Pixar may very well be one of the few name brands you can trust when it comes to movies. Nearly every studio, director, and star occasionally (or in some cases, frequently) missteps, but the products of the first and still the best of the computer-animation studios are at the least enjoyable and at best phenomenal. Their latest film, "The Incredibles," falls firmly in the latter category, taking its place beside "Toy Story," "Toy Story 2," and "Finding Nemo" as an instant classic in the genre.
Meet Bob Parr (voice by Craig T. Nelson), a man who's not anywhere near as average as his name would imply. He's really Mr. Incredible, one of many superheros ("Supers" for short) who go about defeating costumed villains, rescuing cats from trees, and trying to make the world a better place. Mr. Incredible loves his job, and he does it well. But a string of lawsuits force the Supers into hiding, casting aside the capes and Spandex forever. (One does wonder, though: what happened to all the supervillains when the heroes went away? Wouldn't they have taken the chance to run rampant?) Bob settles down with wife Helen (formerly Elastigirl), his 2.5 children (the elder two of which have developing powers of their own), and gradually feels his life being drained away by a soul-sucking job and a seemingly purposeless existence.
In this, Bob is more than a washed-up superhero: he is every person who's sat in a claustrophobic cubicle, glanced at his current humdrum life and the faded dreams of his youth, and thought "I know there's more to life then this." His social conscience refuses to be repressed: every week he goes out with an old superhero buddy and trades stories of the "good old days" while looking for a chance to do some clandestine heroics. When a mysterious woman offers him a chance to break back into the hero gig, he of course leaps at the chance. It's all a trap of course, masterminded by the evil Syndrome (Jason Lee)--part comic-book geek, part celebrity stalker, and part Bond villain--who's motivated by a combination of petulance, disenchantment, and misplaced ambition. Like the best hero/villain matchups, Mr. Incredible and Syndrome share common ground--both long to be extraordinary men in an ordinary world--which provides for an intriguing dynamic between the characters.
Director/writer Brad Bird knows (as Sam Raimi and Bryan Singer knew and Joel Schumacher was never able to grasp) that the ultimate appeal of superheroes and their adversaries lies not in their extraordinary feats, but their ultimate humanity. The Parr family isn't just a collection of butt-kickers extraordinare, they are people struggling with mid-life crisis, youthful insecurity and frustration, and the mixture of love and exasperation which comes with dealing with one's family. A quarrel at the dinner table is heightened by the presence of family's powers (Mom stretches her arms in a vain attempt to corral the kids, who go at each other with force fields and supersonic speeds), but isn't overwhelmed by them--it's the people, not the powers, that are center stage.
There are plenty of humorous moments in "The Incredibles"--among them, a discussion on the supervillain's tendency to get overly verbose when he should be taking out the good guy, and a diminutive fashion maven (voiced by Bird) who's passion is superhero wear. But there's also a lot of insight as well. Pointed jabs are made at the pressure to conform and the litigators and bureaucrats who increasingly value the bottom line over the betterment of humanity. The heroes learn a little about themselves, while the bad guys are undone by their own hubris and near-sightedness, and both are engaging to the audience.
The first Pixar film with an all-"human" cast, "The Incredibles" is a testimony of how far the technology has advanced since "Toy Story" (remember how plastic Andy and his mom looked?). But as with its ancestor, the triumph here is not merely that of the brain, but of the heart. This isn't just the best animated film so far this year--it's one of the best films of the year period.
Meet Bob Parr (voice by Craig T. Nelson), a man who's not anywhere near as average as his name would imply. He's really Mr. Incredible, one of many superheros ("Supers" for short) who go about defeating costumed villains, rescuing cats from trees, and trying to make the world a better place. Mr. Incredible loves his job, and he does it well. But a string of lawsuits force the Supers into hiding, casting aside the capes and Spandex forever. (One does wonder, though: what happened to all the supervillains when the heroes went away? Wouldn't they have taken the chance to run rampant?) Bob settles down with wife Helen (formerly Elastigirl), his 2.5 children (the elder two of which have developing powers of their own), and gradually feels his life being drained away by a soul-sucking job and a seemingly purposeless existence.
In this, Bob is more than a washed-up superhero: he is every person who's sat in a claustrophobic cubicle, glanced at his current humdrum life and the faded dreams of his youth, and thought "I know there's more to life then this." His social conscience refuses to be repressed: every week he goes out with an old superhero buddy and trades stories of the "good old days" while looking for a chance to do some clandestine heroics. When a mysterious woman offers him a chance to break back into the hero gig, he of course leaps at the chance. It's all a trap of course, masterminded by the evil Syndrome (Jason Lee)--part comic-book geek, part celebrity stalker, and part Bond villain--who's motivated by a combination of petulance, disenchantment, and misplaced ambition. Like the best hero/villain matchups, Mr. Incredible and Syndrome share common ground--both long to be extraordinary men in an ordinary world--which provides for an intriguing dynamic between the characters.
Director/writer Brad Bird knows (as Sam Raimi and Bryan Singer knew and Joel Schumacher was never able to grasp) that the ultimate appeal of superheroes and their adversaries lies not in their extraordinary feats, but their ultimate humanity. The Parr family isn't just a collection of butt-kickers extraordinare, they are people struggling with mid-life crisis, youthful insecurity and frustration, and the mixture of love and exasperation which comes with dealing with one's family. A quarrel at the dinner table is heightened by the presence of family's powers (Mom stretches her arms in a vain attempt to corral the kids, who go at each other with force fields and supersonic speeds), but isn't overwhelmed by them--it's the people, not the powers, that are center stage.
There are plenty of humorous moments in "The Incredibles"--among them, a discussion on the supervillain's tendency to get overly verbose when he should be taking out the good guy, and a diminutive fashion maven (voiced by Bird) who's passion is superhero wear. But there's also a lot of insight as well. Pointed jabs are made at the pressure to conform and the litigators and bureaucrats who increasingly value the bottom line over the betterment of humanity. The heroes learn a little about themselves, while the bad guys are undone by their own hubris and near-sightedness, and both are engaging to the audience.
The first Pixar film with an all-"human" cast, "The Incredibles" is a testimony of how far the technology has advanced since "Toy Story" (remember how plastic Andy and his mom looked?). But as with its ancestor, the triumph here is not merely that of the brain, but of the heart. This isn't just the best animated film so far this year--it's one of the best films of the year period.