The fact that Wall•E is a delightful little movie for the whole family wouldn’t surprise anyone at this point. It’s always a dicey claim to make, but when you have a track record like Pixar’s, it’s hard not to expect at least a sensational command of storytelling and magic. By now, it almost seems like these guys have their own standards of quality and a deep understanding of what they want to achieve in their films. While their competitors trail behind with cheap pop culture crowd pleasers, Pixar hold themselves responsible to make sure that they keep on pushing boundaries, both in technology and artistry. Between you and me, taking account both aspects, Wall•E might just be their best. Okay, I know—that’s a tall order. Hardcore Toy Story 2 and Finding Nemo enthusiasts can jig down to the octagon to squeeze out the answer, but let’s put it this way: Wall•E is easily Pixar’s most ambitious and impressive to date.
Set on a filthy brown Earth 800 years in the future, our Wall-E (Waste Allocation Load Lifter, Earth-class) is the only sentient being in the world aside from his pet cockroach. Humans have deserted Earth altogether to live on a giant spaceship called The Axiom (an apt name, given how the project was developed by the Buy N’ Large corporation—something of a cross between Wal-Mart and Virgin—seemingly taking over and replacing the government with a corporate entity). As Wall-E performs his daily task of cubing and stacking garbage into tall skyscrapers, it becomes apparent that he’s an anomaly with human tendencies, collecting trashed trinkets he finds worthy of saving. Wall-E’s been doing this for 700 years, not knowing any better, while other Wall-E units break down and die. Enamored by the romance in a surviving copy of Gene Kelly’s musical Hello, Dolly! that he watches daily, the curious robot longs for his own romance... Eventually falling for another robot, Eve, who one day arrives on Earth with a classified directive. The way director Andrew Stanton portrays their relationship recalls great Charlie Chaplin romances (especially City Lights)—with Wall-E perfectly aping the slapstick tramp routine—made more apparent by the fact that the robots don’t talk.
The unabashed environmentalist recycling message that drives Wall•E’s plot sounds preachy, but it’s really not. Sure, the entire thing hinges on this idea that trees, the sea and the blue sky are all better than convenient indoor facilities, but Wall•E’s potent observation regarding the abandonment of the Earth has more to do with human evolution than ecology. It’s not a sentimental “Save the Earth” lecture that elevates our planet’s importance beyond what it is: Home. When the Axiom’s captain rediscover the rich history of Earth from a computer, it’s not just nature that captivates him, but culture as well. Culture that doesn’t involve shopping centers and consumer trends. No wonder the only Axiom residents we get to see are fat white Americans. It’s not insensitivity: it’s a deliberate critique.
In Wall•E’s world, we learn that 800 years in the future, the human race had gotten so lazy that they’ve devolved into boneless obese blobs floating on mechanized chairs, their every whim catered to by robots and their existence dedicated to the illusion of comfort. It’s no wonder that Fred Willard, appearing in live-action as the Buy N’ Large President, mentions “staying the course” as the preferred option to devising an actual solution to the garbage crisis (remind you of anyone currently holding a position of power? Entirely intentional). Effort? That cuts in on lounging time.
We find Stanton’s main beef via this world he’s created in the way human interaction is limited to video chats between chairs. A world where even the simplicity of looking at each other belong to days long gone. When Stanley Kubrick made 2001: A Space Odyssey, he gave us a definitive take on human evolution and our ability to utilize tools. Wall•E contains many a-references to 2001 (the most blatant? The main villain of the movie is HAL9000, pretty much) for a reason: it follows similar thoughts, almost as if Wall•E was made to relay 2001 to little kids. The famous bone scene from 2001 where monkeys discover their first tool is mirrored (not parodied) here when a human adult uses his legs for the first time in his life.
Just like Kubrick’s masterpiece, Pixar’s notes that our misappropriation of technology subdues the human potential. Wall•E isn’t just a great family film, it’s also the best kind of science fiction. It’s astounding how cleverly they tie this into the simple love story between Wall-E and Eve, by pointing out the irony of robots yearning for the most basic of human emotions while humans gladly substitute it for gadgets. How Wall-E expresses his love—by simply holding hands—is so universal and instinctively sweet that you’d believe a robot could have romance, and that such a feeling could very well be the most important tool of all.
Kinda sad when a director doesn't ...