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RATATOUILLE
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Anyone can cook, says the disembodied globular ghost of Gusteau (voiced by Brad Garrett, Everybody Loves Raymond), the deceased chef who made France's best restaurant, that has now been turned over to his sous-chef Skinner (Ian Holm, Alien). These words and their multiple meanings unite all of Ratatouille, for Remy (Patton Oswalt) is a rat who yearns to be a chef, a seeming impossibility:
- I think it's apparent that I need to rethink my life a little bit. I can't help myself. I ... I like good food, ok? And ... good food is ... hard for a rat to find!
- It wouldn't be so hard to find if you weren't so picky!
- I don't wanna eat garbage, dad!
From his introduction, Remy is fighting his genes and his family. "You know," his brother says, horking down something inedible, "once you muscle your way past the gag reflex, all kinds of possibilities open up."
To Remy, the unenlightened rat is ignoble. "We're thieves and what we're stealing is, let's be honest, garbage." "It's not stealing if no one wants it." "If no one wants it, then why are we stealing it?"
When Remy is separated from his family, thrust into the world, with only Gusteau's cookbook as a raft and bible, he finds himself talking to Gusteau. Where Remy is self-pitying and rationally depressed ("Well, you're dead"), his imaginary Gusteau is upbeat: "Ahh, but that is no match for wishful thinking! If you're focused on what you've left behind, you will not be able to see what lies ahead. Now go up and look around!" "But I'm starving!" "Food will come, Remy," assures Gusteau. "Food always comes to those who love to cook."
In the kitchen, the story comes alive, for aside from its how-things-work look and the usual cast of lovable quirky artistes who populate all aspirational movies, Remy befriends and is befriended by hopeless garbage boy Albert Linguini (Lou Romano), who is not only a klutz but a complete disaster in the kitchen. They team up -- yes, this movie follows all the triumph-over-adversity tropes -- and Linguini/ Remy's cooking is a gastronomic sensation that brings Paris's most discerning and merciless and merciless critic, Anton Ego (Peter O'Toole, Lawrence of Arabia), to Gusteau's to learn for himself:
- Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir?
- Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?
- With what, sir?
- Perspective. Fresh out, I take it?
- I am, uh...
- Very well. Since you're all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this bloody town, I'll make you a deal. You provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947.
- Um... Your meal, sir?
- [Stands up angrily in Mustafa's face] Tell your chef Linguini to cook anything he dares to serve me. Tell him to hit me with his best shot.
Ratatouille comes from the team that brought us Finding Nemo and The Incredibles, so we should expect a G rating, seamless animation, witty dialog, and an uplifting story. The film is a celebration not so much of cooking – though it does make you peckish -- as of creation and miracles of discovery and invention. Even though Remy and his pack of rats are rendered with Willard-esque details, we come to believe, along with Linguini, that indeed this rat is a little chef. That genius may live in the humblest of these is graciously acknowledged by Ego in his post-meal review, delivered with Shakespearean elocution by the sumptuous voice of Peter O'Toole, voicing over the sound of typewriter keys clacking:
In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read.
But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. Yet there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core.
In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize that only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.
Watch Ratatouille with someone you like, before sitting down to a fine dinner. Bon appetit!