Ratatouille

Rémy:
[frame freezes as Remy bursts frantically through a window carrying a book over his head] [voiceover] This is me. I think it's apparent I need to rethink my life a little bit. What's my problem? First of all, I'm a rat, which means life is hard. And second, I have a highly developed sense of taste and smell.

Linguini:
I know this sounds insane, but, well, the truth sounds insane sometimes. But that doesn't mean it's not the...the truth. And the truth is, I have no talent at all. But this rat, he's the one behind these recipes. He's the cook. The real cook. He's been hiding under my toque. He's been controlling my actions. He's the reason I can cook the food that's exciting everyone. The reason Ego is outside that door. You've been giving me credit for his gift. I know it's a hard thing to believe, but, hey, you believed I could cook, right? Look, this works. It's crazy, but it works. We can be the greatest restaurant in Paris, and this rat, this brilliant little chef, can lead us there.

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 extra-ordinary 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.

Remy:
If no one wants it, why are we stealing it?!

Django:
We are not...

Remy:
Let's just say we have different points of view.

Émile:
[referring to Rémy's bipedal gait] Why are you walking like that?

Rémy:
I don't want to constantly have to wash my paws. Do you ever think about how we walk on the same paws that we handle food with? Do you ever think about what we put into our mouths?

Émile:
All the time.

Rémy:
Ugh. When I eat, I don't want to taste everywhere my paws have been.

Émile:
Well, go ahead, but if Dad sees you walking like that, he's not gonna like it.

Émile:
Wait a minute... you read?

Rémy:
Well... not excessively.

Émile:
Aw, man! Does Dad know?

Rémy:
You could fill a book - a lot of books - with things Dad doesn't know. And they have, which is why I read. Which, is also our secret.

Émile:
I don't like secrets. All this cooking and...and reading and TV-watching, while we…read and cook. It's like you're involving me in crime, and I let you. Why do I let you?

Gusteau:
[as a book illustration] If you are hungry, go up and look around, Rémy. Why do you wait and mope?

Rémy:
Well, I just lost my family…all my friends. Probably forever.

Gusteau:
How do you know?

Rémy:
I…uh…you are an illustration. Why am I talking to you?

Gusteau:
Oh, you just lost your family, all your friends. You are lonely.

Rémy:
Yeah…well, you're dead.

Gusteau:
Ah, but that is no match for wishful thinking! If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead. Now go up and look around!

[Rémy's about to eat a bread crumb in someone's house when Gusteau appears before him.]

Gusteau:
What are you doing?!

Rémy:
I'm hungry! I don't know where I am, I don't know when I'll find food again!

Gusteau:
Rémy, you are better than that. You are a cook! A cook makes. A thief takes. You're not a thief.

Rémy:
But I am hungry.

Gusteau:
Rémy, food will come. Food always comes to those who love to cook.

Larousse:
Hey boss, look who's here! Alfredo Linguini, Renata's little boy! All grown-up. You remember Renata, Gusteau's old flame?

Skinner:
[disinterested] Oh, yes, how are you, uh…

Larousse:
Linguini.

Skinner:
Linguini. How is--?

Linguini:
M-My mother?

Larousse:
Renata.

Skinner:
Ah yes, Renata. How is she?

Linguini:
She's good. Well, not--She's been better. I-I mean, uh--

Horst:
She died.

Skinner:
[awkwardly] Oh. I'm...sorry.

Linguini:
Oh, no, don't be. She believed in heaven, so she's covered. You know, afterlife-wise. [he gives Skinner a letter]

Skinner:
[Annoyed] What's this?

Linguini:
She-she dropped it off for you. I-I think she hoped it would help me. You know, get a job...here.

Skinner:
[Losing interest again, walking away] Yes, well, we'll file this, and if something suitable opens up-

Larousse:
We already hired him.

Skinner:
[Furious] What?! How dare you hire someone without my permission-

Horst:
We needed a garbage boy.

Skinner:
Oh- well, garbage...I'm glad it worked out.

[Remy and Gusteau are talking about Linguini]

Gusteau:
What do I always say, Remy? Anyone can cook.

Rémy:
Well yeah, anyone can. That doesn't mean that anyone should.

