Trust Pixar to follow up a masterpiece with another. Just when you thought last year’s delectable class act Ratatouille was the apex of their consistently glowing output, along comes Wall·E, a tour de force of animation that astounds for how effortless it all seems. But if Wall·E is not quite perfect, it’s only because the near-silent initial half of the film is so flawless, daring, and masterfully conceived in a way that few contemporary animated features are, that the cat-and-mousey final stretch comes across as more conventional and demographic-pandering. It’s still awfully fun though. The CGI animation sets a new bar for utter heart-bursting gorgeousness: has there been a dystopian landscape more bleakly beautiful than the one rendered here? Then there’s the wordless, highly physical storytelling that harks back to the early 20th century silents of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, and makes the chemistry between Wall·E and EVE so lovely and delightfully universal. Enriched by Burtt’s wonderful voice-work, which instils digital bleeps with musical warmth, the enchanting, nimbly timed performance of Wall·E – whether he’s playing klutz, inquisitive kid or hopeless romantic – is a profoundly human creation, essential to the film’s emotional centre.