Occasionally we get into conversations about the "best" superhero movie made since Richard Donner got the whole thing started in 1978 with Superman. Folks throw around your Spider-man 2, your X-men, your Batman Begins. But really, Brad Bird's computer-animated The Incredibles has to be near the top.
For one, it solves the paradox of the superhero movie. What is the paradox of the superhero movie, you ask? Well, that's what we at Film Club are here for, to answer your questions. The paradox goes like this: The comic book, from which most of the superhero films are derived, is the perfect form for adaptation to film. Film, the physical thing that one shines light through to make the pictures you watch in the theater, is almost identical to the panels you read in a comic book. Both are essentially a series of static images which, when viewed in sequence, produce the illusion of narrative motion. With a comic book, your mind provides the motion between the panels; with a film, a flickering light illuminates each panel (in negative form on a strip of celluloid) very quickly (24 frames per second) to impress in your mind the idea that the images are moving. In fact, many film-makers will make storyboards of scenes before they shoot them, and the storyboard is essentially a comic book.
And there it is -- you have a comic book with a rich visual tradition and content that focuses on heroes faced with persistent physical, emotional, and social challenges -- the perfect fodder for adaptation to film.
So, you ask, if the comic book is the perfect source for film material, why is it that so many superhero films are so ... well ... bad? And you may be thinking to yourself: Hulk, Fantastic Four, Catwoman (oh my, Catwoman).
Glad you asked. That's the paradox. Here's why: The other aspect of the superhero comic that film must contend with is its melodramatic mode. Once a character is established, for example, character development continues to occur only incrementally. Character is sort of like Clark Kent to plot's Superman, totally wimpy. This is not to say that characters like Peter Parker are bad; they are anything but. In the individual comic story, however, Peter Parker doesn't change or grow much. To be great, film needs strong character development.
Second, the plots themselves tend to revolve around exaggerated crises and resolutions. And when transferred to the more realistic genre of film (and most comic book heroes end up in live action films), it comes off looking, understandably, cartoonish. Now if you're on a steady diet of Star Wars movies, it's easy to look past this problem. But if you like even moderately more complex films, this melodramatic exaggeration can seem annoying after a while.
The Incredibles avoids the paradox. After all, it is a cartoon. And what makes it a wonderful film is the very stuff that many other superhero films fail at. It has great character development. Just look at Bob Parr sitting at the insurance agency where he works. The ironic juxtaposition of his hulking form in a tiny cubicle mirrors the conflict of his principles -- he wants to save mankind in its hour of need, not rip it off one poor soul at a time.
On the larger canvas, The Incredibles also challenges our hypocrisy about diversity. As a culture we struggle with inclusion and tolerance. We work hard to support and make room for the disadvantaged. The Incredibles turns this idea over, suggesting that we still need to work on inclusion of the abled and gifted. It's a subtle political message, but it raises the film above the usual superhero melodrama and good vs. evil conflect. (X-men, and its blatant metaphors of governmental fascism, homophobia, etc, does the same.)
Above all, The Incredibles remains fun, high quality entertainment. It's a movie you can watch over and over without tiring of it. And, to our minds, that is truly super.
R. Findlay
Film Club Adviser
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