Gusteau:
Well, that is not stopping him. See?

[Linguini has accidentally spilled a pot of soup and is attempting to cover up his mistake by throwing random ingredients into it.]

Rémy:
What?! What is he doing?! No...no! No, this is terrible; he's ruining the soup, and nobody's noticing?! It's your restaurant! Do something!

Gusteau:
What can I do? I am a figment of your imagination.

Rémy:
But he's ruining the soup!! We gotta tell someon-- [slips and falls]

[Linguini has trapped Rémy in a jar.]

Linguini:
What should I do now?

Skinner:
Kill it!

Linguini:
Now?

Skinner:
No, not in the kitchen! Are you mad?

Lawyer:
There's not much resemblance.

Skinner:
There's NO resemblance at all! He's not Gusteau's son.

Horst:
It's your recipe. How can you not know your own RECIPE?!

Larousse:
What if we SERVE THEM WHAT THEY ORDER?!

Colette:
WE WILL MAKE IT! Just tell us what you did.

Linguini:
I don't KNOW what I did!

Mustafa:
[taking Ego's order] Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir?

Anton Ego:
Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?

Mustafa:
With what, sir?

Anton Ego:
Perspective. Fresh out, I take it?

Mustafa:
I am, uh...

Anton Ego:
Very well. Since you're all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this BLOODY TOWN, I'll make you a deal. You provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947.

Mustafa:
I'm afraid... your dinner selection?

Anton Ego:
[stands up angrily] Tell your chef Linguini that I want whatever he dares to serve me. Tell him to hit me with his best SHOT.

He's dying to become a chef.

A Comedy with Great Taste.

A Mouse in a Kitchen... Cooking?!?!?!

[Remy and Gusteau are talking about Linguini]

Gusteau:
You’ve read my book. Let us see how much you know, huh? Which one is the chef?

Remy:
Oh. Uh... Oh, that guy.

Gusteau:
Very good. Who is next in command?

Remy:
The sous chef... There. The sous is responsible for the kitchen when the chef’s not around. Saucier, in charge of sauces. Very important. Chef de partie, demi chef de partie, both important. Commis, commis, they’re cooks. Very important.

Gusteau:
Ah, you are a clever rat. Now, who is that.

Remy:
Oh, him? He’s nobody.

Gusteau:
Not nobody. He is part of the kitchen.

Remy:
No, he’s a plongeur or something. He washes dishes or takes out the garbage. He doesn’t cook.

Gusteau:
But he could.

Remy:
Uh, no.

Gusteau:
How did you know! What do I always say, Remy? Anyone can cook.

Remy:
Well yeah, anyone can. That doesn't mean that anyone should.

Gusteau:
Well, that is not stopping him. See? [Linguini has accidentally spilled a pot of soup and is attempting to cover up his mistake by throwing random ingredients into it.]

Remy:
What, what is he doing...?! No... no! No, this is terrible! He's ruining the soup... and nobody's noticing?! It's your restaurant! Do something!

Gusteau:
What can I do? I am a figment of your imagination.

Remy:
But he's ruining the soup! We gotta tell someone that he’s– [slips and falls into the kitchen]

[Gusteau abruptly appears in front of Remy in the kitchen, startling him]

Gusteau:
Remy! What are you waiting for?

Remy:
Is this going to become a regular thing with you?!

Gusteau:
You know how to fix it. This is your chance.

[Remy is making a soup. And Remy turn to see Linguini. Linguini gasps]

Skinner:
The soup! Where is the soup? Out of my way. Move it, garbage boy! [seeing a ladle in Linguini's hand] You are cooking?! How dare you cook in my kitchen?! Where do get the gall to attempt something so monumentally idiotic? I should have you drawn and quartered! I'll do it! I think the law is on my side! Larousse, draw and quarter this man! After you put him in the duck press to squeeze the fat out of his head!

[as he's shouting, Lalo ladles some soup into a tureen and brings it to the waiter]

Linguini:
Oh no no no, oh no, don't let them, don't eat...

Skinner:
What are you blathering about?!

Linguini:
...the soup!

Skinner:
[sees the soup going out runs to stop it] Soup? Stop that soup! Noooooooo!

