Family, WORK Friendship and in Ratatouille 2009 Brenda al l en Ratatouille (Brad Bird and Jan Pinkava, 2007) is a feast of detailed mise en scène, expressive characters and professional filmic animation that places the audience right alongside the action. The hero, Remy the rat (voiced by Patton Oswalt) and his helper, the boy Linguini (Lou Romano), are charming and engaging adolescents. The socially adept Remy comes from a strict, extended family where his difference makes him a misfit. His journey is one characterised by gradual self-acceptance and high achievement as he learns to live in and between two worlds. Linguini comes from a broken home. He is alone and forlorn, and has much to learn. We follow Remy on an unplanned journey from the countryside to a Paris kitchen, that of the great and recently deceased chef Gusteau (Brad Garrett). Linguini’s entrance there sets off a chain reaction that reveals the power structure in the kitchen to be similar to that of an extended family: a patriarch/autocrat is at the head and other members fulfil well-delineated roles with responsibility both to the patriarch and to each other. However, Skinner (Ian Holm), the head chef, is thoroughly self-serving, and he and the sous-chefs share nothing but their desire to excel as artists. Thus the kitchen is a cultural ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION I he idea that animation is an innocent medium, ostensibly for children, and largely dismissed in film histories, has done much to inhibit the proper discussion of issues concerning representation.1 – Paul Wells 137 2009 melting pot where the boys, separated from the Parisians by their Italian (American) accents, cultural practices and institutionally embedded disadvantage, are the newest immigrants. Remy is more like an illegal immigrant: his position has changed from family structures is unusual and therefore welcome, but the representation is not unequivocally positive. While the potential for a deeper understanding of difference is set up, this is undercut by several omissions, oversimplifications and a resolu- The A storyline gains its impetus from the chaos that results when Remy disobeys his father in order to learn more about haute cuisine. Remy’s interest is complex in terms of rat identity, which stems largely from family membership, and family mem- T he comparison of the sole parent and extended family structures is unusual and therefore welcome, but the representation is not unequivocally positive. that of nurtured son to that of a foreigner in unfriendly territory. He must remain hidden or be hunted and hounded. ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION 138 The film shows time and again that the boys’ family origins shape the skill sets and values they bring to the story and determine the nature of the obstacles they must overcome. The comparison of the sole parent and extended tion that confirms existing power structures: on the one hand, the renewal of the nuclear family is coupled with patriarchal, capitalist imperatives, and on the other, although the extended family has made concessions to mainstream notions formerly outside their knowledge, its status is unchanged. The narrative is crafted through three main storylines. bership rests on respect for the authority of the patriarchs and participation in the time-honoured rituals they oversee, many of which relate to food gathering and eating. Haute cuisine and gourmet food are not only outside their knowledge, but are also counter to established cultural practice. Therefore Remy’s artistic flair threatens the stability of the extended family at its foundations. The B storyline begins when Linguini arrives bearing a letter from his late mother to Gusteau and is taken on in a menial role on the strength of that introduction. His sole ambition is to hold down a steady job. He and Remy become partners but make a shaky start, partly because Linguini does not know how to behave responsibly and partly because of the crosscultural nature of their relationship, which must remain secret. As their friendship develops, the boys struggle to learn the ropes among workmates who are unhelpful and devoid of team spirit; they are a little like a family at odds with itself. This is the setting for the C storyline: Linguini’s romance with Colette (Janeane Garofalo), the chef who is appointed, against her will, as his mentor. Remy and his family The opening of the film sees Remy burst from the window of no-rat’s land clutching his looted recipe book, the There is humour in the juxtaposition and in the anticipation of Emile’s answer, which comes out of the side of his mouth through clenched teeth. Emile is completely unselfconscious in his reply. Remy sees the irony but his voice and facial expression convey mixed emotions. By