‘Wall-E’: An inconvenient toon
It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity. — Albert Einstein
Waste Allocation Load Lifter-Earth Class — or simply “Wall-E” if you insist on being boring — is the mildewed, pseudo-literate robo-janitor of Pixar’s latest animated film of the same name. Though the sight of him is enough to induce warning signs of “TETANUS! TETANUS!,” Wall-E oozes with a disarming cute-ness too irresistible to ignore. I guess it’s only right that this rusty little robot is such an epitome of charm, since the first 40 minutes of dialogue-less, post-apocalyptic scenes might have been too much to take without watching Wall-E contentedly hatch perfect squares of trash all over the place.
Before I go any further — yes, Wall-E can be classified as a gloom-and-doom film along the likes of I Am Legend, A.I. and An Inconvenient Truth. The only difference is how Wall-E relates humanity’s extinction in a decidedly G-rated, kid-friendly way. Did I not say that Pixar was brilliant? Using adorable computer-generated characters to send a message of ecological doom to young children everywhere… You’ve got to hand it to creator Andrew Stanton. He defies the old adage of “keeping-children-in-the-dark-about-depressing-current-events-until-later” by introducing Wall-E.
In any case, though Wall-E may be an environmental parable in its most un-preachy form, viewers can’t deny the unmistakable Disney trademark of cheesy, sigh-inducing romance. Wall-E is another sparkling entry in the “love conquers all” genre, as seen through the unlikely romance between two household appliances… er, robots. If I were to illustrate this metaphorically, Wall-E would be the lowly, bumbling janitor who inadvertently falls in love with Eve, the sexy, sophisticated scientist with arson-ish tendencies. In retrospect, Wall-E can also be thought of as the stirring love story between a recycling bin and an iPod. It’s also interesting to note how Wall-E learns the ways of courtship and square dancing through reruns of Hello, Dolly! But I digress.
Like any normal end-of-the-world saga with romantic overtones, Wall-E eventually reveals the fact that there are still humans out there. And I do mean “out there.”
After 40 minutes, humans are interestingly introduced as obese, lumbering babies of adult-sized proportions, who live in outer space aboard a floating cosmic cruise-liner thing. We are effectively too fat to do anything but lounge on mobile La-Z-Boys, talk to holographic versions of ourselves, order robot vassals around, and try the latest soft drinks recommended (dictated) by Big Brother.
Now where in contemporary society have I heard that before?
Though these post-apocalyptic versions of us are as cute as they are useless, I can’t help but applaud
In one of the film’s more poignant moments, we witness the floating cosmic-cruise-liner thing’s overweight Captain defiantly proclaim to his mutinous auto-pilot, “I don’t want to survive, I want to live!” A wise prescription for the present, if I do say so myself. And with that lovely, cliché line, I end this article.
Just kidding.
Of course, Wall-E ends on a happy note. You can’t possibly spell “Disney” without “happy,” after all. (Humor me on this one.) Yes, the final scenes depicting green earth and pizza-plant harvesting ambitions do convey an optimistic tone. But as supposedly intelligent viewers, we should be able to evaluate the reel and real messages conveyed by the movie. At the heart of Wall-E is the paradox of how products and technology are relegated to slaves of man — if we are not enslaved by them first.