[Skinner bursts into the dining room to the stares of the diners, retreats back into the kitchen and watches through the window as the waiter serves the soup]

Solene LeClaire:
[tasting the soup] Waiter!

Skinner:
[gasps] Linguini! You're fired! F-I-R-E-D! FIRED!

[Mustafa comes back from the dining room.]

Mustafa:
She wants to see the chef.

Skinner:
[scared] B-but he...

[Skinner nervously goes out into the dining room. Linguini tries to escape, but Horst just grabs his collar. Colette tastes the soup; Skinner re-enters]

Colette:
What did the customer say?

Mustafa:
It was not a customer. It was a critic!

Colette:
Ego?

Skinner:
Solene LeClaire.

Colette:
LeClaire. What did she say?

Mustafa:
She likes the soup.

[Hidden under a sieve, Remy is trying to sneak away; Gusteau motions to him.]

Gusteau:
Wait.

Remy:
What do you mean, wait? You're the reason I'm in this mess!

Gusteau:
Someone is talking about your soup.

[Skinner tastes the soup]

Skinner:
[growling] What are you playing at?

Linguini:
[uncertain] I, um, uh... am I still fired?

Colette:
You can't fire him.

Skinner:
What?

Colette:
LeClaire likes it, yeah? She made a point of telling you so. if she write a review to that effect and find out you fired the cook responsible?

Skinner:
He's a garbage boy.

Colette:
Who made something she liked! How can we claim to represent the name of Gusteau if we don't uphold his most cherished belief?

Skinner:
And what belief is that, Mademoiselle Tatou?

Colette:
Anyone can cook.

[Skinner looks around at the other cooks, who are smiling with approval]

Skinner:
Perhaps I have been a bit harsh on our new garbage boy. He has taken a bold risk, and we should reward that, as Chef Gusteau would have. If he wishes to swim in dangerous waters, who are we to deny him?

[Gusteau clears his throat]

Remy:
Hmm.

Gusteau:
You were escaping?

Remy:
Oh, yeah.

Skinner:
Since you have expressed such an interest in his cooking career, you shall be responsible for it. Anyone else? Hmm... [Pauses] Then back to work! [to Linguini, in a low, menacing voice] You are either very lucky or very unlucky. You will make the soup again, and this time I'll be paying attention. Very close attention. They think you might be a cook. But you know what I think, Linguini? I think you're a sneaky, overreaching little... [gasps, sees Remy escaping] RAAAT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

[Skinner grabs a stick and hits Remy]

Horst:
Get the rat!

Skinner:
Linguini! Get something to trap it!

Horst:
It's getting away! Get it, get it, get it!

Linguini:
[has trapped Remy in a jar] What should I do now?

Skinner:
Kill it!

Linguini:
Now?

Skinner:
No, not in the kitchen! Are you mad? Do you know what happens when people find out we have a rat in our kitchen? They'll close us down! Our reputation is hanging by a thread as it is. Take it away from here. Far away. Kill it. Dispose of it. Go!

Man:
I know about the foie grad. The old standby, used to be famous for it. What does the chef have that’s new?

[Mustafa pauses, visibly shocked. Cut to Mustafa bursting into the kitchen.]

Mustafa:
[panicked] Someone has asked what is new!

Horst:
New?

Mustafa:
Yes! What do I tell them?

Horst:
Well, what did you tell them?

Mustafa:
I told them I would ask!

Skinner:
What are you blathering about?

Horst:
Customers are asking what is new!

Mustafa:
What should I tell them?

Skinner:
What did you tell them?

Mustafa:
[exasperated] I told them I would ask!

Skinner:
This is simple. Just pull out an old Gusteau recipe, something we haven't made in a while...

Mustafa:
They know about the old stuff. They like Linguini's soup.

Skinner:
They are asking for food from Linguini?

Lalo:
A lot of customers like the soup. That’s all we are saying. Were we saying that?

Skinner:
Very well. If it’s Linguini they want, tell them Chef Linguini has prepared something special for them. Something definitely off-menu, hmm. Oh, and don’t forget to stress it’s Linguini-ness.

Horst:
Oui, chef.

