Pigs
in Space In
the future, garbage gets the better of us by
Jason Blair
WALL-E:
Written and directed by Andrew Stanton. Music, Thomas Newman. Featuring
the voices of Ben Burtt, Elissa Knight, Fred Willard, John Ratzenberger
and Sigourney Weaver. Walt Disney Pictures, 2008. G. 103 minutes.
Into the theater I strode nonchalantly, unprepared for the
enthusiasm with which the crowd awaited WALL-E. By now, we
expect great things from Pixar, even if last year’s deliriously
fun Ratatouille was preceded by a fun-guzzling jalopy, Cars.
For the current film, I could muster nothing more than indifference.
Perhaps the butchered, in-your-face phonics of WALL-E bespoke, to
my eyes, a letdown; perhaps the flagrant resemblance of WALL-E to
Number Five from Short Circuit distressed my finely-tuned
nostalgia. At any rate, not more than a few moments into WALL-E,
I could sense that the audience had better antennae than I did,
at least for G-rated fare, as their enthusiasm turned out to be
entirely well-founded.
In WALL-E, Earth is a foul, deserted place. Well, almost
deserted: The last resident of Earth, if you can call him that,
is WALL-E, a sweet, hardworking mobile garbage compactor. By day,
he packages mounds of garbage into blocks. By night, he retreats
to a makeshift garage where, with Hello, Dolly! running in
the background, he sorts the various trinkets he’s collected throughout
the day. WALL-E communicates his blue-collar persona so expertly
that, when he finds a diamond ring still in its case, he tosses
the ring and cherishes the case. All WALL-E is missing is a little
female companionship, something that descends one day in the sleek,
egglike Eve. Eve is a small, pure-white collector robot, as silly
and graceful as a penguin. While it’s not initially clear what she’s
after, she’s at least amused by WALL-E’s affection, which he demonstrates,
puppy-like, by running into everything as she scans each object
she encounters. She’s short-tempered. He’s a pushover. It’s a match
made in heaven.
Heaven, as it turns out, is the Axiom, a spaceship now encasing
the remainder of the human race. Once Eve discovers what she’s after,
she and WALL-E are whisked up to the Axiom, where the film, for
a brief period, takes a terrific turn: Just when you think WALL-E
is a tale of mismatched robot love, it introduces elements of The
Matrix and 2001: A Space Odyssey. As the state of the
human race is revealed, the raucous laughter in the theater grew
nervous and hesitant; I can’t remember that much tension in a Pixar
film since Sid tortured Buzz and Woody in Toy Story. Without
revealing too much, let’s jut say that after 700 years in space,
the human race has managed to forget what makes us human. Like physical
activity, for example.
WALL-E feels a little chaotic at times, particularly once
the droid pair reaches the Axiom, where they’re subjected to one
chase sequence after another. The film is all flashing lights and
whirring sirens for a while, and, well, the humanity goes out of
it. But WALL-E rebounds confidently as it confronts the possibility
of earthlings essentially repopulating a garbage dump. It’s going
to be a nasty job, and these are hardly the founding fathers, but
you have to admire our future relatives for trying. If slightly
uneven, WALL-E joins Ratatouille and Finding Nemo
as among the best films Pixar has created. It’s expertly written,
beautifully designed and boldly provocative.