Never has a robot’s life been so endearing, nor so topical. “Wall-E” is the tale of a Waste-Allocated Load Lifter, Earth class, who seems to be the last remaining ‘bot on earth. Actually, the last remaining anything on earth: Pixar’s predictions for 2700 are dark ones.

Earth’s surface is blanketed in smog, and trash fills every square inch of space. There are piles that scrape sky-high, and from a distance they tower like the New York skyline. It is clear that Wall-E has been at work for hundreds of years, scooting up trash into his compactor-belly and popping out the towers’ building-blocks, one by one.

He’s the last functioning robot in a world littered with remains of other Wall-Es, and, despite his mechanical make-up, is the most alive, or at least the most animated, thing left. People have long ago vacated the surface of the planet to live on a flying pleasure cruise that can stay in space indefinitely, and plans to.

Over the years Wall-E has developed a personality that teems with curiosity. He spends all day sorting through another man’s trash to find his own treasures, and we watch with glee as he experiments with fire extinguishers and paddle-balls, finding countless diamonds in the rough, even if he is only interested in their jewel cases.These are the kinds of things at which Pixar excels: taking an anthropomorphized creature and giving it new toys to play with.

And while Pixar is doing the things it is good at, “Wall-E,” both film and character, is idiosyncratically irresistible. The small eye-movements as they tilt and focus, the miniature windshield-wipers that keep them clean, the constantly shifting tread-wheel feet, everything is designed with such care and precision that it goes almost unnoticed, it’s that perfectly, undeniably human.

One day Wall-E discovers something unique to his world: a little bit of green. It’s a plant, growing snugly in a boot, and suddenly everything turns upside down. A new robot is delivered to the surface of the planet (one that seems to imply Apple has survived safely into the 28th century). She is white and sleek, with a glowing display front, and has been sent to earth for Wall-E’s plant, which he is happy to share so long as she’ll return his wayward glances.

But she knows nothing of love until Wall-E begins to coax her out of her shell. Too late, and Eve’s transport ship returns to snap her up and bring her back to the flying spaceship that houses the remaining humans. Wall-E goes after her, hitching a ride on her transport hauler.

He reaches the human habitat, which is run by “Buy N’ Large” the corporation conglomerate of the future. People have become sad sacks of skin, four-hundred-pound, soft-bellied slugs that ride around on floating hover chairs and gaze blankly at the cell-phone screen projected in their faces. Wall-E, despite finally being surrounded by life, is still the only living thing in frame.

There are hundreds of robots who gamely carry out humans’ biddings, and the movie manages to nimbly walk the fine line between our xenophobia of robots with agency and our tenderness towards anything that can love. (Here the spoilers begin in earnest.)

The plant, it turns out, will enable the ship to return to earth, but only if the requisite bad robot can first be defeated. This robot, a glowing, red eye alá HAL of “2001: Space Odyssey” (look out for the hilarious send-up of the first-step sequence), turns out to be only carrying out the orders given it by humans.

It is overcome by the flip of a switch (from “auto” to “manual”) and the ship can begin its return.

Unfortunately, Wall-E is injured in the fray, and Eve has to rush him back home, where there are spare parts for his make-up. This plot movement makes for a compelling contemplation of whether the materials of composition house the soul. When all of his parts are replaced, is Wall-E still his own, endearing self? It is a kiss from Eve and a spark of life that bring the catatonic robot back to life.

The people disembark and begin to repopulate the world, building and growing lighter as the generations are depicted throughout the final credits. These credits are a wonder in themselves, tracing art history from cave paintings through impressionism to Atari-style pixels.

Pixar deftly maneuvers our emotions, and we happily hum along. They nod to their ability to capture our hearts, and we never feel we’re being manipulated, even when we are. This is another of Pixar’s gifts, and, ultimately, so is “Wall-E.”