Experiencing “Billie Eilish — Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D)” felt like witnessing the payoff of nearly a decade of Billie Eilish’s artistic evolution. I attended one of the early listening screenings for the “Hit Me Hard and Soft” album back in 2024, and returning for another early screening two years later — this time for the shot-for-IMAX concert film documenting the album tour that my wallet unfortunately forbade me from attending in person — made the entire experience resonate with me on a deeply personal level.
I have listened to hundreds, maybe thousands of albums at this point, but no body of work has altered the way I think about music and what music is capable of doing emotionally more than “Hit Me Hard and Soft.” In truth, the album was one of the main reasons I wanted to pursue music journalism in the first place. Because of that, I walked out of the theater not entirely sure whether my visceral response to the experience came from the film itself or simply from the intense emotions I had already attached to the album.
But over the last year, I’ve realized that criticism is never really free from personal experience in the first place, and that the most powerful experiences I’ve had with any work of art have always been inseparable from where I was in life when I encountered them. It is impossible for any good concert film to ignore the emotional attachment between itself and the audience, and what elevates “Billie Eilish — Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D)” is how fully it leans into that connection, somehow amplifying it to entirely new levels.
For many popular singers, the function of their concerts is to manufacture intimacy at arena scale, but Eilish’s music already possesses that closeness long before she ever steps on stage. The blockbuster-quality production of the film simply magnifies the intimacy already embedded in her discography. That is what allows co-director James Cameron to create what he himself described as “a concert film on a scale no one has attempted before” without losing sight of what has resonated with millions worldwide: Eilish’s sincere vulnerability.
Directed by both Cameron and Eilish herself, it was clear from the start that the goal of the film was never to simply record a performance. If you are going to immortalize one of the most streamed and culturally dominant albums of the decade, why not go all-in with one of the highest-grossing film directors of all time and push the concert film format to its absolute limit?
The film achieves a perfect balance between spectacle and emotional intimacy by using 3D and unfiltered behind-the-scenes glimpses into the pressure of tour life and fame to collapse the distance between Eilish and the audience.
The sheer scale of the film plays as the cinematic canonization of an already-legendary two-year album cycle. There is a palpable sense that everyone involved understood the cultural and generational significance of what they were making, and the result is a full-scale victory lap so deeply affecting and technically ambitious that I honestly do not expect anyone, including Eilish herself, to surpass it anytime soon.
The film closes with Eilish departing one of her Manchester, U.K. performances in a black SUV, her arm reaching out the window as she reflects on how these drives are the only moments she can take a “breath of fresh air” during tour days. It is a strangely quiet ending for a film so overwhelmingly sensory, but after two hours of screaming crowds, pyrotechnics, lasers and relentless emotional intensity, the scene feels almost like being pulled out from underwater. It is only here that you realize how ingeniously the film submerges the viewer inside the same overwhelming emotional current that defines Eilish’s existence throughout the tour.
By allowing Eilish to exist within all the pressure, gratitude and exhaustion that come with her level of fame, the film succeeds in placing the audience directly inside the strange contradiction of modern fame. She is both a near-mythic cultural force shaping contemporary music and a 24-year-old still trying to process the weight of her immeasurable impact.
The setlist itself somehow manages the impossible task of spanning nearly all of Eilish’s career without ever feeling bloated or exhausting, with each song arriving with its own distinct production and energy. Even fan-favorite deep cuts such as “Halley’s Comet,” “BITTERSUITE” and “Male Fantasy” appear occasionally during candid backstage moments and credit sequences.
Although the recurring focus on her relationship with her brother and longtime creative partner Finneas O’Connell feels slightly over-wrought by the final act, their chemistry together onstage — during “Happier Than Ever” in particular — is undeniable and beyond electric. In line with this sense of heightened sentimentality, some of the fan interviews and repeated over-the-top live reactions occasionally feel a bit corny to watch. But as someone who cried three times during the screening, I really have no standing to judge.
One of the film’s most touching moments comes when Eilish discusses her desire to become the kind of female artist she wished she had growing up — an artist capable of inspiring the same chaotic crowd energy and moshing culture often associated with male rap and hip-hop performers. At one point, she says, “I want to be the artist that I would want to be a fan of.” Her genuine commitment to that philosophy is what ultimately defines the entire film.
“Billie Eilish — Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D)” is living proof that Eilish has already achieved exactly that. More than anything else, it functions as the convergence point between the very best of what cinema and music can achieve emotionally, once again solidifying Eilish as a once-in-a-generation talent impossible to look away from. She’s the headlights; we’re the deer.