making a small joke at his brother’s expense he has confirmed his fear that his family will not understand his desire to cook, a fact he is not ready to acknowledge openly at this time. Instead, he makes a vain attempt to educate his brother. Before Remy can fully comprehend the extent of his problem, however, fate intervenes to separate him from his family. Remy tirelessly seeks his family but instead finds Gusteau’s kitchen. He is still alone, but now the means of becoming a chef are dangled tantalisingly before him. In the kitchen, however, he lacks the stature and status to fully grasp the opportunity (this is a source of some delightful slapstick comedy). By the time Remy sees his family again he has formed a partnership with Linguini: Remy wants to cook, and Linguini has a job in the kitchen; Remy can cook, and Linguini, who cannot, wants to succeed and to impress. The audience have several opportunities to meet Remy’s family. The first impression is that there is a very large number of members who act together. Clearly, family membership is fully inclusive, with vertical and horizontal blood and marital relationships supplemented with wider family connections.2 The inclusiveness, however, is overdone: as Remy moves among the pipes and waterways under the streets and in the walls of buildings, he never meets or observes another extended family. This is problematic because it causes slippage between Remy’s family and his species.3 While there are times when Remy and his family are characterised as rats, the audience is encouraged to read Remy as human through his highly developed moral and ethical values, his charm and his human-like behaviours, such as the way he makes eye contact.4 When reading Remy as human, by extension his family must also be read as human, in which case they are represented as undifferentiated from wider class, ethnic or racial groups.5 In scenes where family interaction takes place, a few rats are individuated. These are the patriarchs. Their authority, in particular as the keepers of the canon of Rat Tradition, is apparent in their critical attitude towards Remy’s father, Django (Brian Dennehy), himself a patriarch with the good of the group at heart. Django’s peers demonstrate first suspicion, but then sympathy once they realise he does not support Remy’s plans. Even Emile does not understand his brother. As with close-knit human extended families, unity rests on acceptance of established authority and on traditional rites of passage. Unlike human families, this one is alone, without any point of comparison that might suggest a viable compromise. Clearly, Django must choose ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION broken window foreshadowing his willingness to break with tradition. Bird economically sets up the developing tension between Remy and his family’s values in a key scene that, although a flashback, echoes this opening. Remy’s brother, Emile (Peter Sohn), emerges through the top of a pile of garbage, right in the centre of a custard-cream square. For Emile, food of any kind is valuable, and returning to the group is the only possibility at the end of the forage. This message is clarified later when Remy tests his understanding of his own difference by asking Emile if he ever thinks about what he puts in his mouth. Emile speaks out of the side of his mouth, never losing hold on his bag of leftovers. The tracking two-shot of the pair at Emile’s eye level heightens the contrast between him and Remy, who walks upright and carries a single mushroom. 139 2009 between maintaining his credibility and supporting his son. The family keeps to itself, and this helps preserve its traditions. If we think of Remy as human, we might imagine him attending a mainstream school and learning to think about himself more as an individual. Conflicting loyalties would still arise, but he might not wait for serendipity to deliver him to Gusteau’s restaurant. If a significant number of family members behaved in this way, group coherence would be weakened. Each non-conformist would present a challenge to tradition: we might expect a patriarch to regard the possibility of such change with horror and a sense of cultural loss. ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION 140 This is exactly how Django reacts. When he learns that Remy wants to return to the café, he threatens withdrawal of affection then says, ‘Maybe you are not a rat at all,’ implying that species/ethnic identity is at stake. He takes this line further when he shows Remy the bodies of the rats in the traps. One effect of this scene is to demonstrate traditional rat notions of masculinity as underpinned by a mythology of rats good/ humans bad. Rat machismo loses some of its strength and much of its complexity, however, without the presence of women or girls. In a narrative so securely founded in family, we might expect that, if not mothers, at least sisters and aunts would show an interest in Remy’s return after he has been given up for dead. This is one of the places in the film where the slippage between Remy’s identity as a rat and as a human threatens the stability of the narrative. Firstly, if the symbolic relationship is to be maintained, then the dead rats can be read as a fairly obvious allusion to the actions of America with respect to recent wars. But rats are hunted and killed by all humans, including victims of war. Secondly, in terms of the diegesis, while the reader understands that Django is angry and that he is right to be upset, his attempt to pass on learned hatred and prejudice is framed as unacceptable and as anti-tolerance in terms of the Western contemporary values demonstrated by Remy. This marks the patriarchs Django and the Rat as jingoistic, ignorant and unduly conservative. Youth is pitted against age; respect for elders is implied as being anti-progress and anti-modern. And to mainstream audiences the patriarchs do seem oldfashioned, while Remy is marked as progressive, discerning and morally superior. His ambitions constitute a version of the American dream that is itself a founding myth. Thus it is easy to underestimate the value of Django’s native culture and tradition: at this point we may even dismiss him as a stumbling block to Remy’s ‘advancement’ rather than credit him with being a formative influence in Remy’s development to date. Linguini: a boy alone Linguini is not a good advertisement for the nuclear family, and therefore has the more conventional character arc. At first he lacks selfawareness, he lacks friends, and it is clear he has not had to negotiate relationships with siblings. He has no idea how to behave at work, how to form new relationships, where he fits into society or how to look after himself. We see this initially in his demeanour, in his sheepish admission that he has lost several jobs, and in his inability to finish a sentence. It comes as no surprise, then, when Linguini is derelict in his duty. This builds from a failure to clean up after himself at work to his naive acceptance of alcohol, flattery and praise that rightly belongs to Remy and Colette. At this point in the narrative Linguini’s ego is out of control. First it renders him vulnerable, then it leads him into betraying his friends. His initial efforts to make amends for his bad behaviour are clumsy and motivated by self-interest. He wishes to fulfil his role as a chef, but cannot do so without Remy, and he loves Colette. Furthermore, without their friendship he is again alone in the world. Gradually Linguini realises that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he wants to please others more than he wants to please himself; that to have friends he must also be a friend. This is the very world that threatens to overpower Colette, who is pressed into the service of the patriarchy here. Her main function from this point on is to provide Linguini with the means of renewing his nuclear family. artist. In this case Linguini’s mother has protected his father (and the canon of high art) at the expense of her child. A less obvious implication is that Linguini might not have realised his own potential if he had grown up in Gusteau’s shadow, in which case his mother has attempted to act in her child’s best about his father is all it takes to set Linguini on the path towards an integrated sense of identity. While knowing our heritage is important (I do not wish to suggest otherwise) the following implications remain: firstly, that a present and involved father is not a necessity in a child’s upbringing, and secondly, that a sole T he dead rats can be read as a fairly obvious allusion to the actions of America with respect to recent wars. Her career advancement, in the end, is dependent on a wealthy spouse whose business benefits from her talent. Linguini must shape up or get out of the kitchen, but he has a kitchen by right of birth. Several unfortunate implications arise from the B storyline. Firstly, there is the notion that commitment to family would have limited Gusteau’s achievement as an interests. More disturbing, though, is the implication that Gusteau’s absence from Linguini’s upbringing accounts for his son’s shallow personal development; that Linguini’s immature behaviour is the result of his being a ‘mother’s boy’. Fatherhood is more directly misrepresented. Django is improved by his son’s teaching rather than the other way around, and knowledge female parent is unable to ensure a boy’s normal development. Because this is a delightful story beautifully rendered in high quality animation with many comic moments that destabilise real-world logic and characters that set the audience up for more positive readings, it is tempting to leave such issues unexamined. ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION This ups the ante with respect to the narrative tension and character development. Linguini has raised his sights only to fall. His internal struggle is set against Remy’s physical effort to prove that Gusteau is actually Linguini’s father – something Linguini’s mother chose to conceal – and to secure Gusteau’s legacy for Linguini. Remy’s size and rat-hood make this an act of heroism and the effect on Linguini is electric. He matures before our eyes as he realises first that his father could not have abandoned him, since he was not aware of Linguini’s existence, and then that as the son of a great man he has a secure place in the world. 141 2009 The workplace In the kitchen, Skinner’s histrionics are a clear reference to contemporary reality television shows where apprentices are reduced to tears of powerlessness. Like animation, television has been regarded as a lesser medium than those associated with the For instance, while the Rat family is well mannered and loving, the male sous-chefs are surly, uncooperative and devoid of team spirit. They are also highly competitive and dislike the thought that they might be outdone by a woman. Thus they are unhelpful to the severely herself shows that she resists the temptation to collude in her own marginalisation. At first the chefs tolerate Linguini as the son of a good friend of their idol. Then, as he appears to demonstrate talent, they grudgingly begin to transfer their allegiance. G radually Linguini realises that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he wants to please others more than he wants to please himself; that to have friends he must also be a friend. ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION 142 fine arts. Both have been, until recently, largely ignored by critics and academics alike.6 Clearly Ratatouille can be read as a metaphor for the history and current status of animation itself. Furthermore, comparing Skinner’s interpersonal exchanges to those of Django suggests that it is the patriarchs, the keepers of tradition, who set the tone for the behavior of their respective groups. over-burdened Colette, through whom issues of gender inequality are explored. She is marginalised as an artist and a colleague. She has had to be strong and remain focused on her career in order to gain credibility in what is considered a ‘man’s’ medium. That she has learnt not to expect her workmates’ support, loyalty or respect while retaining these qualities That they are short-sighted and self-centred is evident when they fail to give credit to Colette, who mentors Linguini. This foreshadows the sudden collapse of their budding group identity when Remy is revealed as the real artist. The sous-chefs turn their backs on Linguini, firstly because he has deceived them, something they might forgive if only the talent were vested in someone they could accept. Secondly, while the chefs admire the dishes they thought were produced by Linguini, they retrospectively reject those same works of art because they were actually produced by Remy. As far as the sous-chefs are concerned, Remy does not have the credentials to be an artist. To acknowledge his talent would be to demean the principles of haute cuisine and, by association, demean their own status. The chefs’ inability to come to terms with the facts paves the way for the critic, Anton Ego (Peter O’Toole), the arbiter of haute cuisine, to rethink his ideas. Ego has caused a loss of morale at the café through the severity of his review but he learns to be more humble and to give credit where credit is due. Remy facilitates this change by serving him ratatouille, a dish Ego recalls from his childhood. The film uses flashback to communicate Ego’s reconnection with his family, an epiphany that changes his priorities so that he rejects the canonical constructs that underpin his work as a critic. This clinches the point about art as something for anyone who can appreciate it, and Ego’s efforts to make amends echo Linguini’s efforts to make amends for his betrayal of his friends. More importantly, Ego’s acceptance of Remy’s art prepares Ego for the realisation and the authoritative declaration that a ‘great cook can come from anywhere’.7 Everything in its place Linguini’s epiphany comes when he realises that not everyone can be an artist, that he is a good waiter, that waiting on tables is a respectable profession and that he does not have to prove himself as a chef. He is (finally) Colette’s equal in selfknowledge, maturity and industriousness. Their heterosexual coupling heralds the renewal of his nuclear family which will be well provided for by the family business. Thus the resolution reinstates mainstream values. This is also the case with respect to the extended family. Although the rats accept Remy as one of them (even if he is a little odd), and although they learn to appreciate his cuisine, they all remain hidden in their own parallel and secret society above Café Ratatouille. 