Compared to his last two films, Ratatouille was a big departure for Bird. It’s not dealing with grand or epic consequences, no superheroes, alien robots, or such. It’s quite small scale. It’s also a movie that looks very Disney, with its talking animals and European setting. But at the same time, it’s unlike any other Disney movie. It’s got a very specific, weird set-up, and the most appropriate audience isn’t kids. That’s not saying it deals with dark material like The Incredibles, far from it in fact; but it’s got a mature sensibility, atmosphere, and themes that arguably mean more to adults than children. Case in point: I first saw Ratatouille on TV about eight or nine years ago, and thought it was fine, but it didn’t excite or entertain me the way the old Pixar films did. Now I understand its brilliance, its beauty, and why it surpasses Bird’s previous two films, as excellent as they may be.
Remy is a dissatisfied young rat belonging to a colony in the countryside of France who develops a passion for gourmet cooking. When the colony is forced to evacuate the home they’ve been living in, he gets separated in a sewer and winds up in Paris. Finding his way to the restaurant once owned by his idol/muse Gusteau, he teams up with the downtrodden garbage boy Linguini, through whom he’s able to make exquisite dishes. Hiding under a toque as his cooking becomes famous, it’s ever more risky Remy will be found out as the true source of the delectable cuisine. But perhaps he wants to be.
This film feels like it was once intended to be a short. The rat controlling a human to live out his dream as a chef sounds like the perfect premise for an animated short film, and as Ratatouille proves in a number of moments, fits perfectly in Pixar’s wheelhouse of non-verbal shorts. That it was expanded upon gives it a greater agency though, but also more to prove. Luckily Bird knew exactly how to prove it. He brings his filmmaking finesse, demonstrated in The Incredibles over, utilizing the camera again for beautiful tracking shots, and to great success with the inherently physical comedy of the core conceit. There’s more slapstick in this movie than in any other from Pixar thus far and it’s really funny. There’s a lot of great humour, an expected Weekend at Bernie’s gag, and fantastic comedy action. You can tell Bird’s also aware the premise sounds a little thin, and even has Linguini comment on its insanity a couple times in the movie. This actually does ground the film and allows us to focus on the finer points. The pacing is very even, seamlessly transitioning from high comedy antics to basking in the richness of the environment and work that Remy so loves.
Bird also puts much more effort into atmosphere, and it’s wonderful. Ratatouille really romanticizes Paris, but that plays perfectly into my love of romanticized Paris -and Remy’s for that matter. I can’t help it, but I am a sucker for Paris in movies, and the Parisian beauty porn here is absolutely irresistible. There’s a genuine love of the city and culture on display and it’s perfectly enrapturing. It’s something I really wish Brave captured, but that’s another review. This atmosphere also gives the film a very European quality. It’s not just that it’s set in Paris, but it has the details right, the subdued action and pacing,. Even the animation, which is terrific, is styled more like out of a European film like Aunt Hilda!, The Illusionist, or even The Triplets of Belleville. This sets the movie apart and makes it more visually distinct. Bird is so masterful at all of this, he’s able to keep the audience from caring how Remy can control Linguini’s limbs using only his hair.
It’s weird considering Cars was Pixar’s most blatantly marketable movie, that it would be followed up by what’s so far their least marketable. Sure Remy’s cute but not that well defined physically, and there are only two other significant rat characters, neither of whom have commercial appearances. I’m so glad of this though as it better opens up the characters to being characters. Remy is one of the best Pixar protagonists. He’s intelligent but also passionate, and it’s easy for an audience to get behind a passion. This character truly loves food and cooking and while I don’t share that interest, I’m incredibly engaged by how much he is. He also doesn’t fall for the “all humans are terrible” message his father tries to set up. How many other movies would give him that regressive change of heart when he sees rat carcasses in a business window? He believes humans are better than that because he has Linguini as proof. Even the falling out that does occur between him and Linguini (and thankfully doesn’t last long) comes out of personal pride rather than any prejudice. But though Remy’s smart, he’s not quite satisfied. He wants credit for his work but knows how bad an idea it would be to expose himself, and so doesn’t really know how to feel. None of his conundrums feel like hackneyed writing, they all feel understandable and relatable if we were in similar circumstances. And I’m as surprised as you are that this was all portrayed so well by Patton Oswalt. But he really was kind of perfect, coming off as superbly genuine, and a pure indication that this movie wasn’t after celebrity. Especially considering the second-lead, Linguini, wasn’t even voiced by a voice actor, but rather an animator Lou Romano, who’d worked with Bird on his previous movies (though you’d be forgiven for assuming most of the runtime he’s Jack McBrayer). He’s a very typical awkward loser but he keeps your attention for his heart and kind nature. He never quite becomes complacent either, though he does take Remy a little for granted. His lack of an accent doesn’t bother me, considering he’s supposed to be Italian among all the French characters. Janeane Garofalo puts in a decent accent as Colette, Linguini’s wonderfully designed teacher and love interest. She too actually has a bit of development, revealing her struggle in a sexist working environment, indirectly giving a reason for her detached behaviour. The great Ian Holm is unrecognisable as Chef Skinner, the owner of Gusteau’s, and actually a pretty funny villain, who upon learning Linguini is actually Gusteau’s illegitimate son, tries to thwart his success at every turn (there’s a good running gag where he keeps spotting Remy and goes paranoid). Brad Garrett is the best he’s ever been in a Pixar movie as Gusteau, and John Ratzenberger, James Remar, and a surprising Will Arnett, do good jobs as the rest of the staff. Brian Dennehy voices Remy’s father, and Remy’s brother Emil has a pretty good voice provided by future Pixar director Peter Sohn. And good lord, is Peter O’Toole great as Anton Ego the critic; a grim, terrifying presence who can kill a restaurant with a single review. It’s surely the great power that we critics wield.
