Viv and I just got back from seeing The Incredibles (finally), and I won’t bore you with predictable rantings about its’ excellence. I will say, however, that word on a certain Randian subtext is clearly correct. Part of the film’s triumph is the remarkable fact that this did not provoke sneering on my part.

I certainly cannot wait for the DVD to begin savoring both the delicious production detail and the depth of interesting referents (such as Syndrome’s clear precursor, Heat Miser). The Parrs’ living room made me miss relatives and older friends who lived their lives in such mid-century modern homes.

I have only heard one brief comment that compared the film to Watchmen, but it seems clear that the relationship of the two stories should be closely examined. At a minimum, I would speculate that The Incredibles has made it that much harder to get a good version of Watchmen made as a film, if anyone is even trying anymore.

Oh, and apparently, I have a thing for lady superhero pilots. Hearing her issuing callsign update after callsign update somehow involved me in the jeopardy of that scene like no other aviation scene I’ve ever watched. And brother, I have watched some aviaton movies, let me tell you. The hell with Top Gun’s testosterone-addled nincompoops, I’ll take The Incredibles any day.