Skinner:
Now is your chance to trying something worthy of your talent, Linguini. A forgotten favorite of the chef’s, sweetbreads la Gusteau. Collette will help you.

Colette:
Oui, chef.

Skinner:
Now, hurry up. Our diners are hungry!

Larousse:
Are you sure? Sweetbread la Gusteau was a disaster! Gusteau himself said so!

Skinner:
Just the sort of challenge a budding chef needs!

Anton Ego:
What is it, Ambrister?

Ambrister:
Gusteau's...

Anton:
Finally closing, is it?

Ambrister:
No.

Anton:
More financial troubles?

Ambrister:
No, it's... it's...

Anton:
Announced a new line of microwave egg-rolls? What, what?! Spit it out!

Ambrister:
It's come back, it's... popular.

Anton:
[partly spits out a mouthful of wine, before checking the label, then roughly swallowing the rest of the wine] I haven't reviewed Gusteau's in years.

Ambrister:
No, sir.

Anton:
My last review condemned it to the tourist trade.

Ambrister:
Yes, sir.

Anton:
[Pulling out a printed copy of his review] I said, "Gusteau has finally found his rightfully place in history, right along side another equally famous chef, Monsieur Boyardee."

Ambrister:
Touché.

Anton:
That is were it left it, that was my last word. The... last... word.

Ambrister:
[cowering] Yes.

Anton:
Then tell me Ambrister; how could it be popular?

Skinner:
No, no, no, no, NO, NOOO!! NOOOO! [Kicks drawer]

Talon:
The DNA matches, the timing works, everything checks out. He is Gusteau’s son.

Skinner:
T-t-this can’t just happen! The whole thing is a set-up! The boy KNOWS! [Skinner goes to his window and parts of the blinds to the kitchen] Look at him out there- pretending to be an idiot! He’s toying with my mind, like a cat with a ball! Of... Something!

Talon:
String?

Skinner:
Yes! Playing dumb! Taunting me with that rat!

Talon:
[confused] Rat?

Skinner:
Yes! He’s consorting with it! Deliberately trying to making me think it’s important!

Talon:
The rat?

Skinner:
Exactly!

[Talon looks at Skinner, visibly confused.]

Talon:
Is the rat... important?

Skinner:
[pause] Of course not! He just wants me to think that it is! Oh, I see the theatricality of it; a rat appears on the boy’s first night, I order him to kill it and now he wants me to see it everywhere! [High voice] OOOH!! [snaps fingers wildly] It’s here, no, it isn’t, it’s HERE! Am I seeing things? Am I crazy? Is there a phantom rat or is there not?! But ohhh, no! I refuse to be sucked into his little game... of...

[Skinner realizes what he is doing and stops, then looks at Talon]

Talon:
...Should I be concerned about this? About... you?

Remy:
It’s locked? Hmm...

[Remy goes into Skinner’s office]

Gusteau:
Remy, what are you doing in here?

Remy:
[harassed] Okay. Emile shows up with... Okay, I said not to. I told him! He goes and blabs to... Yeah, It’s a disaster! Anyway, they’re hungry, the food safe is locked, and I need the key.

Gusteau:
They want you to steal food?

Remy:
Yes. No! It’s... Ugh! It’s complicated. It’s family. They don’t have your ideals

Texan Gusteau:
Ideals? If Chef Fancy Pants had any ideals you think I'd be hawkin' barbecue over here?

Mexican Gusteau:
Or Microwave burritos?

Colonel Gusteau:
Yeah! Or tooth- I say, tooth-pickin' Chicken? About a French as a corn dog!

[The sketch of Gusteau as a dog-like ear of corn then barks and waves a coming soon sign]

Corndog Gusteau:
[barks] Rumming Roon!

Texan Gusteau:
Ha! We're inventin' new ways to sell out over here!

Scottish Gusteau:
Will ye' be wantin' some haggis bites, then?.

Gusteau:
I cannot control how they use my image Remy, I am dead!

