The Incredibles

365 Films

Entry #138

The Incredibles (2004)

Directed by Brad Bird

During the unstoppable, dynastic run of Pixar (popular estimates place that run as existing between the years 1999 and 2010 with only one Cars film gumming up the works at that point even though Cars really isn't that bad), the forest was not at all discernible from the trees.  It was impossible to see the collection of cinematic output that these animation artisans were producing because every time a new film was released it was as if the company were on the verge of collapsing from within.  Every new gamble of their cinematic chips was an all or nothing proposition for the company and The Incredibles reeked of that exact description.  Directed by an outsider, writer/director Brad Bird had exactly nothing to do with any previous Pixar release and in fact had spent his formative years as a creative consultant for the early years of The Simpsons and the unfairly, prematurely terminated The Critic.  Granted, he had one animation directorial credit under his belt with The Iron Giant, but surely we can save that for a future blog post.  Sidebar:  I would say The Iron Giant was also under-appreciate in its day but that reputation, while being somewhat accurate, has certainly been restored by now to the classic it deserves to be.  Getting back to the matter at hand, Bird was a big question mark along with material that called for Pixar's first ever human being based cinematic endeavor, and there was probably some argle-bargle made about the guns featured and fired in the film.  Long story short, that's a lot of question marks for a film that is by design intended to be a mammoth, world-swallowing hit.  Quite luckily for Pixar, Bird turned out to be a more than capable hand with the material and the result is one of the most purely delightful films in the Pixar cannon.  At once demonstrating his affinity for the spy/super hero genre while at the same time deliriously sending them both up, Bird's film is most adequately described as an affectionate, dead-on satire.  Capably balancing the humorously mundane observations of middle-class suburban family life with an mind-bogglingly dazzling sense of cinematic action, The Incredibles remains to this day the standard to which all others must aspire.  It's a shame we couldn't also make it the last word on the subject, but I'd rather not open up that can of worms again.  Even if the film does leave an ever so slight Ayn Randian taste in the mouth (a charge, in his defense, Bird vehemently denies and I believe atoned for with Ratatouille), the film succeeds far beyond any political group claiming it as its own simply because it is a moving testament to the non-super powers inherent in the idea of family.  The most heart stopping moments in the film are when Bob and Helen realize that their children's safety might be beyond the reach of their own powers.  The most exhilaratingly "fuck yeah" sequences are when those children begin to realize their own power and utilize them with extreme prejudice.  The final action sequence, for example, succeeds not simply because it is a prime example of action story telling (which it is) but because of how much time Bird has spent luxuriating with these wonderfully flawed characters.  The real kick is watching everybody play their part and the care with which they fight for each other.  I'll wrap this up with emphasizing (if I haven't already done it enough) just how much a visual genius Brad Bird proved himself to be with this film.  The action sequences in this film are some of the best choreographed of the decade and it's a real shame more haven't taken to its principles.  Favoring spatial coherence over assaultive editing and bending over backwards to make sure every gag, stunt, and visual joke pays off, The Incredibles is nothing less than the work of master filmmakers.