Ratatouille is great in that the rats’ voices are translated to squeaks observed by humans. However, it’s quite bad in the manner that Remy operates Linguini. Somehow by tugging on a few human hair strands, a rat is able to achieve total domination of a body? Yes, there is a suspension of disbelief involved, but to equal what Linguini says, “That’s strangely involuntary.” In fact, the worst scene in the movie is when Remy manipulates Linguini while he is passed out from drinking the previous night. To boot, Ratatouille is yet another film that depicts entirely French characters speaking English with French accents instead of in their native language — albeit it’s a Disney movie. After all, how many American children would catch the subtitles?

From a critic’s standpoint, Ratatouille is especially charming for its inclusion of an experienced food critic who seeks the superb. When the jaded critic realizes that greatness can come from the most unlikely of sources and “anyone can cook,” he pens and narrates a glowingly refined review. It is in this review that Ego, who orders perspective and a 1947 bottle of Blanc, becomes humbled. His recollection of savoring his ratatouille and reverting back to childhood is a testament to the beautiful power of a morsel of food. In turn, Ego goes from scary (in his coffin-shaped room) to jovial.

At the end of the day, Ratatouille is a beautifully brushed painting. It’s imaginative and enjoyable. It encourages viewers to close their eyes and concentrate only on the taste before shoveling in more food and swallowing. What’s more, it’s a great story for child and adult and a motivator for anyone considering entering the world of gastronomy.