Other Reviews in this Series.
Directors: Brad Bird, Jan Pinkava (co-director)
Writers: Brad Bird, Jan Pinkava, Jim Capobianco, Emily Cook, Kathy Greenberg, Bob Peterson
Cast: Patton Oswalt, Lou Romano, Ian Holm, Janeane Garofalo, Peter Sohn, Brian Dennehy, Peter O'Toole, Brad Garrett, John Ratzenberger
Runtime: 111 mins.
2007
When we look at Pixar's stable of repeat directors, currently numbered at four, choosing the best of the bunch may be an impossible task. We can throw out John Lasseter (Toy Story, A Bug's Life, Toy Story 2, Cars, Cars 2) right away. Although he was responsible for kicking everything off with Toy Story, he also claims a hefty portion of Pixar's mediocre entries. We're left with Pete Docter (Monsters, Inc., Up, Inside Out), Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo, WALL-E), and Brad Bird (The Incredibles, Ratatouille). Such a selection between titans inevitably comes down to personal taste; in my mind the war rages between Stanton and Bird, both of whom have since gone on to direct live action movies, and both of whom are returning to direct Pixar sequels now that their most recent films have flopped financially and critically (John Carter, Tomorrowland). Whether that is good news or bad news, only time will tell. Perhaps the relative successes of Finding Dory and The Incredibles 2 will help me pick a favorite.
As far as I can tell, Brad Bird is not often at the top of people's favorite Pixar director lists. A cursory googling tells me that Docter is typically the favorite. This one even puts Bird at number five. Maybe he gets points docked for starting his career with The Simpsons and The Iron Giant rather than being born and raised in the Pixar system. I'm inclined to think it also has something to do with Ratatouille being the most regretfully underrated film in Pixar's canon.
In trying to figure out what kept audience's from latching onto Ratatouille as they have for Pixar's other properties, I can't put my finger on any defects in the movie itself. I can only assume it comes down to surface level aesthetic reasons, such as the hard fact that this is a movie about rats and food, two things that don't appeal to wide audiences, especially in tandem. The immediate yuck factor of Ratatouille's premise may be why its box office numbers were below average, including an opening weekend lower than any Pixar movie excepting Toy Story and A Bug's Life. To be honest, not being a person who particularly enjoys either rats or food, the movie had little appeal to me when it came out. Even after watching it I had no special love for this story of a rat named Remy (Patton Oswalt) who has a gift for the gustatory arts.
Perhaps Ratatouille didn't catch on because it is one of the more difficult Pixar movies to unpack, an alienating premise buffeted by a complicated central relationship surrounded by a tangled web of character arcs. Much like a good cheese, Ratatouille is a movie that certainly gets better with age. Only on this viewing has it revealed itself to me; if you've only seen it once, I highly encourage you to give it another go-round.
For the uninitiated, Remy is a rat with an acute sense of smell and a refined palate. He idolizes the late Master Chef Gusteau, whose cookbook proclaims his inspiring slogan: Anyone Can Cook. When Remy gets separated from his rat clan, a group of loved ones who don't understand Remy's aspirations and use him as a simple poison checker, Remy finds himself in the heart of Paris, at his idol's formerly great restaurant. Concurrently we are introduced to our other protagonist, the hapless Linguini (Lou Romano). All he wants is to work as a garbage boy, but when he accidentally ruins a pot of soup, Remy steps in to secretly course correct the meal. Linguini catches him in the act, but not before the soup is served. When it is a big hit, Linguini is promoted to a trainee chef, and he and Remy must work together to continue cooking delicious dishes that Linguini has no hope of concocting on his own.
That's not even the half of it. There's also antagonistic head chef Skinner (Ian Holm) who is trying to cover up a secret about Linguini's paternity. There's another antagonist in the form of Anton Ego (Peter O'Toole), the vampiric food critic whose scathing review cost Gusteau's their five star rating many years ago. Intertwined with these plots is a budding relationship between Linguini and the chef stuck with training him, Colette (Janeane Garofalo). Plus Remy's clan keeps showing up at his place of work hoping for free handouts. Not to mention the health inspector, the lawyer, Gusteau's disembodied spirit...
