Julie Steinberg | Red in tooth and claw

Tomorrow is Earth Day, the celebration of all things nature (and a possible extension of yesterday's festivities for some). Though I'm not entirely certain of the difference between Earth Day and Arbor Day (something about deciduous?), Obama said the environment was important so I'm celebrating both this year.

I always try to ensure my magical moments are Disney influenced (see Darren Criss' interpretation of Part of Your World on YouTube, for example) so I was pleased to learn that the corporation's latest gimmick is slightly less transparent than its Zac Efron machinations. In honor of its April 22 release of the new movie Earth, Disney will plant one tree per ticket purchased.

Feel-good moral turpitude aside, Disney's latest venture is a thoughtful one. Comparable to the hit TV series Planet Earth, the film features high-definition close-ups on never-before-seen footage of animals across the world. It tracks polar bears in Antarctica, elephants in the Kalahari Desert and migratory humpback whales.

Even if you're resilient to polar bear cubs (we forgot about the German cub Knut after he lost his cuddliness, after all), the film is nothing short of stunning, both visually and emotionally. Visually, I would argue that it far surpasses the computer-generated imagery that's studded family classics over the past few years. But the crystal-clear images resonate far more deeply than any ad campaign that tries to change how we view our habits and their effect on the environment. So far, the bulk of the environmental movement has relied on convoluted rhetoric and catchy slogans, and that's decreased its potential impact.

Film has similarly sacrificed purity in favor of pizzazz. It's been 14 years since the release of Toy Story, and in that time Pixar and its disciples have used computer animation to revolutionize the way we watch movies. Finding Nemo, Bolt and the forthcoming Up, for example, deliver breathtaking results on the screen: people and objects that almost look like real people and objects. But I refuse to see any more of them.

Don't get me wrong. I love Buzz Lightyear. I think Pixar is conceptually and technically brilliant, and I appreciate what it's doing to push the genre's limitations. That being said, I am sick of computer animation and 3-D. While current modes of communication rest on interactive experiences with the audience, to what extent does that connectivity diminish the inherent value of filmmaking?

Some would claim not at all. After all, they argue, the determinism of technological advancement necessitates special effects and 3-D - it's our aesthetic birthright! But though the bright colors of animation pop and we're able to more closely experience Voldemort's wrath in a darkened IMAX theater, I can't help but crave the natural. We shouldn't accept an illusory experience when reality is within our grasp.

This is the untapped resource in Disney's latest offering. Earth has the power to shock more so than any digitized existence because, and this might sound anticlimactic, it's real. The high-definition cameras enable a sharp clarity that documentaries lack by rendering images that far outdazzle their crafted counterparts. It's not only the spellbinding - pardon the pun - nature of these shots that inspires, but also because they're rooted in the absolute. We don't need to encounter hippogriffs when we can gaze at Amur leopards.

And those images should form the crux of Earth Day campaigns. Environmental rhetoric is an easily swallowable narrative that doesn't really prompt us to change our behavior. We know we should reuse and recycle, but Penn's recent failure to live up to Recyclemania goals, for example, highlights general apathy toward these actions. The February shuttering of the environmental nonprofit Student Pugwash is another example. Clearly, local governments and schools need to change the way they approach our generation - and just as we were transfixed by Aladdin's lamp in the early 90s, so too can we now be influenced by Disney's nature genie.

While animation has its place, what satiates me most is an interaction with creatures I might not get to meet otherwise. While Coraline may exist forever, the impending extinction of the animals in Earth makes our encounter all the more worthwhile. If that means foregoing the animation, I'm willing to rough it in the wild - even if Captain Planet himself needs an upgrade.

Julie Steinberg is a College senior from Boca Raton, Fla. That's What She Said appears on alternating Tuesdays. Her email address is steinberg@dailypennsylvanian.com.

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