Remy:
Will you guys SHUT UP?! [All the Gusteaus stop bickering instantly] I’ve gotta think! [Remy climbs over the edge of Skinner’s desk, pushes open the drawer, and begins to rummage through its contents] Word’s getting out and if I can’t keep them quiet...the entire clan’s going to be after me with their mouths open and- [he finds the key] --Ah! Here it is. Hey... [he notices a FILE labeled “Gusteau: Last Will & Testament”. He turns to the Gusteau portrait] ...your will! [pulls the file from the drawer and lays it on the desk] Oh, This is interesting. Mind if I--?

Gusteau:
Not at all.

Remy:
[He flips open the file. There, alongside Gusteau’s will, are recent press clippings featuring Linguini, and the letter to Skinner from Linguini’s mother] “Linguini”..? Why would Linguini be filed with your will?

Gusteau:
This used to be my office.

[The music starts to build as Remy reads; his eyes jumping between the letter and the will, his eyes getting bigger and bigger until...]

Remy:
HE'S YOUR SON?!

Gusteau:
[equally shocked] I have a SON?!

Remy:
How could you not know this?

Gusteau:
[defensively] I am a figment if your imagination. You did not know, how could I?

Remy:
Well, YOUR SON is the rightful owner of this restaurant!

[Just then, Skinner opens the office door and freezes, stunned by the bizarre sight of a rat on his desk top! Remy snatches the documents in his mouth.]

Skinner:
No...! NO!! THE RAT!!!

[He pounces for Remy, but the rat's too quick for him. Remy races out into the street. Hot on his heels, Skinner runs smack into Lalo on a moped.]

Lalo:
Sorry, Chef!

Skinner:
The rat! It's stolen my documents! It's getting away!

[Skinner pushes Lalo off the scooter, jumps on and roars off down the street. Skinner screeches to a stop at the intersection, looking around wildly for Remy. He sights the documents scampering through traffic and guns the motor, recklessly giving chase. Closing in on Remy, Skinner reaches down to snatch the documents when the rat suddenly veers. Skinner and his moped go plummeting down a flight of steps to the river, where it lays in a heap at the bottom. A gust from a passing bus sweeps the will from Remy’s jaws and high into the air, where it flutters out over the river’s edge. Seeing his chance, Skinner clambers aboard the moped and takes off after the will, dodging obstacles and passers-by to pursue from the banks below. Remy chases it from the balustrade above, the letter still in his mouth. The will begins to descend, flitting toward Skinner below, who reaches for it, his fingers spreading wide. Remy makes two desperate leaps; from the balustrade to a tree, from the tree into the air just above Skinner where he just intercepts the will, sailing toward the water and landing with a FWOP on the canvas roof of a Bateux Mouche. Refusing to lose, Skinner ditches the moped and leaps to the deck of the Seine boat. Remy, documents in mouth, leaps to another passing boat, Skinner still hot on his tail. A jam of water traffic keeps this game alive, the two leaping from boat to boat, but the leap, to a dining boat, is too far. Remy tries anyway; launching into the air, the documents in his mouth sweep back like WINGS and he catches an updraft! He sails across the gulf, landing miraculously on the deck. Skinner crazily follows, making the leap of his life as he stretches out for the dining boats’ railing and ultimately falls short, grasping instead the tablecloth of a couple dining near the railing, which he yanks out from under their breakfast like an inept magician as he plunges into the river. Skinner sputters in the middle of the Seine as Remy hops up to a bridge passing overhead, scampering safely away with Skinner’s papers.]

Linguini:
Bonjour, ma chrie. Join us. We were just taking about my inspiration.

Colette:
Yes, he calls it his tiny chef.

Linguini:
Not that, dearest. I mean you.

[Anton Ego appears during Linguini’s press conference, surprising and shocking the journalists.]

Anton Ego:
You are monsieur Linguini?

Linguini:
Uh, hello...

Anton:
Pardon me for interrupting your premature celebration, but I thought it only fair to give you a sporting chances as you are new to this game.

Linguini:
Uh... game?

Anton:
Yes, and you’ve been playing without an opponent, which is, as you may have guessed... against the rules.

Linguini:
You’re Anton Ego...!

Anton:
You’re slow for someone in the fast lane.

Linguini:
And you’re a thin for someone who like food! [Journalists gasps]

Anton:
I don’t like food, I love it. If I don’t love it, I don’t swallow. [Linguini gulps nervously] I will return tomorrow night with high expectations. Pray you don’t disappoint me. [leaves]

Colette:
Listen, we hate to be rude, but we’re French, and it’s dinnertime.

