Ratatouille

It's been a while since I can just enjoy a movie, believe in the make-believe fantasies, and indulge myself in being touched without having to dip into any dialectical discussions of a film's philosophy and aesthetics...Ratatouille, a beautiful animated movie that stars an American-in-Paris kid/ "cook" Linguini (what a cross-cultural set-up!) who, with the help of the star-culinary creator Remy, the rat hidden in his cap, rewrites the history of the restaurant of legendary cook Gusteau, which is on the downhill after his death, recreates the image of the rat from that as pest to that as creative and helpful beings, and reinforms the agenda of the mean, hard-to-satisfy restaurant critic Anton Ego from thinking hyper-critical to being generous with praise where it is deserved.

Surely, there are the make-believe messages that may have seemed far-fetched in reality but totally in line with the objectives of Disney pictures, such as how the whole clan of rats (starring Remy's brother and father, who lack taste in food, or trust in humans--initially) creates a beautiful meal towards the end, or the worn out ideals of pursuing one's dreams as long as one invests passion (Gusteau says, "Everyone can cook"), or even just how Linguini can communicate with Remy; or, consider the ludicrous images of American cross-culturalism in a French context (the kitchen staff is all mixed with people of different backgrounds or ethnicities), and of all the French English accent. Yet, this film works because it opens one's eyes to the beauty of creativity and, to me personally, because it succeeds in bringing forward inspiring thoughts on the issue of criticism. In many ways, Anton Ego, the critic with a big ego, mirrors myself. A long, emanciated face and a menacing voice, his critique is sharp and pungent, making his opinion effective to the extent that it filters out the nonsense; his acute taste, while working to the advantage of offering judgments, hinders him in being open and positive about that which he is evaluating. When asked by Linguini why a critic who likes food looks so skinny, he says dogmatically, "I don't like food, I love food. If it's food that I don't love, I don't swallow it". The question is, what kind of a love for food is this? What does he love? How much is he appreciating food for food itself, or aware of the value of that which he chooses to spit out and grimace about? What is key is that there is an implicit downside in the nature of criticism if its focus is primarily on digging out the negative sides of the subject matter. After savoring the beautifully crafted ratatouille sensation that Remy and his clan put together, served by Linguini the cook/ waiter on wheels, he reevaluates his criteria for critique; after the unfortunate termination of the restaurant's business due to its unhygienic conditions (N.B. the rats), his credibility is damaged, but he is seen in Linguini's new bistro, enjoying the famed ratatouille, his occupation as a critic something of the past and the mean look of criticism gone from his face. Just as how his face lit up in childhood reminiscence of his mother's ratatouille when he first tastes Remy's creation, now he is rid of the need to be faultfinding, is broadening his love for food and, in that way, is closer to it.

I have found out that I have a tendency to adopt a distant and analytical voice when doing a critique/ review of a certain subject matter, in an attempt to offer a systematic or technical opinion that will appease the reader's need for "critical opinion"; yet, in the process of breaking the subject matter down, I miss the joy of staying close to the medium in question and in finding faults in the subject I seem to have no idea of what I like, only an idea of what to dislike, for the sake of offering some sort of critical argument through the act of negation. The phenomenal human touch at the end of this film touches me to open up myself, and reminds me that the critical taste of an individual comes not only with the act of opting for what is good, but also with embracing what may have seemed bad. To reject something when it does not seem good enough ("If it's food that I don't love, I don't swallow it") ruins the prospects of discovering something better to come, because that negative energy fails to give due credit to anything and alienates one from that which one professes to love.

Note: Ratatouille is a vegetable dish from southen France, made out of eggplants, onions, garlic, green peppers, tomatoes, zucchini, with a variety of spices, simmered in olive oil. Have got to try this dish, and this film has got to be seen.