This post is a part of the France on Film Blogathon, hosted by Serendipitous Anachronisms. Day 1 focuses on French cinema, while day 2 will cover France as a film subject.
Ratatouille is a masterpiece of a film. It’s Pixar’s most adult film, the perfect balance of humor and emotion, with a great message about staying true to yourself no matter what society may think of you. It was one of the first films I ever reviewed on my blog (almost nine years ago, and it’s embarrassing to read), and one I’ve written about more than once. The moment when Anton Ego tastes Remy’s ratatouille and is transported back to his youth is one of my all-time favorite film moments, and I remember watching the film for the first time and sobbing from that moment through the end of the credits until the ushers came in to clean up the theater. But one of the most crucial, and often overlooked, aspects of the film is France itself, specifically the city of Paris, which beyond being just the setting for the story is almost a character on its own.Ratatouille is practically a love letter to Paris.
The Love Pirate 