Linguini:
She mean to say, “It’s dinnertime and we’re French.” [scene cuts putting the hat down and Remy looks at Linguini furiously] Don’t give me that look! You were distracting me in front of the press! How am I supposed to concentrate with you yanking on my hair all the time? And that’s another thing! Your opinion isn’t the only one is matter here! Colette knows how to cook, to you know! OW! All right, that’s it! [Skinner watches as Linguini runs away outside] You take a break, Little Chef. I’m not your puppet! And you’re not my puppet controlling-guy!

Skinner:
[gasps] The rat is the cook!

Linguini:
You cool off and get your mind right, Little Chef! Ego was coming and I need to focus!

Remy:
[angrliy] You... Uhhhh! [kicks a can] You stupid... [Remy picks up the bottle, straning, grumbling, when he sees Emile, until he breaks the bottle]

Emile:
Wow. I have never seen that before.

Rat:
Yeah, it’s like your his fluffy bunny or something.

[All the rats laughing]

Emile:
I’m sorry, Remy. I know there are too many guys. I tired to limit...

Remy:
You know what, it’s okay. I’ve been selfish. You guys hungry?

Rat:
What, are you kidding me.

Remy:
All right, Dinner’s on me, We’lll go after closing me [rats laughing] In fact...

All Rat:
[cherring] Yeah!

Remy:
Tell dad to bring the whole clan.

Linguini:
[opens the door] Little Chef?

Django:
Oh, this is great, son! An inside job, huh, I see the appeal.

Remy:
Shh!

[Remy opens the door and comes in, Django whistles with all the rats walking and hiding the kicthen and rats get in line to get food. And then they hear the door open, and rats gasp and hide on the floor]

Linguini:
Little Chef? [turns the lights on] Little Chef? Oh, hey, hey, Little Chef. I thought went back to the apartment. Then when you weren’t there, I, uh, I don’t know, I... It didn’t seem right to leave thing the way that we did, so. Look, I don’t want to fight. I’ve been under a lot of you know, pressure. A lot of change in not very much time, you know? I’m suddenly a Gusteau. And I got be a Gusteau, or you know, people will be disappointed. [Emile eat the grapes] It’s too weird. You know, I’ve never disappointed anyone before. Because, nobody’s ever expected everything of me. And the only reason anyone expects anything for me now it’s because of you. I haven’t been fair to you. You’ve never fail me and I should never forget that. You been a good friend. The most honorable friend a guy could ever ask... [Emile falls onto the floor and cheese causes him to spit out grapes on Linguini’s neck] Ugh! What... [Remy gasps] What is this? What’s going on? [turn lights to find rats escaping] What? Hey! [too see that Remy has betrayed him] you're-you're stealing food? Wha... how could you? I... I thought you were my friend! I TRUSTED YOU! [The door bursts open when all the rats running out, a furious Linguini chasing them with mop] GET OUT! You and all your rat buddies! And don't come back, or I'll treat you the way restaurants are supposed to treat pests!

[Linguini slams the door, throws a mop on the floor and walks off. Sadly, Remy, Emile, Django walks up to look at the door alone]

Remy:
You’re right, dad. Who am I kidding? You know, we are what we are, and we’re rats. Well, he’ll leave soon, and now you know how to get in. Steal all you want.

Django:
You’re not coming?

Remy:
I’ve lost my appetite.

Mustafa:
[taking Ego's order] Do you know what you'd like this evening, sir?

Anton:
Yes, I think I do. After reading a lot of overheated puffery about your new cook, you know what I'm craving? A little perspective. That's it. I'd like some fresh, clear, well-seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?

Mustafa:
With what, sir?

Anton:
Perspective. Fresh out, I take it?

Mustafa:
I am, uh...

Anton:
Very well. Since you're all out of perspective and no one else seems to have it in this bloody town, I'll make you a deal. You provide the food, I'll provide the perspective, which would go nicely with a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947.

Mustafa:
[Visibly confused] I'm afraid... your dinner selection?

