About “Ratatouille” in a few words:

“Ratatouille” is an enchanting tale set in the heart of Paris, following Remy, a rat with an exceptional palate and dreams of becoming a chef. Amidst challenges and prejudices, he forms an unlikely bond with Linguini, a clumsy kitchen worker. Together, they challenge the norms and create culinary magic, proving that talent can emerge from the most unexpected places.

Meet the characters from Ratatouille

Remy

Remy is the heart-and-soul of Ratatouille, the tiny gourmet with the biggest dreams and the most ridiculous taste buds — like, he can sniff out a broth’s mood from across a rooftop. Obsessive about flavors, endlessly creative, and somehow both practical and wildly idealistic, he leads with curiosity and a stubborn sense of rightness. He’s brave in a quiet way (and also kind of reckless? he’ll absolutely hop on a stove in a thunderstorm if it smells right), and he convinces people — and rats — that imagination is more important than pedigree. Also he’s annoyingly sentimental — collects little scraps of recipe notes, hums while he works, cries at onions like a sap — but don’t let that fool you, he’s a mastermind. Fun useless fact: he claims to be nocturnal but will hang out in sunbeams for hours; tiny contradictions make him real, okay.

Linguini

Alfredo Linguini is the gawky, lovable disaster who somehow becomes the face of genius despite having no clue what he’s doing half the time. Basically an earnest, awkward kid masquerading as a chef — sweet, insecure, and panicky at the drop of a hat, yet totally endearing. He’s the bridge between human messiness and Remy’s culinary genius (and also terrible at remembering to eat his own food; go figure), and he grows into confidence by accident and persistence. Quirky thing: he’s allergic to confrontation but obsessed with hats — wears one dramatically when nervous — and sometimes he seems to forget his own name for comedic effect.

Colette

Colette Tatou is the no-nonsense powerhouse of the kitchen: fierce, precise, and built from pure discipline (but secretly into tiny romantic gestures? maybe, who knows). She’s the one who can turn an amateur into a real cook with a scowl and a single pointed correction, carrying a kind of tough-love mentorship like a badge. Practical, fast-talking, and actually soft in ways she’d never admit out loud, she’s also quirky — keeps a tiny knife-cleaning ritual that feels oddly spiritual. She’s unforgiving in the line of service but absurdly loyal to the people she trusts, and yes she probably has a secret stash of late-night butter croissants.

Anton Ego

Anton Ego is that terrifying, stylish food critic who makes you feel like your whole life hangs on a single line in his review — and honestly he revels in it. He’s razor-sharp, intimidating, and almost painfully cultured, with a palette that reads like a litmus test for authenticity and a flair for dramatic pronouncements. Beneath the cape of cynicism though, there’s this bruised, lonely kid of a memory that makes him capable of being changed by one perfect bite (yes, I cried a little). He’s ironically theatrical — he storms into a place like a thundercloud but will linger over a bowl of soup like a sleep-deprived monk savoring silence. Odd tiny detail: he keeps a drawer of old restaurant menus and occasionally doodles polite but savage marginalia in the margins — moody, exact, secretly sentimental.

Emile

Emile is Remy’s big-hearted brother and the embodiment of ‘eat first, ask questions later’ — loves food in the most uncomplicated, joyful way. He’s loyal, funny, a little lazy maybe, but also surprisingly wise about what really matters (mostly naps and snacks, not to be dramatic). Emile will shovel food into his mouth with zero pretense and then offer you half like it’s a moral duty; he hates waste but will eat anything, including questionable fridge science experiments. Small weirdness: he collects bottle caps for no reason and hums completely off-key while napping, which is somehow charming rather than tragic.