trinityvixen | The Incredibles--my take (finally!)

The Incredibles is not Finding Nemo. Nothing like. I have to agree with the Times' review that attributed its existence to the popularity of anime style animation. Not 'anime-style' animation, but anime-style maturity combined with immaturity and silliness: The Incredibles is a cartoon, but it is not a child's thing. I giggled plenty, but the few laugh-out-loud parts were isolated. Mostly, I was amused, bemused, and, oddly enough, achy. I really cared about these characters, the Parr parents in particular. You had the cheesy villain (pinned him from the start), and the kids who 'find themselves,' as surely as in any film, but Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl were utterly three dimensional, pun intended. I really appreciated that, but there's still a slight disconnect here that I can't quite pin down. I have seen plenty of animated films, again, mostly anime, that have three-dimensional characters (Miyazaki comes to mind), but something about computer animation frustrates my adoration. I did like the movie, but I'm not obsessed with it. It spoke true to a lot of things I appreciate now, would have appreciated as a kid, and will appreciate as I age, but something about the 3D animation confuses the emotional center here.

Perhaps it is because, unlike any Pixar film to date, The Incredibles stars people--not toys, not bugs, not monsters, and not fish, people. Hits really close to home that way. It incorporates a respect, love, and responsibility for comic icons that is so rare in today's cinema; Spider-Man and movies of that ilk are fantastic, don't get me wrong, but super-hero films are either classy and understated (possibly the upcoming Batman Begins), action-packed pot-boilers (Spider-Man, Bladeet al), or they're camp (Hellboy, the old Punisher, any Joel Schumacher Batman). The Incredibles assumed a lot of familiarity with the notion of super-heroes and imbued some, if not a whole lot, of reality upon those heroes, the equivalent of the limitations to the heroes' powers that are at the core of every successful comic franchise. If the character has no weakness, no limitation, how can he be sympathetic? What The Incredibles reminded me most of was X-Men and its reality-based limitations on superpowers. Given a suspension of disbelief about mutation, the rest of the world of The X-Men (minus a few miracles, here and there) operates more or less realistically--the actual X-Men face prejudices not uncommon to minorities of all stripes; their powers have some basis, ie they are not just magical (although magic does pop in on occasion), they have sources (the sun, the mind, etc), they have outlets that make sense (Storm can't fly, she uses winds to move herself along, for example).

The Incredibles reminded me of X-Men in the sense that reality does impinge upon the fantastical. It has to in order to be sympathetic and absorbing (Lord of the Rings isn't amazingly good just because Legolas is a HOTT!!!ONEONE!11 elf, or because it takes place somewhere completely removed from human reality, it's moving because it's about interaction, choice, relationships, and destiny, all of which are fairly common themes throughout reality as well as fiction). In The Incredibles, reality takes the form of bureaucracy, tall poppies versus egalitarian thought, and, perhaps most notably, jealousy and disappointment. Bureaucracy steps in as the regulatory limit on the fantastical acceptance we make about the possibility of real super-humans existing. Superhumans exist? Fine, then they work for their paycheck, life-saving, purse-snatcher-catching, the works. They're regulated, protected, put to work, hell, they probably even have a union.

Relationships come into play as an outlet, of a sorts, to blow off steam at the end of the crime-fighter's day. It's how we understand the lead couple has met, fallen in love, and decided to get married. It's how come a super-speedy kid and a girl who can be invisible still listen to their parents. I like that love and respect define relationships, but I like that it's not unconditional, and that love isn't the answer to it all. Mr. Incredible loved his wife, but he still lied to her about getting fired and his new job. Elastigirl loved him but still entertained the notion that he was cheating on her (thus explaining his sudden boost of confidence and sexual satisfaction--the blatant display of which probably threw me off most about this 3D cartoon).

But it was the truly ugly side of the human condition that is where the film best nails human and superhuman behavior: pride and jealousy. Syndrome was as lame as a bad guy could get, and he was a bit of a Deus ex Machina at times only in reverse: he'd show up to rescue the heroes from a premature happy ending. Every time. They look like they might escape? Syndrome shows up and zaps them with that beam. They stop the mad robot from destroying Townsville..er, the city? Syndrome pops up to steal their baby. He was lame, lame, lame, but he was frighteningly average, which made him, despite sucking so much, real. He was scorned by his hero, so he hated him. As we all know, hate leads to the dark side, and off he went. He was fed up with not being taken seriously as a hero because he had no powers. So, in true American can-do-it fashion, he made himself into a superhero, something our ethos is supposed to support--if you're not born with a silver spoon and you earn one for yourself by being a really good engineer (hello, Bill Gates!), you're an American success story.

Syndrome turns that myth into a reality with all the ugliness it entails that we usually don't pay much attention to when considering our corporate 'heroes' (sweatshop workers producing Michael Jordan's Nikes, the madness and evil that is Stephen Jobs, etc etc). He is not content to be a hero, he must be the hero. He's still jealous even as he's proud of his accomplishment. Syndrome had everything--money, intelligence, a slinky assistant trapped with him and his goons on a deserted isle--but he couldn't let go of his envy or his grudge. So, however malevolent, however cartoonishly malevolent he was at times, his motive was still eeriely unnerving. "Soon everyone will be super, so no will." He lived the American success story and it didn't make him happy. Time to try the other way, the road to super-powered mediocrity. It's scary because it's so possible. Hell, didn't some Scottish manufacturing tycoon manage to run the equivalent of a communist commune with his factory workers? Once you're rich through competitive means, you can level the playing field. It means everybody's even, but no one's special so no one can be.