Anton:
[stands up angrily] Tell your chef, Linguini, that I want whatever he dares to serve me. Tell him to hit me with his best shot.

[Mustafa retreats as Anton Ego resumes his seat; nearby, Skinner is in disguise and comments to his waiter.]

Skinner:
I will have whatever he is having.

[Scenes cut to Remy in a cage]

Gusteau:
So, we have given up.

Remy:
Why do you say that?

Gusteau:
We are in a cage, inside a car trunk awaiting a future in frozen food products.

Remy:
No, I’m the one in a cage. I’ve given up. You... are free.

Gusteau:
I am only as free as you imagine me to be. As you are.

Remy:
Oh, please. I’m sick of pretending. I pretend to be a rat for my father, I pretend to be a human for Linguini. I pretend you exist so I have someone to talk to! You only tell me stuff I already know! I know who I am! Why do I need you to tell me? Why do I need to pretend?!

[Gusteau chuckles and fades away.]

Gusteau:
But you don’t, Remy. You never did.

Horst:
It's your recipe. How can you not know your own recipe?!

Linguini:
I didn’t write it down, it just-- came to me!

Horst:
Well make it come to you again, ja? Because we can't serve this!

Mustafa:
Where’s my order?!

Linguini:
Can’t we serve them something else?! Something I didn’t invent?

Larousse:
This is what they’re ordering!

Linguini:
Make them order something else! Tell them we’re all out!

Pompidou:
We can’t be all out. We just opened.

Larousse:
I have another idea. What if we... serve them what they order?!

Colette:
We will make it! Just tell us what you did!

Linguini:
I don't know what I did!

Horst:
We need to tell the customers something!

Linguini:
Then tell them... tell them... AAAH! [Close doors]

[Larousse looks around, visibly confused.]

Larousse:
...Eh?

Django:
Remy.

Emile:
Don’t do it.

Django:
Remy! Don’t! Stop!

Emile:
They’ll see you. Stop.

Horst:
We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about what to do right...

Chef:
RATS!

Django:
Remy.

Horst:
Get my knife.

Linguini:
DON’T touch him! (to Remy) Thank for coming back, Little Chef. I know this sounds insane, but, well, the truth sounds insane sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the... the truth. And the trust is, I have no talent at all. But this rat, he’s the one behind these recipes. He’s the cook. The real cook. (put Remy on his head) He’s been hiding under my toque. He’s been controlling my actions. (Remy pulls Linguini’s hair causing his arms go up) He’s the reason I can cook the food that’s exciting everyone, the reason Ego is outside that door! You’ve been giving me credit for his gift. I know it’s a hard thing to believe, but hey, you-you believed I could cook right? Look, this works, it’s crazy, but it works. We can be the greatest restaurant in Paris and this rat, this brilliant little chef, can lead us there.

Skinner:
Ratatouille. They must be joking.

Anton Ego:
Mmm.

Skinner:
Mmm. [Skinner takes a bite, tries to resist enjoying it, then bursts angrily into the kitchen] WHO COOKS THAT RATATOUILLE?! I DEMAND TO KNOW! [Sees the clan of rats] Uh!

[Cut to a tied-up and gagged Skinner being thrown in the cooler with the health inspector, then to Anton Ego out in the dining room.]

Anton:
[running his finger through leftover sauce and licking it] I can’t remember the last time I asked to give my compliments to the chef. And now I find myself in the extraordinary position of having my waiter be the chef!

Linguini:
Thanks, but... I’m just your waiter tonight.

Anton:
Then who do I thank for the meal?

Linguini:
Uh... excuse me a minute?

[he skates into the kitchen; he and Colette have a brief, muffled, heated argument; Colette and Linguini both come out]

Anton:
[to Colette] You must be the chef...

Colette:
If you want to meet the chef, you will have to wait until all the other customer have gone.

Anton:
So be it.

[when the restaurant is empty Linguini and Colette bring Remy to meet Ego]

Remy:
At first, Ego thinks it’s a joke. But as Linguini explains, Ego’s smile disappears. He doesn’t retract beyond asking the occasional questions. And when the story’s done, Ego stands thanks us for the meal, and leave without another word. The following day, his review appears:

Anton:
In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fu to write and read.

