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.
— Anton Ego『Ratatouille』
Such A beautiful thing
I created this blog in honor of everything that is good in the world. Enjoy.
— Le Festin —『Ratatouille』
“This is the way things are. You can’t change nature.”
“Change is nature. The part that we can influence. And it starts when we decide.”
“Where are you going?”
“With luck, forward.”
Pixar did something of a re-release of some of their most recent films for a Memorial Day Weekend/extended preview of Brave promotion, so I made my parents come with me to see Ratatouille this morning. All Pixar films are incredible (with exception, apparently, of Cars 2 which I never saw, and yes, I even think A Bug’s Life is fantastic), but Ratatouille is by far my favorite because it has always felt like the “artist’s” Pixar film.
At its most basic, I think Ratatouille speaks to an audience of creative types. It’s the story of someone (something, I guess) from humble means who works to become bigger than he is meant to be. It’s about going for it and struggling. It’s about trying and failing but also trying and succeeding. I always get choked up during the final monologue delivered by Peter O’Toole’s fantastic impression of a food critic, Anton Ego, in which he states: “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.”
I saw Ratatouille for the first time in theaters when I was 16. Statements like that sounded good but didn’t mean much to me. At a much more pivotal point in my life, it means so much. It’s terrifying to think that in just about a year, I will be at the liberty and judgment of not just a small community of students and professors, but everyone. Trying to make something of being a writer is the scariest thing, and as I head into yet another summer at home, I once again put up armor in the defense of those from high school who always try to make me feel bad for the path I’m pursuing. New does need friends, and while I feel incredible comfortable in the small social scene I’m involved in at school, I can’t help but worry for the future.
That all said, Ratatouille is truly a beautiful film; if you haven’t seen it, I mean, dude, come on. I’m still a diehard Francophile, and its representations of France are respectful, beautiful, and humorous. It’s a film you should not go into with an empty stomach, because I’ve never been hungrier watching people listen to the crackle of animated baguettes. I’m so happy I sat down, nearly five years later, to re-watch it on the big screen, when I felt like I completely appreciate everything it stands for. I dig the story of an underdog (rat). I dig the story of the fierce, feminist, only-woman-in-the-kitchen Colette. I dig the gorgeous soundtrack.
“With luck, forward.” I die. Every time. I love it so.
(Source: sunrisetomoonshine)
Mojitos and books on the front lawn. It’s a perfect afternoon with @morganswank . (Taken with Instagram at Hogwarts)
Hazy summer days. Let’s go to the market & play.
Sprawling on the Ashburn Lawn, loving the 70 degrees temperature, and the still lit sky at 9pm.
(Source: takemetogoodtimes, via glitterandcliches)
(Source: takemetogoodtimes, via glitterandcliches)
Masuria, Poland (by Wojtek Toman)
(Source: andrewbreitel, via they-come-in-the-night)
(via thewildwoods)
