Ratatouille

I really admire “Ratatouille’s” attempt at a democratic spirit. Almost all kids’ films lately are about Chosen Ones With Special Powers Who Are The Offspring of Magical / Royal Parents. I guess if you’re a kid with self-esteem issues who feels like If I Just Disappeared No One Would Notice, Harry Potter and The Seeker and The Little Princess and the girl from “Pan’s Labyrinth” all want you to identify with leads who turn out to have been Magical and Special All Along, and who would cause the World To Stop If They Disappeared. The lead character does not have to earn what makes him special; he’s born that way, telling kids that they don’t have to work hard to be accepted, but just be loved for who they are. But, as a wee one, I tended to side with the non-magical, non-special people in movies like that. The main relationship in “Ratatouille” is between the rat Remy, who longs to be a chef, and his human friend Linguini, whom he manipulates to make his dishes for him. “Ratatouille” goes to pains to show the rat busting his ass to learn how to be a chef, while the human, who is actually the son of a great chef, can’t cook to save his life. David Mamet once said there’s no such thing as talent, only hard work. Still, aside from that, “Ratatouille” is a standard Pixar kid’s film, detailed and well-crafted if not quite beautiful, and I got bored. You know what’s going to happen long before it does. Kids might like it though. The finest piece of animation finds Remy shivering in a jar in animal fear. His plight is the standard plight of movie animals who act just like humans: doesn’t it suck to be a human trapped in an animal’s body? Here’s a wild idea: why not make an animated movie about animals who act like animals?

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