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![]() ![]() ![]() That’s because they weren’t watching when, at the end of “The Incredibles,” he burst into flames-all too much for the baddie who was trying to abduct him at the time, and who found him too hot to handle. ![]() There is also Jack-Jack, the baby, about whom (and this is a typically smart piece of narrative engineering from Bird) we already know more than his family does. It’s ideal for Dash, whose permanent aim is to race around the river bend, as it were, and see what adventures await. (Her specialty is to vanish at will, or to shield herself inside an invincible bubble: every teen-ager’s dream.) Only the sound of the elder son, the high-speed Dash, has been updated his lines are now spoken, I rejoice to say, by a young actor named Huckleberry Milner. ![]() Nelson is still Bob, with his lumbering sigh, and Sarah Vowell, as their daughter Violet, still provides the pitch and yaw of adolescent speech-now tetchy, now timid, but touched here and there with a determination that might just save the day. Their voices, too, are mostly unchanged: Holly Hunter is still the shrewd and resourceful Helen, Craig T. It begins pretty much where the previous one left off, as if the characters had merely been staying put and holding their breath. It is fourteen years, would you believe, since we first made their acquaintance, in “The Incredibles,” one of the high spots in the history of Pixar, and now the writer and director of that delectable movie, Brad Bird, has returned with a second helping. He is strong and she is stretchy he is no more vexed by being pummelled by rocks than he would be by stubbing his toe, and she can flatten herself into a human pancake or, though normally waspish of waist, spread her torso into a handy parachute. Incredible-Helen to her friends-can love, cherish, and trampoline her husband, the brawny Bob, is because she is also, praise the Lord, Elastigirl. Incredible, in “Incredibles 2,” and I’m disappointed to report that the action in question is merely the manic pursuit of a gigantic drill that is whirring through a crowded city and demolishing everything in its path, rather than a lazy afternoon in the marital boudoir with the door discreetly shut. In the heat of the action, that is what Mr. As a rule, any marriage in which one partner can willingly cry out to the other, “Trampoline me!,” inspires only envy and awe. ![]()
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