Other Reviews in this Series.
Director: Brad Bird
Writer: Brad Bird
Cast: Craig T. Nelson, Holly Hunter, Sarah Vowell, Spencer Fox, Jason Lee, Samuel L. Jackson, Brad Bird
Runtime: 115 mins.
2004
Only just now am I realizing that The Incredibles is the only Pixar movie with a single credited writer/director. Typically these movies have at least one co-director and a laundry list of story and screenplay contributors. Bird taking the reins unsupported on the entire creative process is unheard of for such a collaborative organization, but I suppose it's thematically in keeping with the message of the film.
The Incredibles, after all, is a story of Supers. Following in the medium-shattering footsteps of Alan Moore, Brad Bird takes time to set up a world in which superheroes are popular, potent, and praised by police and populace--only to shatter that world with a government edict that makes superheroism illegal, told in slick newsboy-style spinning newspapers and black and white clips. Thereafter we jump ahead to today, and find that our hero Mr. Incredible has become regular old Bob, wage slave at an insurance company and lackluster family man at home. His wife Helen (Holly Hunter), the former Elastigirl, is desperately trying to keep their marriage alive by putting the past firmly in the past. This includes heavy restrictions on their children Violet (Sarah Vowell) and Dash (Spencer Fox); they are never to use their powers in public. Life is dull for Bob, but this all changes when his secret latenight heroism sessions with old friend Frozone (Samuel L. Jackson) transition into something more involved when he receives a secret message about a secret mission from a secret source.
There's been a great deal of discussion over whether or not Brad Bird is an Objectivist. Objectivists derive their belief system from the work of Ayn Rand, who in turn derives her belief system from the work of Nietzsche. Rand took Nietzsche's philosophy about will to power, and the master/slave paradigm, and she beat all the subtlety out of it while adding in a healthy dose of crazy (not the Nietzsche himself wasn't bonkers). Thus we get books like Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, where the main characters are white men who are such brilliant architects or engineers or whatever that all the normals in the world try to hold them back from achieving their true potential. These men discard all of their cultural inheritance in favor of their individual genius. They're implacable, infallible, and kind of rapey. Rand is one of the only highly influential philosophers I know who has become near-universally dismissed, to the point that there are even blockbuster video games critiquing her worldview.
You may be starting to see how Rand's fetish for exceptionalism may be partially replicated in The Incredibles. Here we have a Super (as they're called in the movie, perhaps harkening back to Nietzsche's ubermensch, or "superman") who is kept from exercising his unique gifts by the rabble of ignorant and jealous normals who can't handle a world where some are more innately powerful than others. "I used to design for gods," costumer Edna Mode opines while gesturing to an art deco statue of a muscular heroic man in the middle of her living room. Then, of course, there's the villain Syndrome, who wanted so badly to be a Super that he couldn't handle being turned away for having no powers--so he hatched an evil scheme to invent technology that would essentially give everyone superpowers. "And when everyone's Super... *evil laugh*... no one will be." Bird's helming of Tomorrowland, which I didn't see, apparently lends ground to these accusations of quasi-Objectivism.
So, is Brad Bird a Randian Objectivist, and should we be letting our children be corrupted by these heartless ubercapitalistic ideals? The short answers are no, and what? It's important to point out right off the bat that Bird's personal politics and beliefs have nothing to do with how his body of work should be interpreted. Just because someone is a feminist doesn't mean that the book they write is in keeping with feminist values, and vice versa.
With regards to the critique of The Incredibles itself, nobody who digs into the text of the film could claim that it is Objectivist in any recognizable sense. Those who have pointed out the Randian undertones are noticing only the tangible details of the film without engaging it on a deeper thematic level. They are correct in pointing out that much of the movie is about Mr. Incredible wishing people would just let him be better than everyone and seek thrills, but that is only the opening salvo in a thematic structure that deals with trust, infidelity, respect, and emotional honesty within a family structure. Ayn Rand would never stand for the cathartic moment at the end when Dash's family encourages him from the stands at a track meet to "Go for a close second!" A true Randian would require Dash to ignore his family, win every race he entered, become rich and powerful, and never bow to any sort of authority figure. That is why these main characters are superheroes in the first place: not to justify their superiority complexes, but to demonstrate that even the best and brightest among us need to make ourselves vulnerable and open to our loved ones, an intensely un-Randian sentiment. "I didn't want to lose you again! I'm not... strong enough," Mr. Incredible admits in one of the most hard-hitting emotional catharses in the entire Pixar canon. The Incredibles is better read as a direct answer to Ayn Rand's philosophy; no man, however Super he is, can stand alone.
