RATATOUILLE - brad bird - 9.2 / 10

Creating art of any kind and then sending it out into the world to be evaluated, critiqued and judged is a singularly strange experience whether the ‘art’ in question is a book, a movie, a song, a meal or even a letter to the editor. Though the creator of this object-- whatever it may be-- didn’t necessarily create their work to satisfy other people, there’s no doubt that the reward of seeing an audience (even an audience of one) appreciating what you’ve created can be very great indeed. Just as, similarly, the disappointment of failing to connect to your audience can be crippling. Something that you’ve trained for years to do, thought and planned about for days on end, and worked tirelessly to perfect is then sent out into the world to be judged by people who may or may not even give your work their full attention. The artist knows that their opinion shouldn’t matter. And yet, pleasing them is validating in a way that nothing else in life ever really can be. And when that satisfied audience is a knowledgeable one-- a critic, say, or a friend whose opinion you value-- the satisfaction is that much sweeter. That singularly gratifying feeling is what Ratatouille, the story of a rat who becomes a gourmet chef, is really about; and it’s what provides the film’s deeply satisfying climax.


Ratatouille perfectly encapsulates one very specific human feeling. That feeling (the anxiety and reward of having your work judged and found worthy), though relatively insignificant when held up against some of the more popular movie emotions (love, heartbreak, grief, terror), is so extraordinarily well captured here that it’s almost akin to experiencing it yourself. And if you’ve never felt that particular emotion, watching this film is about as close as you can get without actually doing it. That’s a pretty rare and impressive feat. That it’s accomplished in a movie about a rat cooking food in a restaurant in Paris is just remarkable.

Rarely is there a film, especially a big summer release from a major studio, where the outcome is really in doubt. However it might actually work itself out, for instance, you knew Tony Stark was going to live through Iron Man. Everyone in the audience knew that Frodo was going to destroy the ring in The Lord of the Rings. Anyone who’s ever seen a movie knew the asteroid wasn’t actually going to wipe out civilization in Armageddon. Just because the outcome is predictable doesn’t mean the film can’t still be satisfying; but it’s extremely rare to have no idea how a film is going to turn out when you’re halfway through. However, an hour into Ratatouille, I still had no idea how it could possibly end in a way that would be at all satisfactory. How could a movie about a rat controlling a garbage boy’s hands as he made food in a Parisian restaurant possibly end that would both make sense and be at all pleasurable? And yet, somehow, the ending of Ratatouille manages to be deeply satisfying while remaining entirely plausible (on the film’s own admittedly somewhat farfetched terms anyway). Indeed, after the film is over it seems like that’s the only way it could possibly have ended. That’s a rare and special thing that doesn’t happen often, especially when you’ve seen as many films as I have.

So what we have in Ratatouille, which is ostensibly a kids’ movie about a rodent in a kitchen, is one of the most rewarding, surprising and satisfying film going experiences I’ve ever had. It’s among the three or four most emotionally resonant films I’ve ever seen. Whether that says more about me or the film, I really can’t say. But I’m thankful to have this one and anxiously await whatever Pixar’s cooking up next.