Heroes Welcome

They may be Incredibles, but they're also wonderfully normal.

The Incredibles
Got his game face on: The formerly invincible Bob - relives the glory days.
Got his game face on: The formerly invincible Bob relives the glory days.
Myriad filmmakers have attempted in vain to film Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons' Watchmen, a comic book in which costumed superheroes have been outlawed and are being summarily exiled and executed by an unknown baddie. At the moment, Darren Aronofsky (Pi) is set to direct a screenplay by X-Men scribe David Hayter for release next year, but no one has yet been cast; it's unlikely to arrive on time -- or at all. But perhaps there is no need for a Watchmen movie at this late date, not when Pixar, of all places, now offers its own Technicolor take on the bleak superhero tale: The Incredibles, the darkest feel-good fable thus far spun by the makers of toy stories and fish tales aimed at kiddies who play with dolls and the parents who buy them.

The Incredibles, written and directed by Brad Bird (The Iron Giant, a masterpiece without the box-office to show for it), is a hybrid of several sources: James Bond movies, the angst-ridden pop-camp comics of 1960s Marvel (especially The Fantastic Four, a forthcoming movie now also rendered moot), the Spy Kids movies, and Saturday-morning cartoons starring super friends and other costumed hangers-on. But its main influence would appear to be Watchmen, which was among the first comics to wonder about the private and often troubled lives of heroes, once they shed their Spandex skins and resume their secret identities. They rendered the myths almost mortal -- flawed, troubled human beings who became heroes not because they were noble or generous, but merely because they liked to flex their muscles. (Or they were megalomaniacs. Or just plain nuts.) Still, they talked like us, bled like us, and loved like us, and you could almost imagine these heroes as next-door neighbors going off to their day jobs, which often involved saving the world from Armageddon.

In The Incredibles, that's precisely what they are: Bob Parr (voiced by Craig T. Nelson) is little more than an insurance salesman helping poor clients leap through loopholes in their restrictive contracts; you're in really good -- and really strong -- hands with this guy. Bob used to be known as the invincible Mr. Incredible -- until the government outlawed superheroes when the public turned on them, damning them as nuisances. Bob and his wife, Helen, once known as Elastigirl (and voiced by Holly Hunter), have gone into the superhero-relocation program, along with their speedster son, Dash (Spencer Fox), and disappearing daughter, Violet (NPR commentator Sarah Vowell). Among the other banished heroes is Lucius Best, aka Frozone (Samuel L. Jackson), the coolest of all heroes, who has the ability to freeze anything, as long as there's moisture in the air.

Bob, his hair receding and his gut expanding, is itching to get back in the hero biz; he'd rather punch villains than clocks. He and Lucius have even taken to surreptitiously listening to a police scanner, in search of the late-night adventures they've been denied. This doesn't sit well with Helen, who's stretched thin, as it were, trying to pretend hers is a normal family. "Reliving the glory days is better than pretending they didn't happen at all," Bob shouts at Helen, after one of their myriad arguments. When there are no bad guys left to fight, Bob and Helen do battle with each other, and it's to Bird's inestimable credit that in his second animated feature he doesn't reduce the Parrs to cartoon characters. Their disappointments are familiar; so, too, are their longings to be seen as something more special than suburban statistics.

Bob, whose home office is decorated from floor to ceiling with remnants and reminders of his crime-fighting days, is rescued from his funk by an invitation to don the super-suit once again in order to destroy a rampaging robot. With the chance to use his powers, he's born again -- so much so that Helen starts to believe Bob's having an affair, what with his newfound smile and penchant for disappearing at odd hours. But as it turns out, Bob is being set up by a new villain, who was once an old acolyte: a creep named Syndrome (Jason Lee), who once idolized Mr. Incredible but was sent packing by the hero, who claimed to prefer working alone. Syndrome has been killing off heroes, making his way toward Mr. Incredible to settle an old score; he'd like it even better if he gets the chance to off Bob's superfamily, too.

This is all grim, grown-up stuff, but Bird keeps it from sinking into the depressing muck. He prefers the sweet to the sour, as evidenced in The Iron Giant, about a lonely little boy finding a father figure in a kindly 100-foot-tall robot from outer space. Bob easily fits into the Pixar pantheon of would-be daddies trying to find the time for family; he's Sulley from Monsters, Inc. , or Marlin from Finding Nemo, one more lovable lunk looking out for his children in a terrifying world. Yes, yes -- The Incredibles is beautiful to look at, but it's even more lovely beneath the computer-generated surfaces. Bird's is just a different kind of fairy tale, one with its roots in the modern-day comic book, in which the invincible can be hurt and the super are just ordinary after all.

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