You would be excused in thinking this movie sounds severely overplotted, but my favorite thing about Ratatouille is the way it interweaves these various character arcs into a seamless tapestry of story development. The typical Pixar method is to establish a strong central relationship, then surround these people with a crew of secondary characters who sometimes impact the plot, but primarily spout hilarious dialogue. Ratatouille is an impressive exception to this rule. Every character has their own individual arc concurrent with the arcs of Remy and Linguini, though not wholly subservient to them. Every scene is built for development and interaction, as each choice a character makes influences the choices of the other characters, whose choices then reflect back on the main characters, etc. It's a stupendously plotted film. I was surprised by the facility with which all of these arcs come together in the climax to make for an exciting and wholly satisfying wrap-up. Just now looking up 2007's nominations for Best Original Screenplay, it appears Ratatouille was nominated and lost to Juno. Juno is a pretty well-written movie. I find Ratatouille far more impressive.
Beyond the well-juggled cast of characters, Ratatouille's greatest achievement may lie in the relationship between the two main characters. Remy is a misfit because he was born a rat, which allows the movie to make some insightful commentary about the cultural limitations set on oppressed peoples in a white man's world. Linguini is a misfit because he is clumsy and awkward, and he has yet to find a calling that fits his peculiar skillset. When Remy learns that pulling Linguini's hair controls him like a puppet, they together gain the ability to pass as the other: Linguini passes as a chef, and Remy passes as a human. It's a mutually beneficial relationship that develops into a fascinating sort of cross-species companionship. It's a relationship that raises questions (So rats are as intelligent as humans? Remy can read and understand human language but cannot speak it? But he can give human gestures? Why has nobody noticed that rats are basically people before?), but each of these questions is effortlessly paved over by the groundedness with which the movie stages these interpersonal relationships. Rather than convoluting the message, the disparity between these two characters drives home the beauty and simplicity of the oft-mangled central message. Anyone can cook. Not everyone can cook, mind you, but a good cook can come from anywhere. This is a far more important message than the privileged standby of you can be anything you want to be. Rather, Ratatouille points out that not everyone has the natural talents for every pursuit, but that doesn't mean the high art of cooking should be the domain of the white man. There are people with a gift for cooking from every walk of life, which we would soon discover if we stopped discouraging them.
Ratatouille once more proves that Brad Bird is a director with a distinctive visual flair. Every setting in the film has real and immediate effects on the events that play out. The recreation of Paris is stunning, and the kitchen where most of the movie takes place is intricately built with a clear love for the process of food preparation. For a movie about rats and cooking, there is a surprising amount of action that takes place, and it is all excellent. The audience perspective frequently shifts back and forth between Remy and Linguini, but when Remy is scurrying about the kitchen either to elude or to cook, the movie firmly roots us in the eyes of a rat. Bird and co. perfectly capture the lithe unbroken fluidity with which rodents navigate space. Countless pots, pans, knives, and other such objects are thrown at Remy over the course of the movie, but his perpetual avoidance of obstacles doesn't feel unlikely or ridiculous like it does in most action movies because we've all seen how rats and mice move. They're nature's escape artists. Taking a ride along with one of them through legs and across counters and up ladles and out windows is an exhilarating and unique experience.
I had a strong desire to print Anton Ego's final monologue here because of how moving and meaningful I find it, but it's best to just leave that to the domain of the movie. If you want to know what I'm talking about, go ahead and give Ratatouille another chance. It will probably offer up something new to you this time around, as all great works of art do.
4 / 5 BLOBS
The Short: Lifted
As is the norm in Pixar shorts, the physical comedy is hyperprecise. The final gag was one I saw coming from miles away; typically anticipation is the death of comedy, but the execution of the gag was still good enough to amuse me. Nothing insightful or resonant in this short, but it's quite funny.
3/5
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