Nowadays, if someone so much as utters the phrase “superhero film,” you are bound to hear at least one person sigh. A genre that reached heights that no one anticipated is now at an all-time low of enjoyment levels, with many of us feeling the infamous “superhero fatigue.”

Whilst the genre has been prevalent for decades, the early 2000s saw the genre shift to revive itself with films like The Dark Knight (2008), Iron Man (2008), and Watchmen (2009). However, before those films came to be, there was the animated feature-length film The Incredibles (2004). Twenty years on, it remains one of the most formative films of many people’s childhoods and arguably up there as one of the best superhero films to date. 

With its release came adoration and accolades, becoming the fourth highest-grossing film of that year, winning an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature, and earning the title of the highest-selling DVD of 2005. The praise, fourteen years later, even garnered a sequel. There is a certain air of magic surrounding its longevity and this begs the question of why it has been able to stand the test of time.

This magic comes from the art of building a compelling counterpart to the story’s protagonists, the perfect villain. Enter Buddy Pine (Jason Lee), a ten-year-old Mr. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson) fanboy who nicknamed himself Incrediboy after his idol. This infatuation manifested eccentrically in an encounter with Mr. Incredible himself. Not being super himself, he truly believed that he could be Mr. Incredible’s sidekick.

By presenting Buddy as a young innocent child who only wants to be like his idol, the audience cannot help but feel sorry for him when Mr. Incredible so ruthlessly rejects him by saying that he “works alone.” His cold demeanor and hubris are well-established weaknesses displayed by Mr. Incredible. An imperfect protagonist met with an endearing not yet realized antagonist is what made this film work as well as it did, making Buddy’s descent into his supervillain persona Syndrome fifteen years later justified.

Syndrome became a wealthy weapons designer whose obsession with supers (especially his former hero) festered into Operation Kronos. He aimed to test his latest weapon, the Omnidroid, on supers (that killed some of them in the process) to create a faux threat that he would “defeat” using his weapons. These weapons would then be sold so that everyone could become super.

For a film with a target demographic of young children, Brad Bird does not oversimplify these complex dynamics, particularly between Syndrome and the Incredibles family. It balances a fine line between being entertaining for the children watching and presenting real vindictive malice that engrossed parents–specifically with the phrase menacingly uttered by Syndrome to the family, “and when everyone’s super, no one will be.”

This powerful dialogue can be reflective of the saturation of superhero films and TV shows over the past twenty years. It is almost as if when the majority of the box office became dominated by this genre, its novelty and interest faded. It could be said that The Incredibles has had this subliminal messaging of individuality being a superpower that should be championed. In the context of cinema, this can be translated to continuously telling unique stories and perspectives to audiences across the world.

Retrospective Courtesy of Nandita Joshi

Feature Image Credit to Pixar and Walt Disney Studios