AP Photo A scene from the animated film, "WALL-E."

In the 29th century, the lone residents of Earth are a solar-powered trash-compacting robot and his cockroach sidekick. Humans have flown away and pollution has choked vegetation and animal life.

What's also just about died off is entertainment value.

In the bleak yet beautiful world of Pixar's "WALL-E," there are just a couple of endless resources: preachiness and pretense. The film's environmentalist and anti-corporation forcefulness makes "An Inconvenient Truth" seem restrained by comparison.

No matter how right the messages are, the flat delivery doesn't serve them well. Nor does it help that "WALL-E" slogs at the pace of a driving-school video. It helps pass the time to just stare at the wondrous landscapes and glimmering animation.

Director Andrew Stanton ("Finding Nemo") is full of big ideas and artistic ambition, but can't quite keep the power cells from draining.

"WALL-E" is programmed more for critics and intellectuals than families looking to have a good time at the movies.

It may well be a rare animated film that will vie for a Best Picture Oscar nomination, but stacked alongside its Pixar predecessors at the Target DVD rack, it's probably the last one you'd want to bring home to watch again and again.

WALL-E (which stands for Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class) has the silent-clown sensibilities of Buster Keaton, the innocent frailty of E.T. and the obsessive stalking compulsion of Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction."

The hero-bot (voiced by Ben Burtt) falls bolts-over-processor for EVE (or Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator, voiced by Elissa Knight), a probe sent from afar. EVE, far more technologically advanced and powerful than her suitor, is indifferent toward WALL-E's romantic overtures but warms to his plucky spirit. Together they try to find and protect the last plant bud and take it to humans aboard a space colony to show them it's time to recolonize.

The introduction to the space society is flat-out breathtaking. Overweight, lazy people coast around in personal vehicles, their eyes glued to screens in front of their faces, only occasionally glimpsing out of the corners of their eyes at over-saturated ads from an all-controlling mega-conglomeration. Personal contact has been marginalized to the point where men coast obliviously side-by-side, arguing through their computers whether to hit the virtual golf links. It's a believable future.

Aboard the ship, WALL-E and EVE find that not all robots share their vision. A HAL 9000-like autopilot sees the duo as a threat to job security and violently undermines their efforts. The A.I. conflict evolves so slowly the robots all seem to be running on Windows Vista.

The most winning facet of the film is that the interaction between WALL-E and EVE is weirdly endearing, especially in the initial phases when the circuit-crossed lovers communicate with gestures and movements. Eventually they learn to say one another's names, and the desperate longing that WALL-E uses to mispronounce "EVE-aaah" is palpable.

Though "WALL-E" is no thrill ride, it at least stays true to its core themes. Stanton is attempting no less than rabble-rousing prophecy, scolding the blinded populace into changing its ways (even as an all-consuming megacorporation partners with the film, which spawns toys and wrappers that will end up in landfills).

The film poses as a thinking fan's animation, but there's little room for wonder or interpretation in the on-the-nose presentation.