Visually and Emotionally Beautiful

Rating: 9/10 (12 April 2020)

Ratatouille came out during the height of my teenage years. You know how it is, kids movies are for kids and I'm far too mature for that. Unfortunately I never went back when I actually matured enough to appreciate movies no matter who their target audience is. I'm really wishing I had sought out this movie sooner. I kept shrugging it off as just a movie about a cooking rat, as great as Pixar can be, it wasn't a concept interesting enough to get me excited about it. But of course, Pixar being Pixar, Ratatouille is about so much more than that.
We follow Remy, a rat with a supernatural sense of smell in the French countryside. While his family are content munching on the human waste that gets thrown out, Remy is much pickier. Much, much picker. He craves the purest essence of food, the magic of taste, of combining ingredients, preparing them in different ways, and savouring every delectable bite. He regularly sneaks into a nearby cottage to get his fix of the finest fruit and vegetables, and happens upon a famous chef who appears on television. He's inspired by this approach to food, and his foray into cooking and spices lands him and his colony in big trouble, seeking new pastures in the underbelly of Paris. This is where Remy separates from his family and finds a new home in the prestigious restaurant of the famous chef he idolised. Before long he's discovered by the garbage hand, and together they turn the local food industry on its head, with Remy as the food genius, and Linguini as the human puppet desperate not to lose his job.
So far so family friendly. It's a fun romp about two characters who forge a bond and dependency on one another, leading to some tense and thrilling moments, as well as some absolute slapstick gold. I'm not ashamed to say that watching Linguini flailing around as Remy pilots him is truly hilarious. I caught myself laughing out loud on numerous occasions. Pixar's animation department bring in their undeniable comedy timing and crack out their catalogue of amusing facial expressions that never get old. Remy and Linguini's practice run in Linguini's apartment is endless hearty laughs.
But as the movie goes on, something else starts to emerge. A tale much more mature in nature. Ratatouille evolves into a story about creating art, and critiquing said art. It becomes a story about the relationship between artist and critic. It becomes a story about how art can affect us all, to our deepest cores, and how art in all its forms can be appreciated. This is something that hit really hard for me. It's what I practically built this review blog on; the idea that even blockbuster popcorn flicks have their place, can be appreciated for their artistic value, that art is not about its technicalities, but about how it makes us feel. Or as Ratatouille's film critic says at the end; "...the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so." In a poignant monologue at the movie's close, Ratatouille transcends the simple designation of a family blockbuster, and becomes its own slice of art. "Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere." It's an ending that hit me in so many places simultaneously, and trumps the familial emotional value Pixar often falls on. Instead it falls on the emotional impact and true love of art in all its forms. "The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends." Ratatouille tried something new, and deserves every ounce of praise it has earned. It avoids clichÃ© and predictability in the best ways, offering us an ending equal parts poignant and bittersweet, in probably the most un-fairy tale ending I've seen from a family movie.
Before I wrap this up, I do want to touch on Ratatouille's more technical aspects as well, because while Pixar are great at emotional gut-punches, they're also great at making groundbreaking animation. Remy and his rat colony are brought to life exquisitely, often looking like real rats, with every hair individually rendered, and the way they move. And yet it's balanced brilliantly with the more cartoony aspects of the character designs. Remy enjoys being somewhat anthropomorphised without losing his adorably animalistic nature. The human designs are also leagues ahead of where Pixar were when they first began only a decade previously. Again the designs are intrinsically cartoonish, with the lanky, somewhat goofy-looking Linguini, the short and hilariously disproportioned Skinner, the huge chin and forehead of Horst, and the on-the-nose deathliness of Anton Ego. Then again Colette enjoys the luxury of being entirely animated by female artists, never falling victim to male interpretations of cartoon women (see: Elastagirl). And yet Ratatouille remains oddly detail focussed, ensuring the right parts of a chef's uniform behave has they should when wet or dirtied, that food decays realistically, that the rats move, skitter, and sniff about like actual rats. You can rarely fault Pixar's approach to animation, but Ratatouille doubly so. There is just one slight moment that doesn't quite look right, and it's after Linguini jumps in the river. The water on his skin makes him look shiny and plastic rather than actually wet. One fault in a movie brimming with beauty isn't too bad going though.
What else is there to say? I can't believe I snoozed on Ratatouille for so long. It's a beautifully poignant film about creating, critiquing, and digesting art. It's about prestige cooking, but it's themes could apply to anything. It's hilarious. It's heartwarming. It's sad. It's thrilling and full of suspense. But that ending hit me harder than any typical tearjerker could. I give Ratatouille a resounding 9/10. It's definitely Pixar's most undersung achievement.