We Love Pixar: What I Learned From 'Ratatouille'

Talent is rarely celebrated. In our culture of public mediocrity, talent becomes just another thing that the left despises. How often we hear, “Oh, so in so, is only good because they are rich/white/privileged.” Indeed, whole swaths of our society – from everyone-can-go-to-college cheerleaders to the welfare state itself – believe that success is the product of self-esteem, not effort. They tell us that notions of character just don’t work in a 21st century world. Seldom do we hear the truth: that talent is preparation meets love. Ratatouille is one film that gives it to us straight.

Set in the obscure French countryside, an aspiring chef, Remy, follows the televised culinary advice of his idol, Auguste Gusteau. Remy dreams of following him, but there’s just one problem: he’s a rat and rats don’t belong in the kitchen. Fate offers Remy an opportunity Separated from his family during a farmer’s raid, Remy falls into the sewage, traveling thousands of miles, until, at last he finds himself underneath Gusteau’s very Parisian restaurant!

The choice of locale is deliberate, of course. Paris, long the home of big government and bien-pensant, is also the home of gourmands, haute cuisine, and critique, so Remy’s passion might yet find outlet. Alas, in France, the hopes of the entrepreneur are subordinated to the plans of others. The word for the French economic system, “dirigiste,” means to direct and the French love nothing more than to direct their citizenry, and that, of course, includes who is and who is not among the crème de la crème par excellence. While his keen sense of smell saves the family from rat poisoned garbage, but Remy knows it still stinks to be a rat who loves food amongst those who couldn’t care less. He is his family’s bête noire. Quelle horreur!

Gusteau was too much of a bon vivant, for as soon as Remy arrives in Paris, he finds that Gusteau is dead. Fortunately, his legacy – and spectre – lives on as Remy’s conscience and, in times of desperation becomes his only companion. He exhorts Remy to be better than his nature, to be more than a rat and a thief: “A chef makes, while a thief takes.” In a moment of despair, Gusteau tells Remy, “If you focus on what you left behind. You will never be able to see what lies ahead.”

Linguini, is the long lost son of Gusteau, but, he, alas, does not know it. Nor should he, for he lacks all of his father’s talents in the kitchen. Linguini, like the rats, is relegated to garbage collection, a fitting symbol for how his boss, Skinner, appraises his talents and his worth. He tells Linguini “welcome to hell,” and hell is it, having lost all Gusteau’s joie de vivre. Colette, the romantic interest, tells Linguini that their job isn’t to be creative, but to follow Gusteau’s recipes à la lettre.

Linguini seems destined to haul out the garbage, but a chance encounter with Remy, who Linguini catches cooking leads to a reversal of fortune. Linguini recognizes Remy for as a “little chef.” Underneath his chef’s hat and with a tug on his hair, Remy controls Linguini like a marionette. Together they take Paris by storm, winning the praise of Paris’s most critical critique, Anton Ego and thwarting Skinner designs to save Gusteau’s reputation from marketing a line of microwaveable meals.

On top of it, the writing is easily the cleverest of the Pixar films. For French speakers, the names are more than a bit of fun. Remy is likely short for Rembrandt, while Auguste Gusteau means “august taste.” Linguini is the noodle of a boy who becomes great as Skinner seeks to cut down the great Gusteau’s restaurant.

Anton Ego’s name needs no explanation, nor does his appearance. Pixar designed him to look like a vulture, which is precisely what many critics have become. Left with nothing but their own ego to satisfy, some critics never recognize that which is truly great, as we see when Ego tells Linguini that he wants his “heart roasted on a spit.” But, as with all great masterpieces, Remy’s great chef d’oeuvre turns even the staunchest critic to a supporter because true excellence needs no marketing.

For conservatives, there’s much to like. We learn that while “not everyone can be an artist, an artist can come from anywhere” and “Anyone can [cook but], that doesn’t mean that anyone should.” The greats can rise to the top, but that doesn’t mean everyone is great.

Ratatouille is so good it allows us to even overlook Janeane Garofalo, whose politics would sound more believable, if not sensible, were she always to speak with that affected French accent. It just seems far too natural for her.

My favorite scene is when Remy decides he wants a better life.

Django: [showing the exterminator shop to Remy with the dead rats in the window] Take a good long look, Remy. This is what happens when a rat gets a little too uncomfortable around humans. The world we live in belongs to the enemy, we must live carefully. We look out for our own kind, Remy. When all is said and done, we’re all we’ve got.

Remy: [Django starts to walk away] No.

Django: What?

Remy: No. Dad I don’t believe it. You’re telling me that the future is – can only be more of *this*?

Django: This is the way things are. You can’t change nature.

Remy: Change is nature, Dad. The part that we can influence. And it starts when we decide.

Django: [Remy turns to leave] Where are you going?

Remy: With luck, forward.

Conservatives know well that they can’t change their innate nature, but they sure can change their station. It is conservatives, then, who are the real believers in progress. Onwards and upwards, and with hope and prayer, all the way.