The powerful, compassionate advocacy of Wall-E

This weekend has been one of movie-watching in the Bagley household. The fact that I was able to catch two of the feature films on my to-see list had much to do with the lack of much security at Atlanta's movie theaters. If you notice, some kid (usually) checks your ticket as you enter the theater and directs you toward the appropriate screen. But these struggling theater companies can nary afford to pay someone to stand in the door of each individual screen, checking tickets. And the other employees, whose duties are limited to concession-stand operator and floor-sweeper, surely have no stake in whether people step into a movie for which they haven't payed. Plus, let's not forget that even white folks like myself, who are aware of white privilege and seek, politically at least, to blunt its effects, are the beneficiaries of the famous privilege and generally don't seek to avoid its perks: nobody is going to suspect a well-dressed couple of white yuppies of sneaking into Wall-E without paying, and, even if they did, they're not likely to confront us. So, we were able to see both Wanted and Wall-E. Both were good, but the latter was a stroke of genius.

My beef with previous Pixar efforts has been their noisy, garish quality, something that, for me at least, made Finding Nemo intolerable. I found that film to be far too frenetic in pace, every scene involving several characters frantically yelling at one another, while a shark or something else chased them around at very fast speeds. It was mentally exhausting and obnoxious. For this reason, I tend to avoid Pixar films (or any kid-targeted computer-animated feature), so, of course, I had no interest in Wall-E. Until, that is, I heard reports from numerous friends and acquaintances, each of whom I know to have discerning and mature tastes in both politics and arts, that Wall-E was very good. I was especially interested in the claim that the film served as an indictment of America's consumer culture. Surely these friends had overblown Wall-E's critical qualities, I thought. But I was taken aback both by the film's measured pace and pleasant aesthetic, and the brilliance (and compassion) of its commentary on American culture.

From an aesthetic standpoint, Wall-E's riskiest move--it's overall lack of speaking parts--was also its greatest asset. The filmmakers told the majority of the story in near pantomime (robots don't talk, naturally), allowing the action of the film and the expressiveness of the character's faces (while not talking, the robots do possess extremely expressive "faces" and make "sad" and "happy" drone-like noises) to guide the viewer through the narrative. The result is that the film avoids any risk of cheesy dialogue or the infinite pop-culture references that infect so many animated films (see Shrek). Plus, there is room for a scene like the beautiful "dance" between hero Wall-E and his sleek, iMac-inspired (so much for no pop culture references) love interest "Eva." In that scene, the two robots shoot through space in a mathematically perfect, choreographed routine, twisting and intertwining between one another, leaving traces of bright color behind them, forming intricate patterns against the black canvas of space. The two characters' "love" is expressed in colors and sounds and shapes, with no need for any extraneous, inevitably stilted, verbal expression. Plus, because the film doesn't need language to tell its story, there is little to no need for translation for foreign audiences.

The real brilliance of Wall-E, however, lies in the power and compassion of its environmentalist message. The film depicts a world some 800 years in the future, in which the earth has become so overcome with garbage as to be uninhabitable, and all remaining humans have left the planet by way of an enormous spaceship, where they are pampered (and controlled by) an automated team of robots. Humans are governed by the "global CEO" of a corporation called "Buy N' Large" (or "BNL," an obvious reference to the "big box" companies like Wal-Mart that control the supply of commodities to an ever-increasing number of Americans). The ship, called the "Axiom," has been in space for 700 years, and BNL's attempt to clean up the garbage with a group of trash-compacting robots (of which Wall-E is one) have failed. What was, ostensibly, intended to be a temporary vestige into space has become a permanent colony, earth's life-sustaining properties being entirely depleted. All of the humans now on the space craft have become enormously obese, spending their days on floating vehicles, chatting, surfing the web, and playing "virtual" sports, while eating "meals in a cup," supplied by BNL's team of robots.

While the film could have taken the opportunity to ridicule and point an accusing finger at the obese denizens of the Axiom, it instead looks to these individuals with compassion and a bit of sympathy. Most of them, by this point, are barely aware of their earthly origins, having known nothing but BNL and the sedentary, virtual existence of the Axiom their entire lives. There is one scene in which the film shows the ship's children being educated by a BNL robot, which teaches them lessons like "A is for Axiom, your wonderful home," "B is for BNL, the provider of your home," etc. At their core, these individuals have maintained a sense of human morals, as revealed by their physically pitiful attempt to help Wall-E to save a tiny plant that is the human race's last connection to the planet Earth. These fat, pathetic people aren't inherently wicked; rather, they are the descendants of those who made a terrible mistake, and it's not too late for them to learn from that mistake and create something new. In the film's finale, in which the ship's captain overcomes the artificial intelligence that forbids the ship from returning to Earth, and the humans return to their planet, newly aware of their corporate overlords and their obligation to start anew, we are left with a sense that, despite tremendous errors, we may yet redeem ourselves and thrive.

By painting the denizens of the Axiom in a compassionate light, Wall-E accomplishes the difficult goal of criticizing America's consumer culture without pointing an accusatory, isolating finger at those who have become that culture's most obvious indulgers. In this way, Wall-E paints a frank portrait of our culture's excesses, while adhering to the moral principle to treat all people, even those who we blame for our society's failings, with love and compassion. More importantly, perhaps, the film provides a rare opportunity for coalition-building, one in which those who have come to understand the nature of our biggest mistakes open their arms and embrace those whose ignorant has led them to become the biggest victims of those mistakes. It is messages like these that we most need to pull ourselves out of the burgeoning crisis of overconsumption and begin to work toward a healthier tomorrow.