The Incredibles tech is hot trash
An exercise in pragmatic decision-making and storytelling
In case you missed it, the official teaser trailer for the upcoming Incredibles sequel dropped over the weekend and audiences are hyped. It has piled up more than 20 million views in 5 days, and many moviegoers (including this writer) are already planning to buy tickets. The original was released 13 years ago and it remains arguably the greatest superhero movie of all time. Unlike many films that attempt to deify their protagonists, the heroes in this film are unapologetically human. They get bored, they mope, and they dream of something better. The film has plenty of spectacular scenes — middle child, Dash, running across water; Frozone gracefully skating across highways of ice; even Edna Mode’s temple-inspired work studio — but the film is emotionally effective because it’s rooted in normal interactions. It’s Bob feeling powerless at work and Helen embracing her children as missiles close in on her plane. For that reason we can see these heroes as candidates for usability testing just like you and me.
Historically, the tech in superhero movies is groundbreaking. When playing in the same genre as the Batmobile, the Iron Man suit, and — for all intents and purposes — every James Bond gadget ever used, you’re in the playground of the most creative and genius billionaires in the universe. However the inventions in the Incredibles, for the most part, are underwhelming. GPS trackers are controlled by a single button, Syndrome’s TV remote is controlled by a single button, and Syndrome’s civilization-destroying robot is controlled by a wristband with three buttons, making it presumably three time more complicated than the aforementioned devices.
The closest the Incredibles get to Tony Stark’s or Lucius Fox’s lab is Edna Mode’s workshop and her character is intentionally excessive. Her garbage cans double as incinerators, her gate is lined with lasers and she requires a passcode, handprint, eye scan, and vocal sample to enter her shop. Her character is coated with a thick layer of satire and is therefore difficult to critique. We can, however, shred the interfaces that appear to genuinely try to impress.
Mirage ignores flat interface guidelines
What it is: Mirage sends an automated message that begins playing as soon as it scans and identifies its recipient. The message is tablet-based, but the device explodes after the message is completed.
What works: Predicts the invention of the iPad AND the future face scanning tech used by the iPhone. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw this clip as the keystone argument in the future IP case between Pixar and Apple.
What doesn’t work: Tries to translate a three-dimensional experience to a two-dimensional platform by shifting the image depending on the tablet angle. This ignores every flat interface guideline and creates a horrifically nauseating experience. If this isn’t enough, the device also explodes after one use. **Insert Samsung Galaxy Note 7 joke**
Mr. Incredible’s car provides good but not great information
What it is: A dashboard that shows Mr. Incredible’s proximity to a nearby police chase. The dashboard can reroute the driver if emergencies appear en route to the target destination.
What works: The location proximity and rerouting features make this interface remarkably similar to services like Uber Pool and Lyft Line. Automated driver will prevent crashes as you change outfits and watch the screen.
What doesn’t work: I’m now holding it to same interface standards as Uber and Lyft and it is not meeting the benchmarks. Where’s my route? Can I see street traffic? Do I have the option to reject a “rider” in my path? Do I have ETAs for different stops? This is trash, Pixar.
I’d expect the 2018 sequel to exhibit a more dynamic interface. It can take cues from Google Maps and will spotlight different crimes in a city with icons that fade with the age of the crime. The user can spotlight specific crimes, select the quickest route towards the sirens, or modify their path to cross other crimes along the way. You can filter your map to only show specific crimes and track the suspects get-away if you choose to.
What it is: A lock screen to the villain’s computer.
What works: This is definitely the most dramatic desktop setup I’ve ever seen. Find me another football-field sized screen in a volcano anywhere before we even consider having a debate about this.
What doesn’t work: Ignoring the lack of functionality in this enormous desktop (it’s essentially a glorified powerpoint) or the LITERAL FIREWALL that guards it let’s simply focus on the simplistic design of the login screens.
No username? No email address? No checkbox to remember my password for future logins? Just “PASSWORD_” and I don’t even get a field to enter it in? These screens are almost comparable to a MacBook’s lock screen, but displaying my password on a stadium-sized monitor for everybody to see? What sort of security is that? Where’s my instruction leading me to the next page? Am I allowed to include lowercase in my password or are we all onboard with six capitalized characters? C’mon, Syndrome. I’m guessing an unfriendly UI is the last line of defense to the gladiatorial design iterations documented in this database.
I know I can’t be super critical of a PG film from 2004, but the Kronos snippet allows me to be a little critical. Simplicity is a core principle in both storytelling and design and this reference to the Greek Titan famous for killing his own father is nothing but gratuitous. We see “Kronos” scrawled across the wall of a cave (an inconvenient alternative to writing your password on a post-it and leaving it in a drawer) and on this login screen and never again. The dumb cave scene is simply a setup for the equally dumb login page. If this article accomplishes nothing else, I’d like for it to reach Brad Bird just so he knows this part of the film still irks me.
Here’s hoping we see more contemporary login screens in the 2018 sequel.
Conclusion
While it’s important to shred lazy animation, it’s equally important to focus on why flawed tech doesn’t ruin this movie.
Simplistic animation doesn’t derail this movie because utility trumps aesthetic. In this context, utility can be quantified in narrative value. Most of the products in this film are designed as props rather than devices and are therefore successful. Take those aforementioned single-button examples.
The GPS tracker only needs one button because it only does one thing. It’s objective is to locate Bob as quickly as possible and it accomplishes that in one click. Furthermore, the audience KNOWS what will happen when that button is clicked so there’s an added element of suspense when we watch Helen’s thumb hover above it. This scene is effective because of its pacing. We’d lose that if Helen were scrolling through different screens to select a specific family member.
Similarly, there’s Syndrome’s remote. The villain flips through the channels to confirm they’re all showing his manufactured disaster. The device changes the channel but the scene shows the world is in danger. Within the context of the narrative, the device is so inconsequential it’s almost easier to imagine a scene without it than a more detailed version. A single button shows just enough — Syndrome’s completing a task to achieve a result (clicking a button to change the channel) — without distracting from the objective of the scene.
It’s important to keep the tech unimpressive from a narrative perspective because we’re rooting against it this entire film. Syndrome is the Iron Man parallel — a wealthy genius made powerful by his own inventions — and he’s the super villain. The Incredibles tech isn’t breathtaking because it will always play second fiddle to the natural ability of our protagonists.
So one could argue there’s no need to make interfaces warm or inviting if the tech is actively vilified, but I’ll continue to push for my modified login screens. Even volcano desktops should provide experiences that delight.
