Since the first days of silicon-inspired cinema, there has remained a distinct line between live-action and computer animated films.  Disney and Pixar have erased this line with WALL•E. This photorealistic fantasy of a solitary, near-silent robot in search of love and meaning to life is a filmmaking revolution by the studio partners, lifting the bar of emotional storytelling notches higher than their own previous and brilliant successes have already set it. WALL•E is a tread-spinning triumph of drama and comedy with a solar-powered silent movie star who will scoop up audiences' hearts and cube the entertainment value of any previous film this year. Assembling this tale of a lonely trash compactor with a heart, writer/director Andrew Stanton has built a bona fide cinematic classic which, like WALL•E himself, will charm and delight humans for generations to come.  WALL•E is the perfect marriage of technology and art which effortlessly dazzles and endears itself upon first sight.

As Andrew Stanton tells about the genesis of WALL•E, the basic concept arose from a storytelling question posed over lunch: "What if mankind had to leave Earth and somebody forgot to turn the last robot off, and he didn't know he could stop doing what he's doing?"  From that seed first planted in the Pixar braintrust including John Lasseter, Pete Docter and the late Joe Ranft, a simple yet touching story grew about an animated garbage-disposing robot literally discovers new life as enduring yet solitary as himself. 

WALL•E may only lift handfuls of trash for his existence, but he carries an entire film spanning the astronomic and emotional breadth of a galaxy.  His programming encodes the impeccable comic pratfall timing of silent film star Buster Keaton cross-referenced with Disney's best animated characters — an articulate R2-D2 with the best acting chops in the Milky Way.  

Indeed much of the film's opening offers little dialogue as WALL•E has no one on Earth to talk with save for his tiny cockroach companion who trades insect chirps with the bot's digital squeaks and beeps.  Yet from this wordlessness comes wonder and pure joy as the hapless droid, who has labored for centuries to clean up this trash-heap of a planet, continues to fall victim to his own curiosity in hilariously clever mishaps.  WALL•E's character is engaging from the opening frames, inspiring sympathy and laughter in audiences as if hard-wired directly to their hearts and funny bones.  No end of praise is due to sound designer and WALL•E voice-performer Ben Burtt, the audio wizard who enlivened the entire STAR WARS universe, for investing such rich emotions and feeling through a limited vocabulary of words and silicon soundbites.

As much as I utterly refuse to give away the story and all its whimsical joys, it's nearly impossible to describe how amazingly advanced WALL•E is compared to Pixar's excellent predecessors such as TOY STORY or FINDING NEMO (which Stanton co-wrote and wrote/directed, respectively).  Thanks to the brilliant sound and character design of Ben Burtt, freeing much of the film from dialogue which would otherwise tell what the astonishing animation shows, Stanton has made the purest, most cinematic Pixar film yet.  Be it the desolate, dusty wastelands of a forgotten Earth, or Eve and WALL•E's wondrous dance among the stars, Stanton fills the movie with many sequences of sheer cinematic poetry — sequences which exist for no other reason than to inspire imagination and engage feelings which could not be elicited with words.  This isn't simply great storytelling, it's grand filmmaking on a scale of visual and emotional splendor rarely attempted today.

Spending nearly half the film living with and through two oddly-matched robots, when humans and flowing dialogue finally appear in the film, these droids have redefined our own views of humanity and all its flaws.  I'll spare the spoilers, but suffice it to say that WALL•E has us seeing ourselves through his silicon-sensed perspective and the revelation unfolds with great comedic effect.  Sure, the film dotes on matters and messages about saving the environment, but it all flows through the conduits of character so both the humor and the point are never lost.  So involved and enamored have we become with Eve and WALL•E by this time, humans almost seem unnecessary in the story, a race of doughy extras superfluous to the plot and the planet they left behind.  Yet, the robots' romance would be incomplete without their combined passion for life which reminds humanity of its humanity.

This review can only scratch the surface of accolades due to the innumerable cast and crew who labored to create this masterpiece, but a start must include Burtt's voice-performing co-star, Elissa Knight — actually a Pixar employee, not an actress, who imbued Eve with her cool rebukes and lovestruck urgency.  Jeff Garlin (CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM) serves ably as the Captain of the starship Axiom, and Kathy Najimy (SISTER ACT) pairs up with Pixar-perennial John Ratzenberger (CHEERS) to expose the sillier side of humanity.  Comedy veteran Fred Willard plays Earth's pre-recorded leader, Shelby Forthright, a laughable corporate stooge who sold humankind on an interstellar escape plan from their own responsibility.  Sigourney Weaver rounds out the voice cast as the Axiom's computer system in a clever nod to the actress' prolific stint starring the the ALIEN film series, just one of the many cinematic inspirations for Stanton's film.

There are seemingly as many Pixar animators and technical gurus as there are stars in the heavens, but two contributors stand out for mandatory recognition: production design Ralph Eggleston for his jaw-dropping designs of this unique yet familiar futureworld, and Jason Deamer whose character art direction made the robotic duo so realistic and believable as acting creations.  Kudos to score composer Thomas Newman and songwriter Peter Gabriel for their distinctive musical contributions which create a melodic palette that matches the visual splendor of the story.

I have noted a trend as Pixar's films have advanced technically and dramatically, first becoming prominent in Pixar-fellow Brad Bird's THE INCREDIBLES and on through NEMO and most recently RATATOUILLE, that the artists and animators were steadily shrinking the line between computer imaging and live-action film.  Their presumed goal being not to envision and create their stories as 'just' animated films, but to conceive of these tales as artists would with any flesh-and-blood film with living breathing actors.  As those previous films marched toward that goal, WALL•E has crossed and surpassed the finish line — and will no doubt find planet-wide paydirt with theater audiences this summer! 

Perhaps the highest compliment I can pay Andrew Stanton and all his creative cohorts at Pixar is this: so enthralled and entertained was I by this film, I forgot it was animated at all.  The digital seams no longer show. No longer could the characters only be drawn on-screen, they now project outward from one's heart.  WALL•E truly represents a quantum leap in Pixar's filmmaking ability and vision, and perhaps the only thing more marvelous than watching it in theaters will be wondering how these soaring artists will top themselves next.  The squat and squeaking star of this film may utter few words in his debut, but certainly one of the words surrounding him in our immediate future will be Oscar.