Ratatouille was released to American movie theaters ten years ago today and I'm still in utter disbelief that it exists. In a decade where American computer-animated movies were primarily imitating the more abrasive and pop-culture reference laden style of the first Shrek movie, here comes Ratatouille, bearing more resemblance to a low-key drama than most 2000's DreamWorks Animation fare, with its heavy emphasis on small-scale dialogue and contemplations on the cost and dangers of upsetting societally implemented social constraints by way of embracing who you really are. The fact that it had such a troubled production (Geri's Game director Jan Pinkiva came up with the story for this project and was originally directing the movie as well before replacing by Brad Bird) only makes it all the more mystifying that it even exists at all.
But not only does Ratatouille exist, it exists as one of the best PIXAR movies (a studio no stranger to turning out high-quality motion pictures), one of the best movies of 2007 (a year also no stranger to high-quality pieces of cinema) and maybe the peak of Brad Bird as a filmmaker in his two decades of directing feature-length motion pictures. Those are powerful statements to put on any film, but Ratatouille managed to live up to such declarations when I watched it again just last. Revisiting it for the first time in years in honor of its tenth anniversary was an amazing experience, as this Brad Bird motion picture not only lived up to my idyllic memories of previous viewings but managed to accumulate new layers of depth in the process.
Like many American animated family movies, Ratatouille is all about a non-human outsider who wishes to achieve some kind of dream that runs directly contrast what society expects of him and/or what anyone in his species has done before. Common storytelling path for sure, but Ratatouille goes down more introspective paths in the tale of Remy (Patton Oswalt), a rat living in France who carries a love for food and the world of cooking. Obviously, a rat in the kitchen is a big no-no both for the humans who think of him as simply vermin and to his father, Django (Brian Dennehy), who distrusts any and all humans with a passion.
In a tragic turn of events, Remy gets separated from his family and finds himself alone in an unfamiliar sewer, accompanied only by the ghost of beloved and recently deceased human chef Auguste Gusteau (Brad Garrett), who shows up as a figment of the rat's imagination. It isn't long before Remy realizes, though, he's actually stumbled into Paris, France, and the restaurant Gusteau (appropriately named Gusteau's) used to run. Duties for handling the eatery now turn to the greedy Skinner (Ian Holm), who has just hired Linguini (Lou Ramono) to be a garbage boy. The paths of Remy and Linguini cross when Remy, whilst fixing up a soup Linguini tampered with, is discovered in the kitchen by Skinner and Linguini is tasked with disposing of the creature.
It is here that the main crux of the plot is introduced, in that Linguini and Remy decide to work together so that Linguini can keep up appearances as a master chef (everyone thinks the soup Remy actually made is the work of Linguini) while Remy gets to work in a kitchen. It's such a complex plot and that's not even going into certain key plotlines that you'd think the already odd concept of a rat yearning to be a master chef wouldn't be able to sustain this kind of plot. But boy howdy, does it ever. The tale of Remy breathes new life into the animated movie story mainstay of "Chasing your dreams/believe in yourself" primarily by going for a more realistic approach to such a story template.
Oh I know, that sound ridiculous when talking about a movie where a tiny rat controls a man by pulling on the man's hair, but revisiting Ratatouille, I was struck by how emotionally effective the more realistic depictions of grief, social isolation and the like were in Brad Bird's screenplay For instance, Django, instead of being a one-note caricature that can abruptly change his anti-human tune in the climax in order to create a tidy ending, feels a more complicated figure than that. A scene where he shows Remy the carcasses of dead rats (how did this movie get a G rating from the MPAA again?) that humans have killed immediately shows why he has such an understandable distrust of humans. Brian Dennehy's more resigned vocal delivery of his lines here suggests a world of pain that the viewer can't even begin to imagine living with.
There's a more introspective angle taken to the entirety of Ratatouille as plot points that could have been executed in a one-note manner in another movie are here put under the microscope and examined in a thorough fashion. Remy being torn between his obligations to his human friends and his rat family has him committing more unsavory actions that carry very real consequences, but because the script has done such a good job of making Remy a character one can emotionally invest in, his lowest points register as flaws we want to see him overcome rather than elements that make one lose interest in the story. What I'm trying to say is that the more contemplative qualities of Brad Bird's writings work wonders with lending real depth to this story that could have easily been another generic underdog tale.
Instead, Ratatouille becomes a more thoughtful project, one whose third act gets its most pivotal scene out of a monologue contemplating the nature of criticism and the bravery of artists looking to leave their mark on the world. Though there's plenty of rumination going on in Ratatouille, it's also got a number of moments of great humor derived from examples of super exaggerated physical humor. Like Ratatouille as a film, heavily utilizing more stylized body language for laughs shouldn't work in a movie this intentionally subdued but the brilliant decision has been made to relegate such antics solely to Linguini, whose tendency to do hilarious over-the-top movements reinforces his nature as an outsider in his new job since all the other cooks at Gusteau's move in a more conventional manner.
The incorporation of more stylized elements into the low-key world of Ratatouille (or as low-key as you can be in a movie starring hordes of talking rats) in this particular manner likely wouldn't work so well if the animation of Ratatouille wasn't working but man, has the computer-animated of Ratatouille aged well over the course of ten years. I have no idea if maybe the lighting choices or some other trick has made the film's animation age like a fine wine but it's such a visually glorious feature, with the food looking so scrumptious it's guaranteed to get your belly yearning for fine French cuisine. On the visual front of Ratatouille, cinematographers Sharon Calahan and Robert Anderson also excel here, particularly in creating some unique shots that make heavy use of the size difference of Remy and his larger human surroundings.
All of these sublime elements of Ratatouille are working overtime in the gripping third act, which concludes with revolves around Remy and Linguini, along with Collete and Remy's family working together to prepare a meal for ruthless food critic Anton Ego (Peter O'Toole). Here, perhaps the best example of Ratatouille getting so much out of more subdued circumstances emerges, as one taste of Remy's food has Anton transported back to his childhood, where a dialogue-free flashback occurs that, to quote Anton Ego himself, "rocked me to my core". From there, further emotionally potent small moments transpire, including Remy kindly declining to stay overnight with either his rat family or at Linguini's pad, instead finding his own spot to spend the night. Here we see Remy declining to be a part of two societies that he's been torn against the whole movie, the rat world and the human world. He now see's neither of them as inherently bad in the least but he also now see's that he must make his own path in this world. All of that and so much more is said in this scene through simply verbal cues (the actions transpire as Anton Ego's aforementioned beautiful monologue plays on in voice-over) and it's yet another demonstration of how the quiet, the restrained and the emotionally powerful come together in Ratatouille, a movie that, even after a decade, remains as fresh, tasty and phenomenal as ever.
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