Ratatouille  料理鼠王

But of course “Ratatouille” is a great movie. We know this before we even walk into the theater, because “Ratatouille” is from Pixar, the animation studio that cannot be bothered with making a merely(only) good movie. From “Toy Story” to the critically underappreciated “Cars,” and all the many terrific short films along the way, Pixar remains after all these years the indestructible gold standard in motion pictures, animated or otherwise.
   Ah, “Ratatouille” is, of course, not just another cartoon. It is a film brave enough to move at a slower pace; even its later moments of comical chaos have something of a refreshing patience to them. This is the third Pixar feature in a row with a running time that bumps rather close against the two hour mark, and how brave of them to realize that children do not need digest(understand) adventures thrown at them at the cost of character and story. Kids will indeed sit still for that long if the story’s right - and of course the story is right.

Of course, to dismiss “Ratatouille” (or any other Pixar title) as just some kids’ movie would be to miss the point completely. One of the keys to the studio’s success is that it makes its cartoons without an age limit. Like classic Looney Tunes, Pixar’s movies connect with viewers young and old alike. After all, a good story is ageless.

And back to that story. Remy is separated from his family as they flee a country farmhouse; through the guidance of the spirit of the late, great chef Gusteau  - less a ghost and more a figment of Remy’s imagination, the film clarifies - the rat winds up at Gusteau’s, a once-great Parisian restaurant. It is here he encounters Linguini, a lowly “garbage boy.” For reasons to wonderfully absurd to detail here, the two become partners in the kitchen.

What follows is a battle over Gusteau’s will, a potential romance with a feisty (full of energy)chef, the return of Remy’s mooching family, and - oh my! - the dangerous presence of the famous critic Anton Ego, whose sour(critical) disposition(character), villainous(evil) looks, dreary(making you feel bored or unhappy) self-importance, and extreme distaste(a feeling of dislike) for anything remotely popular surely indicates he was modeled after our own Peter Sobczynski.

The Anton Ego character is a perfect example of how Pixar in general and Bird in specific do things right. When we first meet Ego, we are convinced he will be just another caricature(a description of a person, place, or situation that makes them seem silly by emphasizing only some aspects of them). Even as the movie starts to pile on such wonderful exaggerations, it’s squarely in the realm(a particular area of knowledge, experience, interest) of character simplicity. What the film is doing, however, is hiding its trump card: not only does the screenplay eventually make the character something so much more, but it lets him receive the film’s most emotionally resonant(loud sound) moment, followed by his delivery of the film’s most exquisite(extremely beautiful and delicate) monologue(a long conversation). In another film at another studio, Ego would just be a generic villain(the main bad character in a story, play, movie). At Pixar, with Bird, he tosses aside such simplicity and grows into a magnificent, endlessly watchable character in a movie filled with them.

This is because “Ratatouille” has heart. Its jokes, its conflict, its every move springs from this simple fact: “Ratatouille” has heart. It is not enough to be technically sharp; for this to be a Pixar movie, we must have a story that’s solid right down to the core. “Ratatouille” is brilliant in every conceivable(thinkable, or possible to imagine) way.

But you already knew that, because you already saw the Pixar logo.

Recommendation: Can you just imagine a rat cook the dinner for you? Yep, our “Ratatouille” is born with cooking. Pay attention to the dishes “the chef” prepared for you.