3 Dr Brenda Allen teaches film and media at the University of Auckland. She has published articles฀on฀ilm฀and฀on฀poetry.฀ • Endnotes Paul Wells, Understanding Animation, Routledge, London, 1998, p.187. Wells’ emphasis. See also J. Zornado’s analysis of Monsters, Inc. (Peter Docter & David Silverman, 2001) in ‘Children’s Film as Social Practice’, CLC Web: Comparative Literature and Culture, vol. 2, no. 10, June 2008, <http://docs.lib.pur due.edu/cgi/viewcontent. cgi?article=1354&context= clcweb>, accessed 26 November 2008. 2 The term ‘vertical relationships’ refers to lineage whereas the term ‘horizontal relationships’ refers to a wide variety of peers, including cousins, in-laws 1 4 5 and less formal family connections based on long standing co-residence and/ or emotional or psychological ties. An anthropomorphic character has mixed ontological status because his or her representation refers to more than one referent. Remy is both a boy and a rat, yet neither a boy nor a rat. As an animated character he is also complicated by the way animators both seek and reject realism as part of their art. Wells notes that ‘animation … has fundamentally resisted “reality” as its governing aesthetic agenda’. Stephen Prince, however, notes in ‘True Lies: Perceptual Realism, Digital Images, and Film Theory’, Film Quarterly, vol. 3, no. 49, Spring 1996, pp.27–37, that although ‘CGI by its very nature challenges indexically based notions of photographic realism’, animators ape film and camera work such as motion blur in an effort to achieve the kind of realism associated with photography. Paul Wells points out that an anthropomorphic character ‘reconciles “alien-ness” … with the “familiarity” of human beings and provides the visual foundation for the character to begin behaving like a human being’ (p.129). Wells’ emphasis. Lou Romano (Linguini) believes that because the rats are ‘outcasts’, giving them an American accent counters negative readings 6 7 8 of their difference. See Rebecca Murray, ‘Lou Romano Lends his Voice to Ratatouille’, About.com, <http://movies.about.com/ od/ratatouille/aratatlr061 307.htm>, accessed 7 September 2008. Clearly, however, issues of race, ethnicity and class are not negated by making the rats American. Animation has been underrated both as an art form and within film studies. This has led to the tendency of artists involved in animation to defend their medium. See Andrew Darley’s article ‘Bones of Contention: Thoughts on the Study of Animation’ in Animation: An Interdisciplinary Journal, vol. 1, no. 2, 2007, pp.63–76, <http:// anm.sagepub.com>, accessed 12 November 2008. The notion that an artist can come from anywhere is a small step from the notion that whatever his or her medium, the work created is, indeed, art. Thus Remy can be read as a symbol for the animator; Ego’s appreciation of ratatouille can be read as the critic coming down to earth and acknowledging the worth of animation; and Linguini can be read as animation – the child that the parent (art) is finally supporting. Christine Evely, ‘Rats in the Kitchen: Ratatouille Study Guide: A Select Menu of Activities’, Screen Education, no. 50, Winter 2008, pp.74–79. This Film As Text guide was produced by ATOM editor@atom.org.au > For more information on SCREEN EDUCATION magazine, or to download other free study guides: www.metromagazine.com.au > For hundreds of articles on Film as Text, Screen Literacy, Multiliteracy and Media Studies: www.theeducationshop.com.au > If you would like to be invited to free screenings for teachers, please email editor@atom.org.au writing ‘Subscribe’. Please indicate in which state or territory you are located. ISSUE 54 SCREEN EDUCATION As Christine Evely has already noted,8 Ratatouille is a rich text that can form the basis for discussion of a wide variety of issues. And, to be fair, many of the omissions and oversimplifications I have pointed out arise from production values exacerbated by the use of anthropomorphic characters and of comedic moments. It is important to understand, however, the ways in which the film’s implied social critique is flawed by the limited and partial representation of the two families and the underlying issues about art that actually pertain more to the status of animation than to boys or rats. Nevertheless, the representation of a variety of family structures and the necessity for adolescents to learn to negotiate a workplace where they are not loved or esteemed is among of the strengths of this film. 143