I liked that message--it's the quintessential argument against the 'tall poppy' theory. Not everyone can be special. You either are, you become, you earn it, or you don't. That's life. It may seem unfair to the kid without, but the key is to be happy with what you are at whatever level you are. It's not a happy moral, but it's the most blunt and accurate one you could hope for, especially in this medium. I suppose this contributed to my not adoring the film. The Incredibles is a good film, one of the best animated or otherwise I've ever seen, but I'm not fawning for it. I won't see it 10-12 times like I saw something more and less complicated like The Matrix. I'm still working on why that is? Is the film uncomfortably close in its portrayal of humanity? Surely. Is that why I know it to be good but can't say I love it? Who knows?

Perhaps it was the animation itself? For the first time I can remember in a 3D environment, the environment itself played a very minor role. This is the first film to approach filmic level of scenery--the backdrop is there just as in any movie, to set the scene, locate the characters, affect the impression of the situation. It's a character itself, but it is not anywhere close to being on a level ground with the rest of the characters. In Pixar films, the background has always been just as important as the characters--the great door circus in Monsters Inc., the beautiful tree and swaying grasses in A Bug's Life, even the Pizza place and Sid's yard in Toy Story, and hell, I haven't even gotten to the friggin ocean in Finding Nemo. In The Incredibles, however, the background is akin to what your used to with 2D environment or live action. It flavors the acting, but it is not the main course. In fact, the backgrounds in The Incredibles are some of the most forgettable of any movie I've ever seen. Edna's house is white in my memory, and that's about it. The Parr's home is 1960's style white with 60's green couches. Syndrome's island is big and green with trees. His base has loads of hallways and cavernous rooms. About the only environment I remember well is the giant lava-flow wall, seeing as it was basically showing off on the part of Pixar. Can only imagine how that meeting went...'Oh, well, we've mastered water, what else is there?' 'We could try fire...' 'Ooh, no, wait, I got one better: lava!' "Lava, you say?" "Can we do that?" ::series of unpleasant looks:: "Right, I mean, uh, let's do it!"

Other than the aforementioned emotional closeness equating to emotional distance (ie resonance with the characters and presiding sentiments leading to dissonance with the film while still liking it), I have to say I have never loved such flawed characters before. Perhaps I should say such human characters. I don't know if I can pick a favorite. Frozone was pretty funny; Edna Mode was hilarious, especially as the fool who knows too much a la Shakespeare. There's one line she says to Elastigirl/Helen that I think could save many a marriage in this country: "Show him that you remember that he's Mr. Incredible, then remind him who YOU are." That simple. If you remembered every day, took the time to really remember why you married someone, why you fell in love with them, you'd find, most of the time, those reasons to love someone were still there in the person you're still with. Provided they do the same, of course. Give as well as you get, and maybe you won't have to try so hard to remember and neither will your SO. It's almost a throwaway line, but it's sheer genius: the golden rule for couples.

Otherwise, I'd have to say my favorite was definitely Mr. Incredible/Bob. He's one of the best protagonists ever, and I mean that for real-real, and not for play-play. He's, at the center, a decent man, wanting to live a dream but willing to put up with a nightmare for his family. It's just that it's so draining he has little else to offer them besides some security, and even there, he's messing up left and right. But he tries, and even when he fails and it's his fault, it's hard to hold him responsible. Mostly, I think, because he never crosses the line into the unforgiveable. Plenty of heroes do, becoming dark heroes, imperfect ones, and that's supposedly more real. I think you can have a tragically flawed hero, and The Incredibles proved this, who isn't a dark hero. Vain, yes, a tad untruthful, sure. Skirting around the rules to preserve status quo? Absolutely, but for a good reason and only to a point. When he grabs Mirage and threatens to kill her if he's not set free, it's a surprise move. He's not the type, and he might play at it to get what he wants, but when it comes time to break necks or cut bait, he folds.

That was possibly the most tragic part of the movie. Syndrome walks off unaffected by the belief he has killed his ex-hero's family; Mirage follows, slowly, troubled as most of us would be in light of another's careless treatment of human life but not personally involved, and as a result, conflicted; Mr. Incredible left alone, vulnerable and in the dark, sobbing for his family, who, although they might not always have known it, are very much the center of his world. His striving to recapture the glory days has come back to bite him in the ass, and he's broken by it. (on a side note: I nearly cried at this point despite being assured that, conventions being what they are, the family was not in fact dead) When Mirage returns and he's angry, his tangible relief is so believable because of this earlier scene that I didn't really find it funny that he went from choking her to hugging her. Grief is a funny engine, joy, even more so. When Helen shows up, Bob's completely uncaring that he's pressed up against a gorgeous woman (who also probably has the slightest romantic interest in him), he just runs at his wife. It's utterly real in all the ways that macho hero-types in live-action cinema are fake. It's real relief. Later, while running through the jungle and being nattered at by his wife, Mr. Incredible just takes it because "You keep trying to pick a fight, but I'm still just happy you're still alive." Who wouldn't take whatever they dished out to have a loved one back? It's touching, heart-felt, and not showy about it. That is what those idiots running around screaming their heads off about moral values ought to be talking about. Love that doesn't demand recognition, respect that doesn't have to be requited but will be if given out so willingly. It's why he's my favorite. He may want the glory back, but not at any cost.

And, of course, that last bit at the end, where he admits he isn't strong enough to live without them. ::single tear:: That, my friends, is a hero. That is my hero. One who admits his weakness and knows how to cover it is better than one who cannot see that blind spot, or, worse, has none. Bravado is all well and good, as is fallibility, but striking the right balance like that? Perfection. I think I may have to be in love with Brad Bird for this. Sigh. It may have a happy ending, I may have known it would have to, but The Incredibles made me fear for my hero, its hero, and triumph when he did. When they all did. That is the very definition of a good movie.