The faces and bodies of the Parr family are expressive, too--wildly so, since they belong to cartoon characters--but may perhaps be enjoyed best when you don't think about their politics.

The pleasure comes just from seeing them work. As created by writer-director Brad Bird (The Iron Giant) and realized by the animators at Pixar, the Parrs are the magically crafted central figures of The Incredibles: Mom, Dad and three kids living in a modest 1960s Moderne house in the suburbs and trying not to let on that they possess superpowers. In the old days, in the big city, father Bob was famous as the heroic Mr. Incredible, and mother Helen was almost equally celebrated as the crime-fighting Elastigirl. Now, as it happens, they have to conceal their abilities, as do their children--until duty calls, as it must.

"Whiz," "bang" and "gee" are the words that first come to mind, as the stretch-suited Parrs zoom off for battle on an island fortress that could have belonged to a nemesis of James Bond, had any of them hired designers half as clever. The setttings in The Incredibles are endlessly inventive, the action exuberant, the laughter frequent and the characters a bottomless toy box of delights. Students of animation history have been suggesting that Bird and Pixar have developed the first truly engaging human cartoon characters. I cannot comment on the technical side of 3D computer animation; but, setting aside my longstanding affection for Elmer Fudd, I will agree that cartoon people have rarely been so much fun.

The reason, according to Bird, is that the Parrs' strange talents are rooted in normal family traits. Fathers are supposed to be strong, so Bob can bench-press a freight engine. Mothers are always being pulled ten ways at once, so Helen is elastic. Young Violet can become invisible, as teenage girls sometimes want to do, and Dash is just a wonderfully energetic little boy, ratcheted up to 200 mph.

Bird's biggest achievement in The Incredibles is to have inflated family stereotypes to parade-balloon size. His failing is that, in so doing, he also confirmed these stereotypes, and worse. Helen mouths one or two semi-feminist wisecracks but readily gives up her career for a house and kids; women are like that. Bob's buddy Frozone, the main nonwhite character in the movie, can instantly create ice; black people are cool. The superheroes are in hiding because greedy trial lawyers sued them into retirement; and, while concealed, they chafe at their confinement, like Ayn Rand railing against enforced mediocrity.

The family is the foundation of our society. Freedom is on the march.

Light in the Darkness: I join with all cinephiles in welcoming the Museum of Modern Art's Department of Film and Video back to its renovated home on New York's West 53rd Street. A world innovator when it was founded in 1935, the department continues to lead the way with an inaugural, seventy-five-work series titled "Premieres." It opens to the public on November 21 with the world premiere of Jean-Luc Godard's Moments choisis des Histoire(s) du cinéma. Information: www.moma.org.

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