I'm not writing this review. I don't have anything to say about the film. You see, there's a small furry animal on my head. He's pulling chunks of what little hair I have left and that's causing spasms in my fingers. My hands are on the computer keyboard and the spasms in my digits are typing the words you're reading right now. It's not me! It's the spasms and the rat on my head!
Okay, of course, I'm joking -- but you get the picture (no pun intended). When a rat with great cooking skills who can read English (in France), but can't speak it, meets up with a gangly young man that works in a kitchen, but can't cook -- they find an amusing way to help each other out.
Almost entirely a cute production with some gratuitous action sequences to patronize the kids, the film cajoles plenty of yucks, but seldom a big laugh. More seriously, Ratatouille reveals how unfortunately important critics can be to high-class restaurants. Ironically, I suppose, I'm a critic (though I prefer the term "reviewer") reviewing this film. And as a "reviewer" I remind my readers, these are just opinions. Simply put, we are all human beings with a wide range of beautifully varying tastes. That said, the net opinion of the net critics had been one big rave for Ratatouille. So I went into the screening with high hopes. Not quite the comedic animated masterpiece I'd expected, I, instead, found a cute quaint film that drags a bit at the end of the second act, but offers up an unexpectedly warm plate of climax in the wind up.
-- Book Contest --
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