie, and Turning Red. She takes charge of her image, embracing desexualized, oversized clothing that evokes a youthful Hip-Hop sense of freedom. 

 Eilish shares directing credits with James Cameron for Billie Eilish: Hit Me Hard and Soft -- The Tour Live in 3D, a movie filmed during four arena concerts in Manchester, England. Cameron and his team use 3D to add depth, intimacy, and immersive presence to a film that may appeal mostly to Eilish's legion of fans. But even those with only passing knowledge of Eilish's musical catalog should acknowledge the undeniably strong connection the singer makes with her audience. 

  Forget the idea that someone might attend a concert to listen to music. Eilish's fans sing along with her. Shown in Cameron's somewhat repetitive close-ups, many of her fans are moved to tears by lyrics they know by heart. Fans don't just mouth the words; they deliver them with the conviction of true believers. Many watch with cell phones raised, recording moments that suggest a near spiritual communion.

    Maybe the film is slanted, but interviews with fans suggest that Eilish's music makes them feel seen, offering assurances that they're not alone. Watching the film is like attending a convention of outsiders who have suddenly become the majority.

     I'll leave it to others to comment on the songs. Eilish sings them on an empty stage. Musicians and back-up singers work in two pits separated by another strip of stage. Two female singers dressed like school girls sometimes appear on stage, as does Eilish's brother and frequent song-writing collaborator Finneas O'Connell. 

     But mostly, Eilish commands the spotlight, racing across a rectangular stage or occupying an illuminated square structure that's raised and lowered for dramatic effect, often with her standing on top of it. Cameron, who occasionally appears on camera, reinforces the notion that the stage belongs to Eilish. Her power rests in working without a surfeit of production-oriented frills. 

      Eilish seems to be aiming for a kind of purity of performance. She's the special effect.  Cameron relies on close-ups of Eilish, and uses 3D to reinforce the idea that the concert isn't just a series of songs; it's a communal experience.

      Cameron's interviews aren't especially revealing, and images of the stage and lighting being assembled and later dismantled don't add much either. Cameron breaks up the film with scenes of pre-concert preparation, and Eilish dispenses bits of incidental information. We learn she likes to have a puppy room at her venues: It's populated by adoptable dogs from wherever she's appearing. 

     More importantly, Eilish articulates what her fans presumably already know. She refuses to be imprisoned by the gender stereotypes that too often have defined female performers. She wants to be as wild on stage as any male rapper, and if you're in the target audience, her apparent abandon comes across as playful and liberating.

     A confession: When Eilish announced that the time for the last song had arrived, I was ready for the concert to end. But that doesn't mean that the film didn't make me aware of Eilish's magnetism.  Watching her hold 20,000-plus people in thrall for one hour and 54 minutes is something to see.