Remy:
[after Ego's positive review is read] It was a great night. The happiest of my life. But the only thing predictable about life...[Gusteau's is condemned and shut down] ...is it's unpredictability. Well, we had to let Skinner and the health inspector loose! And of course, they "ratted" us out. The food didn't matter. Once it got out there were rats in the kitchen, oh, man, the restaurant was closed and Ego lost his job and his credibility. [Remy is telling his story to the other rats] But don't feel too bad for him. He's doing very well as a small business investor. He seems very happy.

Female rat:
How do you know?

Django:
Yeah.

[Remmy parts a leaf, revealing a much happier and healthier looking Anton Ego at a restaurant]

Remy:
Uh, gotta go. Dinner rush.

Colette:
You know how he likes it.

Linguini:
Thanks, little Chef. [Heads out into the dining room, to Ego's table] Can I interest you in a dessert this evening?

Anton:
Don’t you always?

Linguini:
Which one would you like?

Anton:
[towards Remy] Surprise me!

Gusteau:
What I say is true, anyone can cook... but only the fearless can be great.

Remy:
Pure porety.

Narrator:
But it was not to last. Gusteau's restaurant lost one of its five stars after a scathing review by France's top food critic Anton Ego. It was a serve blow to Gusteau, and the great Chef died shortly afterward, which according l to tradition, meant the loss of another star.

Remy:
Gusteau is dead?

Colette:
Anyone can cook.

[pause, Skinner looks around at the other cooks, who are smiling with approval]

Skinner:
Perhaps I have been a bit harsh on our new garbage boy. He has taken a bold risk, and we should reward that, as Chef Gusteau would have. If he wishes to swim in dangerous waters, who are we to deny him.

Gusteau:
You were escaping?

Remy:
Oh, yeah.

Skinner:
Since you have expressed such an interest in his cooking career, you shall be responsible for it. Anyone else? Hmm?! Then back to work! You are either very lucky or very unlucky. You will make the soup again, and this time I’ll be paying attention. Very close attention. They think you might be a cook, but do you know what I think, Linguini? I think you are a sneaky, overreaching little... [spots Remy attempting to escape] RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Grabs a broom and hits Remy with it]

Horst:
Get the rat!

[Everyone attempts to catch Remy]

Skinner:
Linguini! Get something to trap it!

Horst:
It’s getting away! Get it, get it, get it!

[Linguini has trapped Remy in a jar.]

Linguini:
What should I do now?

Skinner:
Kill it!

Linguini:
Now?

Skinner:
No!! Not in the kitchen! Are you mad?!?! If anyone knew we had a rat in our kitchen, they’d shut us down! Our reputation is hanging by a thread as it is! Take it away from here, far away! Kill it! Dispose of it! GO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Linguini:
Whoa! [hops onto his bicycle] Doh! Don't look at me like that! You're not the one only who's trapped! They expect me to cook it again! I'm mean, I'm not ambitious, I wasn’t trying to cook, I was just trying to stay out of trouble! You're the one who was getting fancy with the spices! [Furiously] What did you throw in there?! Oregano? No? What? Ro... uh, rosemary? That's a spice, isn't it? Rosemary? You didn't throw Rosemary in there? Then what was all the flipping, all the throwing the... [sighs] I need this job, I have lost so many, I do not know how to cook, and now I am actually talking to a rat as if you... [gasps] Did you nod?! Have you been nodding?! You understand me! So, I'm not crazy. Wait a second, wait a second. Uh, I can't cook, can I? [Remy shakes his head “no”] But you, heh, you can, right? Look, don't be so modest. You're a rat for a Pete's sake. Whatever you did, they liked it. Yeah.

Skinner:
Who cooked the ratatouille?! I demand to know!

Auguste Gusteau:
You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true. Anyone can cook, but only the fearless can be great.

Auguste Gusteau:
But you don't, Remy. You never did.

Anton Ego:
Yes, I like your heart roasted on a spit. (Laughs evilly)

Anton Ego:
I don't like food, I love it. If I don't love it, I don't swallow. [Linguini gulps nervously] I will return tomorrow night with high expectations. Pray you don't disappoint me.

Anton Ego:
Surprise me!