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The Incredibles
U, 111 mins
Dir. Brad Bird
DVD
What a good time this is to be a child. Not only is Jamie Oliver rescuing them from the evil machinations of the Turkey Twizzler, but their salad days coincide with a golden age of animation. And when the DVD has finished there’s still enough ozone left to play outside.
The flood of CGI wonders that started with Toy Story, and continued through Antz, Shrek, Finding Nemo, etc., this year brings Robots, Valiant and Madagascar. It has brought together good stories and performances, and an uncanny combination of whatever it is that makes kids keep watching after the 10,000th time with enough wit and knowingness to stop parents going mad in the process. Plus, of course, visuals so consistently amazing that you keep forgetting to be amazed.
The Incredibles has been around long enough for us to dispense with any great explanation of the basics: yes, the animation reaches a new peak, and the story concerns decommissioned superheroes trying to live as normal people despite their powers.
But this second point is precisely where the film is at its most intriguing, because it offers a sustained discussion of egalitarianism - a countercultural defence of elitism in fact - which as far as Hollywood animation is concerned puts it in an intellectual league of its own.
The problem facing the superfamily is that they have to live the lives of average people when they could be doing so much more. Mr Incredible has to work for a mean insurance firm (and ‘save the world one policy at a time’ as he bitterly puts it) because he is banned from rescuing people from burning buildings. Young Dash, whose superpower is speed, has to go deliberately slow in school races because no one must know his secret.
‘Why can’t I do my best?’ he asks his mum.
‘Right now the world just wants us to fit in.’
‘But dad always says our powers are nothing to be ashamed of, our powers made us special.’
‘Everyone’s special, Dash.’
‘Which is another way of saying no one is.’
The orthodox Hollywood answer to this would be for everyone to get in a scrape and Dash to save the day without using his powers, thereby learning the valuable lesson that everyone is unique and can do worthwhile and impressive things without elitist gifting. ‘You can be a superhero without powers.’
And yet that line is given to the villain of the film, Syndrome, a normal person who was determined to be a superhero despite his lack of powers. Back in the glory days, Mr Incredible refused to have him as his boy wonder, and the chip on his shoulder turned him into a baddie who kills the undercover ‘supers’, so that with the aid of technology, he can save world from a staged disaster and become its only superhero. Then, ‘I’ll sell my invention so that everyone can be super. And when everyone’s super, no one will be’. Instead, the Incredibles decide they are going to be incredible after all, and use their powers to defeat Syndrome.
On this level, the film is hugely refreshing as an antidote to one too many Hollywood hymns to the universal panacea of self-belief, one too many expositions of egalitarian self-evident truths from the most luxurious city in the world. As a defence of excellence, The Incredibles is certainly more thought-provoking than one had any business expecting it to be.
And yet a small shift of perspective puts a seriously different gloss on the film. The ‘supers’ are despised by the rest of the world who are suspicious of superpowers and interfering dogoodery. But ‘super’ can be short for ‘superpower’ as well as ‘superhero’, and when you notice that, the film becomes an intriguing and in fact quite alarming reflection of contemporary US self-image.
The supers once bestrode the world, standing against the universally recognised bad guys. But now, after an unfortunate case of collateral damage, the world has turned on them and wants them to keep to themselves. ‘Safer without them’ says a newspaper headline. So the remaining supers agonise over whether it’s wrong to liberate and defend people who don’t want to be liberated or defended.
When, for example, Mr Incredible and his superfriend Frozone illegally enter a burning building to rescue unlucky citizens, Frozone asks, ‘What are we doing here, Bob?’
‘We’re protecting people.’
‘Nobody asked us.’
‘You need an invitation?’
When the missus takes the same line, he insists, ‘I performed a public service. You act like that’s a bad thing!’
How consciously this is offered as reflections on the war on terror is hard, and probably unnecessary, to say. Either way Brad Bird’s comparisons on the audio track between Syndrome and real terrorists suggest that the parallel reflects his concerns, whether intentionally or not, making The Incredibles an unexpected window into US feelings about the ethics of beneficent invasion.
And if that all sounds a bit dull, it all gets left behind in the second half of the film in favour James Bond chases, explosions and fights. As my four-year-old son will tell you, you don’t need to follow foreign policy debates to enjoy The Incredibles, though by the 10,000th time it might help.
what a good time this is to be a child. Not only is Jamie Oliver rescuing them from the evil machinations of the Turkey Twizzler, but their salad days coincide with a golden age of animation