Featuring the voices of Patton Oswalt, Janeane Garofalo, and Peter O'Toole. Rated G.

Like so many cartoons through the ages, Ratatouille is about somebody little who dreams big, big, big. But the movie, with its devotion to pleasure, motion, and colour, is scaled exactly right and features some of the most gorgeous design and smartest writing ever to grace an animated feature by Pixar or anyone else.

This is a further triumph for writer-director Brad Bird, who went from directing The Simpsons to The Iron Giant and The Incredibles–all with stories about people struggling because they're different. Here, the odd creature out is Remy (voiced by comic Patton Oswalt), a French rodent blessed, or cursed, with a nose for the finer things. Naturally, humans don't care for his attraction to the kitchen, and fellow rats think he's freaky for choosing haute cuisine over bas garbage.

In any case, his adherence to a beloved, if deceased, chef called Gusteau literally saves Remy's life when he is separated from his family. The young rat ends up in Paris, in the recesses of Gusteau's old restaurant, currently being run into the ground by a little Napoleon named Skinner (hilarious Ian Holm). Those frozen Chopsocky Pockets really don't fit in with the late chef's ethos, to which Remy is privy, thanks to frequent visits from Gusteau's ghost (Brad Garrett).

In a kitchen as multicultural as modern Paris, our furry hero encounters a gormless scullery boy named Linguini (Lou Romano), who is unusually open to Remy's culinary input. The redheaded human is also drawn to the somewhat dangerous skills of feisty Colette (Janeane Garofalo), the only woman in the crew.

This unusual combo, goaded on by the opportunistic Skinner, is able to win back Paris's finicky palate. But will they be able to convince France's toughest food critic, Anton Ego? This ghoulish character, wonderfully voiced by Peter O'Toole, is an ascetic seemingly escaped from a Tim Burton cartoon. (Ego's soliloquy, near the end of the 110-minute movie, is the most profound thing here.)

The movie has other dark spots, including the usual attitude of humans toward their rodent brethren–although it's not entirely clear what the filmmaker is saying about this, given that he also expects us to stomach the idea of vermin stirring our vichyssoise.

Wherever you stand on this issue, you're going to be knocked out by some of the richest, most detailed animation ever accomplished in any style, and be sure to stick around for the closing credits. In the end, Ratatouille isn't just eye candy–it's an eye feast, with seven courses and a shot of brandy on the side.