When I first saw the preview for Ratatouille, I wasn’t so impressed – a movie about rats? No thanks, I’ll pass, I said to myself.
Then I saw the Metacritic reviews with all these critics lining up to drool over Brad Bird’s new oeuvre. It might be worth it after all, I thought to myself.
But this didn’t prepare me for the wonder and glory that Ratatouille brings to the silver screen. I don’t remember the last time I sat in a movie theater so mesmerized, so enveloped by what Fake Steve would call “a sense of childlike wonder”. The story holds its own against the fantastic animation work throughout the movie – no small task, since Pixar has done a fantastic job of imagining Paris in Pixar-land. Cobblestone streets, little European cars, lovely fountains and rude Frenchies – they’ve got it down to the last little detail, as is their wont.
For those who are joining us late – the movie is basically one rat’s quest to go from scavenger to culinary master, from a French countryside cottage to a chic restaurant in Paris. In order to make it happen, the rat must use a young garbage boy who can’t cook worth a damn but has, ahem, a nice heart.
Sound cliched and disgusting? Don’t worry, that’s only because I don’t know how to write. Go watch this one.