MEGAMIND. Bold and inventive work [REVIEW]

Megamind is not the best superhero film. It does, however, feel like one of the most original: refusing to follow tried-and-tested narrative formulas and exploring areas untouched by productions bearing the DC or Marvel logo. Even when compared to Pixar’s The Incredibles or Disney’s Big Hero 6, which represent the same subgenre, DreamWorks’ animation emerges as a more accomplished and narratively daring work. Superhero cinema has always relied on a very familiar code for audiences: a sharp division between good and evil immediately shows us who to identify with and who to root for. The stakes of the conflict are always prosperity and safety—of a family, a city, a nation, or the universe itself. The undeniable dramatic weight is dressed in a spectacular visual costume—deliberately deployed spectacle and pathos. The skeletal structure of the genre is the endlessly repeated origin story. Don’t get me wrong: I still consider it a brilliant formula that has already delivered many outstanding productions. This is only a shorthand, a deliberate exaggeration meant to highlight the innovative qualities of Megamind.

DreamWorks, however, begins in an almost overly predictable way. As an infant, Megamind is placed in a capsule by his parents and launched into space due to an unspecified cataclysm on his home planet. Only swift evacuation offered a chance of survival. Of course, this is the same canonical path taken by young Kal-El, later known as Superman. Megamind lands safely on Earth, and his period of acclimatization begins. Everything might have developed normally had he not accidentally ended up in prison as a child. Instead of growing up to be a good citizen, he is raised to become a future criminal—a particularly dangerous villain, endowed with above-average intelligence and cunning. And as comic-book convention demands, the protagonist naturally gains a worthy adversary: Metro Man, adored by the citizens of Metro City. Like Megamind, Metro Man is not of earthly origin, but fate was far kinder to him: his cosmic capsule landed under the Christmas tree of a wealthy couple in a cozy suburban home.

Megamind introduces several significant shifts in comparison to established genre conventions, most notably by adopting the perspective of the villain, the antihero. This is an unusual approach, even within family cinema, which DreamWorks’ production clearly belongs to. The director succeeds in giving Megamind a fascinating character dimension by infusing him with a certain childlike innocence. He isn’t interested in terrorizing Metro City’s residents, stealing, or unleashing catastrophes; instead, he craves rivalry with Metro Man and the fun of tinkering with his latest gadgets. Escaping from ever more secure prison cells becomes another kind of playful diversion. His duels with Metro Man are the very meaning of his life. By harming no one else—only plotting against his eternal rival—Megamind can paradoxically earn the viewer’s sympathy.

Metro Man himself is an intriguing character: a flying, perfectly built hero in a white cape with an outsized ego. He delights in showing off, courting adoration, posing for photos, and promoting the statues, sculptures, and museums erected in his honor. He seems to protect the city less out of altruism and more to reinforce his self-image as irreplaceable. He fits the role of a showman—a borderline unbearable poser. Metro Man does not inspire trust but irritation and distaste. Yet he is not one-dimensional, and his storyline may surprise more than once. The creators therefore manage to subvert comic-book convention on two levels: by shifting narrative weight to the antagonist and by playfully revaluing the two main characters.

Perhaps the most fascinating part of the film comes when Megamind seizes control of the city after defeating Metro Man. It is the scenario he had dreamed of all his life. But he quickly discovers that the rivalry was as essential to him as air. Without an opponent, Megamind grows painfully bored. Sitting in the city hall surrounded by gold and wealth, he sees no purpose. He behaves like a child deprived of toys in the sandbox. His only skill—creating elaborate traps for Metro Man—suddenly feels meaningless. Guilt and nostalgia begin to creep in. He even brings flowers to the monuments of the vanquished hero, reminiscing about the old days.

Meanwhile, the city seems to function just fine—its residents were never really victims of Megamind. Beyond the clever humor derived from boredom, silence, and the awkwardness of nothing happening, this situation also offers a sharp diagnosis of the essence of superhero stories, whose dynamism relies on the clash of two extraordinary, mutually hostile figures (think Batman and Joker, and the list could go on forever). What if one of them were removed? Could such a scenario even be considered? The creators provide an answer—likely satisfying the imagination of many comic book fans.

Megamind is a bold and inventive work: offering a rare perspective on a familiar genre convention, dismantling the overused narrative skeleton from within, while also delivering layered psychological portraits and intriguing plot twists. Though undeservedly forgotten today, Megamind remains one of DreamWorks’ greatest artistic triumphs.