But as to that mature stuff I brought up earlier, it’s to do with Remy’s passion and how he exercises it. He first gets Linguini attention by adding something new to the soup being served. It’s this ingenuity that drives him. He has better senses than most other rats, which they just use to make him into a food taster. He wants to use this skill though, but the garbage the rats raid doesn’t inspire him. “I’m tired of taking,” he tells his family. “I want to make things, I want to add something to this world.” And it’s that last part that’s most important. He doesn’t merely want to cook and copy Gusteau’s recipes, he wants to make them his own; use his own sense of expert taste to bring something new literally to the table. Ratatouille is a love letter to creativity. Not everyone considers food to be art, for the reason that it’s purpose is to be consumed. But what Remy does, as many real chefs do, is artistic. And that need to be artistic translates, something children of a particular disposition might not catch onto or appreciate. However it strengthens the movie in hand with the idea of tenacity in the face of judgement. Throughout the movie the rats hate humans, believing for good reason, the humans see them as pests to be exterminated. They’re also thought of as dirty and creepy -the very contravention of a rat in a fine kitchen is not unintentional. But Remy is presented as noble for going against the social grain, even in the knowledge that he won’t be accepted if ever outed as a chef. In a way, he’s also going against established protocol by experimenting; as Colette makes clear, while Gusteau thrived on being unexpected, the staff have to keep to strict recipes.
In this discouragement, Remy’s greatest vindication comes from the most unlikely source: the picky food critic. In my favourite scene, Ego after having astonishingly enjoyed the fittingly made ratatouille Remy prepared, waits until all the other diners have left to meet the chef. We see his response to the reveal of Remy and the whole story, as Remy narrates, and it’s tonally terrific. He then writes his review. “There are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defence of the new.” For all his harsh demeanour and reputation, he has the principles to defend his feelings, even if they’re unpopular. The speech he gives in voice-over is not only a perfect statement on criticism, but a reflection on one of the necessities of it: that is to be open to the new and its ability to provoke. One of the greatest joys of criticism is this ability to open others up to talent they hadn’t before considered or looked at from another point of view. Furthermore, this emboldens creators that with the right passion, social backgrounds, circumstances and prejudices mean nothing in the formation of great art. “Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” Am I getting misty-eyed?
Ratatouille I believe is Brad Bird’s best feature, and not at all what I expected from what I remembered of it. Once again, Bird is free of any shackles, and creates a completely unique movie for Pixar. The moving themes, lush atmosphere, interesting hero, great comedy, animation, and poignancy are a lot of things to get out of a movie about a talking rat who cooks. With Cars representing what Pixar could stoop to, Ratatouille represents in every ideal what it could be. Damn I can’t wait for Brad Bird to come back!
If Boundin’ hadn’t already happened, I’d be tempted to call Lifted the strangest Pixar short I’ve seen. It’s about an overzealous alien trying to abduct a deep sleeping human who looks like Arthur Christmas in front of his boss, but he’s unable to control the beam. After a series of wacky attempts in which the human bounces off all corners of his house, the alien boss expertly manages the light beam to put the human back in bed, then gives his companion the opportunity to fly the saucer, which results in him crashing it on top of the house. This one just doesn’t make any sense. Are we supposed to find alien abductors humourously charming without questioning what they’re doing with the human? And to that end, the superior just puts the human back in bed rather than abduct him properly? Wasn’t there a reason for this at all? The animation’s alright and the aliens look funny enough (though the small one reminds me a little too much of that horrendous Crazy Frog). But while some of the comedy is basic slapstick, I’m not sure when a moment’s entirely supposed to be a joke. The guy gets caught in the window by his ass -is that an anal probe reference? And then they end it with a shot of him and his bed surviving the saucer crashing onto the house, which isn’t nearly as funny. Lifted just strikes me as a weird idea that doesn’t quite know what it’s doing, and in such a brief format, that coherency is needed.
Next Week: WALL-E (2008)
Comments
Post a Comment