This unique blend of 3-D and Imax technologies is absolutely riveting for viewers of all ages. Men and women, boys and girls from 5 to 85 will have their mouths wide open in wonder. Normally I am not a big fan of space odysseys, but here you are placed right inside the suit of the astronaut as he space walks outside the craft with a wafer thin white lifeline protecting him. You watch his gloved hands manipulate the dials to bring him back inside, and you can't shake the incredible feeling that his hands are yours.

You feel like a part of the crew as they perform their duties, float around like ballet dancers, and aim weightless food at their mouths. The training and professionalism of the men and women involved is awesome, and the combined effects of 3-D and the huge IMAX screen puts the viewer right in the drivers seat in a way I have never experienced before. I recommend it highly, and would love to see it all over again.

Actually I am one of the few working actors to have appeared in both a 3-D and an IMAX film. The 1983 3-D disaster named "The Man Who Wasn't There" (no relation to the Coen Brothers' excellent black and white film with Billy Bob Thornton) starred Steve Guttenberg, and had some good actors--Jeffrey Tambor, William Forsythe and myself--in the cast. As impressive as this might sound, I'm sure it's missing from all our resumes! The script was terrible, and, to put it mildly, the 3-D effects were cumbersome and amateurish. The state of the writing is shown by the fact that William and I were members of a gang called "The Crushers"--need I say more?

The 1993 Imax film was 20 minutes long and cost $14 million. It was financed entirely by Intel as a not too subtle subliminal plug for their then brand new Pentium chip. It was originally titled "Squids" but that obviously sounded like a sea epic, so it was changed to "The Journey Inside."

I played one of a team of three aliens who came to earth to try and steal the Pentium chip. I wore a heavy space helmet with little holes bored through it so I could see out. You earn a lot of overtime on an Imax shoot, as each role of film lasts only 3 min and it takes about half an hour to change film. The script was very long winded, and I had finally memorized this gigantic crap speech when the whole set closed down for 3 hours for technical confabs. Once shooting resumed I had totally forgotten my lines, and proceeded to take off my helmet and vent loudly to everyone on the set about "This shit script, fucking stupid film, and snail-like filming pace!"

There was a small, gray haired, quite striking-looking man about three feet from me who hung ecstatically onto my every word, as he obviously had never seen a true artist venting up close! He turned out to be Andy Grove, a holocaust survivor who had risen to become chairman of Intel, and one of the richest men in America. Mr. Grove was visiting the set to see how his $14 million was being spent, and my outburst was an extra bonus! The P.R. lady almost died, but the crew, who were on the tail end of an absolutely awful day, loved it to a man!

I am off to New York to play Le Comte du Pre on the soap opera "All my Children" for at least a month, but will keep you informed of any good films I catch there, and maybe also some theatre. A bientot.