Despite what all my philosophical blustering would indicate, not a single moment of the movie feels dense or dull. The Incredibles is the most sleekly entertaining of Pixar's movies. The excellent story combines several of the most central and appealing traditional superhero narratives: the origin story, the aging hero pushed back into the game, and the team of heroes forced to unite in opposition of a greater evil. None of these puzzle pieces feel forced together; all of them are knit into a flawless tapestry by the needles of narrative fidelity and emotional arcs. Every family member is on a journey, and they all enmesh at the moment of greatest suspense, as happens in all the best action movies.
Every action scene in The Incredibles shows a great felicity for visual suspense. The way bodies move and interact in The Incredibles is so appealing and fully realized that I wish some of the current live action superhero movie talent could be siphoned into more animated work. Every action beat is so clearly telegraphed that no matter how chaotic the action becomes, the audience is always clued in to exactly who is where, what is happening, and how every choice they make effects the combat landscape. It's no wonder Brad Bird's first live action feature was Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, and it's no wonder that it's the best Mission: Impossible movie of the five. There's a great physical comedy action sequence where Mrs. Incredible is wedged in three doors, stretched between four rooms, and she has to somehow deal with henchmen in each of these areas. But my favorite action beat in the film, and one of my favorites in any superhero film, is a moment that involves younger brother Dash getting chased by a bunch of flying razor blade vehicles. Dash has super speed, but he's never used his powers freely before and it has already been established that these goons have no problems with killing children. The whole sequence is a masterful escalation of tension as Dash is outmaneuvered by these henchman, all while discovering new facets of his powers. This culminates with Dash emerging from a forest only to see a body of water before him, and he is going too fast to stop. He screams, covers his eyes... and keeps running. The soundtrack is replaced with a soft pitter patter and the tinkling of bells as the camera pulls back and reveals that Dash is running on water. He laughs with the pure pleasure of a child who has just learned an amazing new thing that he is capable of, and speeds off to the sound of triumphant horns.
That description is not super interesting reading, but I drew it out in the hopes of illustrating how perfectly every aspect of the filmmaking works in tandem to create these perfect moments: story, character, composition, editing, camerawork, visual design, sound design. Worth a special mention is the soundtrack. The jazzy blaring horns elevate the action sequences to exuberant highs, and every key scene is underpinned by Michael Giacchino's guiding hand. Years ago, this may have been the first movie soundtrack I ever fell in love with. It's impossible to listen to it without getting excited.
One last thing. The Incredibles is Pixar's first movie starring a cast of humans, so one might expect it to be less visually interesting than their other work. Rather than succumb to that inevitability, the production design team went above and beyond in creating a fully fleshed out half-period half-fantasy world for these characters to inhabit. The environments are an explosion of art deco fever dreams, modernist structure, and corporate suffocation. I found this great architectural website article that lays out the imagination and attention to detail in the design. But it's not just the environments. The characters' designs are all warped and exaggerated so as to maximize their roles and their capacity for physical comedy. The insurance office scenes are a parade of soulkilling details and hilarious sight gags. The Incredibles has the best physical comedy, slapstick or otherwise, since Toy Story.
Brad Bird is returning for a second Incredibles film a few years down the line, and I must admit that it's the only sequel in a long list of sequels Pixar has lined up that I care anything about. I may have given Finding Nemo a better score than I'm going to give The Incredibles, but when the dust settles I believe The Incredibles may be the most viscerally entertaining and endlessly rewatchable of all of Pixar's work.
4.5 / 5 BLOBS
The Short: Boundin
Boundin is a story told after the fashion of American folklore, with a voiceover providing the narration and the character dialogue. Rather than featuring any of the wily intrigue of something like Peter Rabbit, Boundin limits itself to telling the story about a shaved and depressed sheep who gets told to feel better about himself by a roaming jackelope. It's all a great deal too manically cheerful for me, to the point that it feels like an insane man's fever dream.
Boundin is a well-made short though, with a distinct visual appeal that lets these characters have a great rubbery physicality that mixes well with the semirealistic environment. It's not interesting at all, but watching it might make you feel a little bit good.
2.5/5
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