The truth is all in the eyes. In moments of grinding routine and isolation, they stare beyond objects with a seeming sense of longing, like those of an emotional being displaced from the intimacy of interaction. Clips from a movie musical play over a small screen inside a metal shack, and he gazes at them not just with perplexity or wonderment, but also with a slanted brow that suggests untapped desire. How he came to possess these sensations is guesswork in a story unburdened with the formality of comprehensive setup, but this much is clear: the robotic creature at the center of Pixar’s “Wall-E” is something very special, and for 98 minutes moviegoers are not so much witnessing his antics as they are projecting his values into their own existence, and finding resonance in the notion that life, perhaps, really can be simplified into some kind of universal declaration. To see these sentiments delivered so profoundly, furthermore, speaks volumes to the power animation possesses in cleansing minds weathered by the cynicism of adulthood.