Ratatouille

Ratatouille is an excellent comedy about the pleasure of being good at something, and the work that comes before the pleasure. Brad Bird, who writes and directs, takes Remy’s wish to become a chef seriously enough that we do too. The rat is an outsider for reasons no amount of practice can remove. That gives a familiar follow-your-dreams story a difficulty worth thinking about: skill does not guarantee that anybody will give someone a chance. Bird keeps the cooking interesting enough to make the question matter.

Robert Anderson and Sharon Calahan’s cinematography makes Paris inviting without losing the rat’s small scale. Looking at the city from his height gives the setting a practical purpose: we have to imagine moving through it in that body. Harley Jessup’s production design is equally useful in the kitchen, where the arrangement of the working space helps us follow the action. The detail tells us how the place functions. It is pleasurable to look at, but it also lets the comedy move without constant explanation.

We were surprised by how hungry the cooking made us. The animation gives the food enough substance to suggest taste, and the care taken over its preparation makes us want to try it. Patton Oswalt’s voice helps: his Remy sounds absorbed in what he wants to make, and that concentration makes him easy to care about. Bird allows the business of preparing food to hold our attention. For a family comedy, it is an unusually persuasive reason to stop waiting for the next joke.

Darren T. Holmes’s editing gives the physical comedy a clear sequence of actions and consequences. That matters when an animated film can send bodies anywhere it likes; here, movement usually has a purpose beyond filling the screen. Michael Giacchino’s score keeps the mood playful without making the characters’ efforts seem trivial. The film can be busy without feeling frantic.

Peter O’Toole’s Anton Ego gives the prospect of a critic’s judgement a severity that is funny and faintly alarming. His voice makes us understand why anyone cooking for this man would care about getting it right. Oswalt and O’Toole are especially well matched: Remy’s eagerness and Ego’s exacting manner suggest different ways of caring deeply about food. Bird finds enough comedy in that difference without making either interest seem foolish.

The reservation is length, and it is worth making even for a film this good. The film runs 111 minutes, and Bird’s screenplay occasionally spends longer talking through its concerns than the comedy needs. The kitchen scenes have already shown us why Remy cares; further persuasion can feel unnecessary. Younger viewers may grow restless when the conversation takes over. We did not need more jokes everywhere, but a firmer cut would have helped the quieter passages keep their momentum.

There is less dependence here on rapid jokes than we expect from family animation, and more confidence that children can enjoy watching someone learn a skill. That confidence is mostly justified, even if the talkier passages test it. We would recommend Ratatouille to people who tend to avoid animation as readily as to those who love it. Watch it before dinner, while there is still time to change what is on the menu.