It's somewhat tricky to characterize the appeal of EVE. It could be that, being such a hard egg to crack, watching her gradually come around to the advances of her unlikely love interest, WALL-E, is inherently satisfying. Or it could just be that she's just such a wicked badass, ready to fry anything that even comes close to being on the cusp of interfering with her all-important directive. Ben Burtt worked wonders with Elissa Knight's base track to create a smooth but commanding voice for EVE.
From the very first moment the camera pans up on Buzz Lightyear's plasticized he-man grin, he's a comedy goldmine (thanks in no small part to Tim Allen's performance). But Lasseter & Co. know better than to milk him to the point of being a one-note character, and his disillusioning discovery of the fact that he's really a toy makes for a surprisingly emotional moment. The next two Toy Story films wouldn't give Buzz as much character development, but still found hilarious directions to take.
Just like the ingredients of a culinary masterpiece, each of the characters in Ratatouille brings something flavourful to the final product. The one that packs the spiciest punch is Colette, the toughest cook in Gusteau's kitchen as formidably played by Janeane Garofalo. Her zesty passion for cooking is matched only by her standoffish defences, for she harbours something of a fragile heart. Besides leaving a strong, funny impression, she also contributes healthily to the film's emotional pulls.
Without a doubt, one of the most sympathetic old fogeys you'll see in any movie. Having suffered the loss of his beloved wife, he latches himself desperately to any vestige of her by shutting himself away in his house with all their possessions, in a futile attempt to preverse the happiness they shared. Ed Asner communicates a great deal of feeling as the hurting widower, as do the animators, who make Carl's square caricature of a face seem more human than most real human faces!
One of the qualities that makes Toy Story 2 a great movie sequel is its willingness to probe deeper – and darker – emotional depths than its predecessor, and it does so in the form of Jessie the Cowgirl. After being introduced to us as an exuberant spark (thanks to lively animation and Joan Cusack's enthusiastic delivery), she's eventually pealed back to reveal a complex mess of heartbreak, anger, and fear of abandonment (thanks in part to Randy Newman's Oscar-robbed song “When She Loved Me”).
Anton Ego represents not only a satire on art criticism, but also a lesson in how to make the most of a small supporting character. With only a few sparse minutes of perfectly written screen time, he is easily the most quotable player in Ratatouille. Designed and animated like an uncloaked Grim Reaper (complete with coffin-shaped office) and voiced with gravelly haughtiness by Peter O'Toole, he thoroughly steals every scene he's in is, especially his profound final monologue.
Super-dedicated father Marlin is possibly the most emotionally raw character Pixar has ever delivered, driven from one end of the ocean to the other by the desperate need to find his son. His internal journey is even more challenging, forcing him to confront his over-protectiveness and learn to let go of what he holds most dear. The role required a performer capable of playing both comedic straight man and dramatic centre, often simultaneously, and Albert Brooks took up the task with exceptional results.
The most purely comedic character on the list ranks high because she really is a laugh riot. As a broad lampoon of the temperamental artist, she is certainly the most welcome comic relief of The Incredibles' thick (sometimes overbearing) action. Everything Edna says is a stitch (no pun intended) thanks to Brad Bird's hilarious vocal creation. Her diminutive stature only compounds the effect of her feisty disposition. Her morbidly funny “no capes” rant is understandably a favourite.
Just like the most charming of silent film legends, WALL-E communicates a more diverse range of emotion without words than the most verbose of characters can. Subtle eye movements and Ben Burtt's brilliantly designed sound palette imbue mankind's mechanical saviour with distinct human qualities that depict him as more human than robotic. His adorable courtship of the playing-hard-to-get EVE only makes it that much more difficult not to root for this brave little trash-compacting unit.
There really was only one character I would consider putting at the top of this list. Dory, the forgetful fish who acts as surrogate child to the strung out Marlin, is easily the funniest and most affecting character Pixar ever gave us. Andrew Stanton, Bob Peterson, and David Reynolds wrote her perfectly, taking care not to merely rely on her memory loss for laughs, but to layer in more down-to-earth themes about dependency and identity. Her animation matches the grandiose of her personality, but is effortlessly toned back at the right moments without seeming out of character. Ellen Degeneres' voice work hits that soft spot between milking every drop of comic potential while retaining a sincerity that's essential to fleshing out her character's vulnerability. The combined efforts of these people made the depiction of Dory one of the most memorable screen “performances” of the decade.
