Ratatouille (2007)
Indeed, our tastes in film embellish and spiral to various degrees, testament to us growing up and shedding the cocoon of childhood. With that, we slowly forget how thoroughly we enjoyed animated films, the sphere of innocence that they carried, along with their important messages. And who could deny the profound effects films such as Toy Story and The Incredibles have had on our immature minds, much less how they taught us to differentiate between right and wrong. We smiled when Shrek and co. got their happily ever after, cried when Ellie Fredricksen passed away in Up, and danced along to Disney princesses singing. Life was so simple before reality clicked in, but the memories start to resurge and remind just how important these silly animated films used to be.
I myself am no stranger to the old Pixar delicacies. The studio is renowned for their emotional trances, their uncanny ability to make even its adult audiences shed a tear. 2007’s Ratatouille does not share this belief; true, the idea that a rural French rat can rise to the occasion and prepare Michelin 3-star meals in the heart of Paris is adorable, but the film evokes a rhythmic desire to dance long after the credits roll. Not many films, this statement extending to all genres, dedicate themselves to the pursuit of art. Of course, with the aid of ever-growing technology, visually stunning cinema is now possible. However, how often do we get to see the rise and fall of an artist’s journey? Black Swan and Whiplash are good candidates, though they are slightly inappropriate for the younger audience. Gattaca and The Prestige are too complicated for once again, the younger ones to follow. Ratatouille teaches us the road, and admittedly, the rocky wayward path to discovering our passion.
I repeat: the premise that a rat can cook gourmet meals is ridiculous. I mean, the writers must’ve forgotten their meds or something. But like many cartoons, there exists a certain realm of imagination and hyperbole. Remy, a talented rat, is on a crash course with destiny. Even though his rat colony has no interest in cultivating this passion, he finds someone to share this lonely path of artistry. No, not his obese brother. Gusteau takes the form of a merrier version of Gordon Ramsey, and when Remy is tragically separated from his colony thanks to an old narc, the rat is brought to the sewers of Paris. With the help of a spiritual Gusteau, Remy plucks up the courage to conquer the judgemental perspectives of the cooking world.
Anton Ego is a suitable final boss for Remy. Arguably the most spiteful cartoon villain out there, he is a distinguished Parisian food critic with a very discriminating antithesis against Gusteau’s slogan: anyone can cook. In a final showdown between the gloomy long face and the rat, the request is both straightforward and complicated.
I would like some fresh, clear, well-seasoned perspective.
Subsequently, he is served Ratatouille, a paysan dish, raising the eyebrows of Skinner, another antagonist. Of all the decadent meals you could serve to a food critic, surely a peasant’s meal should not be one of them.
Ego writes something on his notepad, then takes a lazy bite. It is incredible, what a reminder of our childhood can do to us, that smidge of nostalgia still unwashed away by the Cheval Blanc 1947 Ego pairs the meal with. The scene quickly transitions to a better time, the wafty aroma of his mother’s cooking. This is not the most quintessential element to Ratatouille, but it does bring us back to how simple life used to be, a renewed perspective of sorts. So yes, Ego gets what he is asking for, a very resounding 180 of his original opinion, thanks to the perspectives of others and the unhinged innocence of childhood.
Strip the film’s content to its barebones, the story of a rat befriending a human klutz and transforming the culinary world to run their own restaurant is darling. We had big dreams as kids, a trait which we shared with Remy. Some of us dared to be astronauts and some, presidents. No matter how difficult a goal is, Remy’s journey brings us faith. It celebrates uniqueness, in the way Remy is different from the rest of his clan, and then the human world. Despite all the setbacks, he continues to chase his dreams. He does not let the fact that he is a rat interfere with his creations because passion trumps over societal expectations.
There is also a brief analysis of gender politics involving Colette. This is a valid point, since we tend to imagine white collar chefs as men, obviously depicted in Gusteau’s kitchen. Colette is another bit of uncommon that sticks out, prompting her to suggest that her journey is more difficult than her male compatriots. This is one of those “gender wage gap” discussions again, but Remy’s story could be seen as empowerment for Colette as well.
Anybody can cook.
This phrase is mentioned multiple times in the film and we take a humanistic approach to this idea. At first glance, we imagine that Linguini will be able to overcome his blunders and become a world-class chef, finally taking over his father’s mantle. However, Ratatouille is more radical; the phrase encompasses talent of all measures, removing discrimination of all backgrounds.
Ratatouille is just another film out of Pixar to achieve both creativity and sentiment, characteristics children are absolutely drawn to. Parisian lifestyle here is slightly exaggerated, although the sheer beauty of everything fits everything together. Naturally, the younger generations’ minds are too simple to understand the deeper messages of Remy’s conquest, though we become more confident in what we aspire thanks to filmmaking like these. The imperative message that should be at least be understood by all, is that although talent is a privilege, this privilege could be afforded to anyone.
Whether this film can withstand the test of time, is not important, since there will always be newer adaptations to inspire our young minds. Us adults, we remember The Theory of Everything and The Pursuit of Happyness. Sooner or later, that homesickness will return to remind us how far we have come, and we will embrace it, hug it, then chuck it into the backseat, ready to welcome new challenges.
