What is the message of the movie Ratatouille?

Approaching its 15-year anniversary, Pixar’s Ratatouille has proven it stands the test of time. In fact, Ratatouille has never held such a prevalent position in the hearts, minds, and social media feeds of the general populous. While largely for its meme-ability, audiences Gen-Z and beyond continue to return to the story of the rat-turned-chef time and time again. And though TikTok may have us believing otherwise, at the center of this ever-growing affection for Ratatouille is still its earnest, foundational message: Anyone can cook.

It’s this emotional backbone of the film that has made a funny, internet-humor-prone film an instant classic, only a decade-and-a-half after the movie’s release. A natural conclusion may be that Remy, our heroic rat lead, is the reason this saying lives on. An equally plausible argument could also be made that gangly garbage-boy Linguini’s arc is the reason for the ephemerality of the film. While we watch the little dreamer run around Paris in search of a better, more fulfilling existence, and witness Linguini grapple with his lack of kitchen savvy, these are rather surface-level, expected portrayals of “anyone can cook.”

Image via Pixar

What Ratatouille’s enduring central message and long-lasting appeal truly hinges upon is a deeper, subtler application of “anyone can cook,” courtesy of Colette.

Consider the first time we meet Colette. The bob-haired culinista appears incredulous at the soup Linguini has apparently concocted, but remains wordless. When Skinner threatens to fire Linguini, one of the first things we hear Colette say is: “You can’t fire him … How can we claim to represent the name of Gusteau when we don’t uphold his most cherished belief? … Anyone can cook.” From inside the chef’s hat, Remy’s eyes light up, and the surrounding kitchen staff looks on in awe as Collette defends the garbage boy. From our first introduction, we learn that Colette is a believer in this ethos that Remy holds so dear, a true follower, in recipe and in life, of Gusteau. She goes to bat for Linguini, practicing those words we are spoon-fed throughout the film.

Which isn’t to say that Colette is any less exacting or demanding than the male chefs that surround her. The spiel she gives Linguini on his first day is now famous: “How many women do you see in this kitchen?” she asks. She says, and the audience can easily believe that, she is the toughest cook in that kitchen, having to scratch and claw her way to prove that she could cook is the reason she stands before Linguini today.

When her disciple shows success, she takes it in stride, thanking Linguini for listening to her, applauding his success as a fellow outsider. But she is not without her doubts. Soon pitted against Linguini, Colette turns to resentment and confusion. Though Linguini quells this disillusion with a kiss, it’s a short-lived revelry the two share. Matters are made (seemingly irrevocably) worse by the big reveal of the film: The moment Linguini comes clean about who has really been doing the cooking.

Faced with this startling truth, all the cooks, Colette included, walk out the door.

The men go first; Colette, with a visible pang of hurt, leaves last. As she races away from Gusteau’s in the rain, she comes to a crashing halt at a stoplight and turns her head to see a bookshop, and more importantly, Chef Gusteau’s book in the window, Anyone Can Cook. At this pivotal moment, Colette sees not only that book, but upon closer inspection, sees her own face in the window’s reflection. In that instant, as she turns around, Colette bolsters the entire message of Ratatouille.

The only woman in the gourmet kitchen, Colette shows us early on that what got her through the “antiquated hierarchy built upon rules written by stupid, old, men. Rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world,” was the philosophy of Anyone Can Cook. She demonstrates and articulates that Gusteau’s mantra applied to her own lot in life and to her disadvantage when trying to break into the still largely male-dominated fine dining industry. Despite these challenges, Colette proves she doesn’t just believe in the chef’s words as they apply to herself. While Linguini is under her tutelage, she describes bite-sized backstories for all the chefs: one ran away to the circus, one worked for a failed resistance, one was incarcerated for reasons unknown. She sees these backgrounds and dimensions as a positive, a connecting thread, and a reason for a one-time garbage boy to feel like he should belong among the oddballs and miscreants.

Faced with not only a shocking reveal (a rat has been her pupil, not a human man), but also the knowledge of a months-long deception on the part of Linguini, Colette’s natural instinct is to follow the men out the door and turn her back on the lowest of creatures.

Until that bookstore window. Until she, quite literally, sees herself in Anyone Can Cook. Until she sees herself in Chef Gusteau.

So when she returns, the only one willing to take that chance, she practices what she has preached yet again. Colette makes the hardest decision of anyone in the film: to work harder for a seat at the table than your counterparts, only to risk it all for someone whose lot in life is even less privileged than your own, is indeed nobler than Linguini risking newfound fame, Remy risking rejection, Ego risking reputation. In this way, Colette highlights another aspect of Chef Gusteau’s modus operandi that we hear him say from a black-and-white TV screen very early in the film: “Anyone Can Cook. But only the fearless can be great.”

There’s no question that Ratatouille is rich with reasons to watch and rewatch. Ego’s journey from cynical snobbery to a stop-and-smell-the-roses type is endearing; Linguini coming to terms with the expectations of his heritage is comforting; Remy being able to fulfill his dream of culinary excellence is inspiring. But in the end, it’s Colette’s reaffirmation of a dream that, in Ego’s words, keeps us coming back to Ratatouille’s central message, hungry for more.