I love the evolution of Ego. He is a bitter and extremely demanding culinary critic who accepts nothing but the extraordinary. In his own words: "I don't like food, I love it and what I don't love, I don't smallow!". He takes the art and technical craft of culinary extremely seriously and critically and that's why he disdains of Gusteau's motto "anyone can cook". He is also such a respected critic that his reviews can single-handedly make or break a restaurant's reputation. He is easily the most feared critic by all chiefs in France.
What we should learn from this film's fantastic ending is, above all, to never forget the primal feeling of bliss, delight and pleasure in art in my opinion. Rémy serves Ego ratatouille, a peasant's dish. Ego tastes it and evokes memories of his mother's cooking. Ego loves the ratatouille and proceeds to eat it with a big smile on his face and ends up disregarding his pencil and notes' block that he was previously ready to write in and probably make all sorts of extreme scrutiny of every small detail of the food. Ego had a point before in demanding utmost excellence, but he mistook that for threatening the artist and allowed himself to become too cynical and bitter. But from this moment on, that changed and exactly because of how much he values excellence and is passionate about it.
So, here is Ratatouille's full ending. Let's learn from that. Of course, it becomes even more impactful after watching the whole film, Ratatouille is a film that has total sincerity and heart from start to end. And really thoughtful. In a somewhat unrelated note, I think that this is the only instance of a great climax and ending in a Pixar film without some sort of action and chase scene, which became a trite and uninspired cliché in many Pixar films. They seem to have trouble in making different kinds of climaxes.
Also, this wonderful video essay about Ratatouille's lessons about art and art critique. It's in portuguese, but I think that the automatic subtitles translated to english seem to be serviceable.
Also, I love the scene from the film in which Gusteau says that anyone can cook, but only the fearless can reach greatness, the people who don't let others tell their limits based on their origin. Your own soul is the only limit.
This is Anton Ego's review in the ending and I freaking love it.
Anton Ego: In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new: an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto, "Anyone can cook." But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist; but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.
What we should learn from this film's fantastic ending is, above all, to never forget the primal feeling of bliss, delight and pleasure in art in my opinion. Rémy serves Ego ratatouille, a peasant's dish. Ego tastes it and evokes memories of his mother's cooking. Ego loves the ratatouille and proceeds to eat it with a big smile on his face and ends up disregarding his pencil and notes' block that he was previously ready to write in and probably make all sorts of extreme scrutiny of every small detail of the food. Ego had a point before in demanding utmost excellence, but he mistook that for threatening the artist and allowed himself to become too cynical and bitter. But from this moment on, that changed and exactly because of how much he values excellence and is passionate about it.
So, here is Ratatouille's full ending. Let's learn from that. Of course, it becomes even more impactful after watching the whole film, Ratatouille is a film that has total sincerity and heart from start to end. And really thoughtful. In a somewhat unrelated note, I think that this is the only instance of a great climax and ending in a Pixar film without some sort of action and chase scene, which became a trite and uninspired cliché in many Pixar films. They seem to have trouble in making different kinds of climaxes.
Also, this wonderful video essay about Ratatouille's lessons about art and art critique. It's in portuguese, but I think that the automatic subtitles translated to english seem to be serviceable.
Also, I love the scene from the film in which Gusteau says that anyone can cook, but only the fearless can reach greatness, the people who don't let others tell their limits based on their origin. Your own soul is the only limit.
This is Anton Ego's review in the ending and I freaking love it.
Anton Ego: In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends. Last night, I experienced something new: an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto, "Anyone can cook." But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist; but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those of the genius now cooking at Gusteau's, who is, in this critic's opinion, nothing less than the finest chef in France. I will be returning to Gusteau's soon, hungry for more.
