No matter how we look at the world, human beings long for connections and understanding. We long to be seen as we are, for the things we create, and the ways in which we contribute to the world. No one likes or wants to be the new kid—they don’t want to feel like outsiders or as though they’re somehow less than. Critics, as a whole, get a bad reputation. It’s easier to risk nothing and ostracize someone’s hard work from a distance. Yet, every once in a while, TV and film remind us of the other side of criticism—the reason we do what we do. One of my favorite instances of it occurs in Ted Lasso’s “Trent Crimm, the Independent,” and the next takes place in Ratatouille.
Ego’s review in Ratatouille is a stark reminder of how often humans hesitate to embrace the new. It’s a reminder that sometimes, it’s the film no one’s heard of with unknown actors. It’s the book that doesn’t go viral. It’s the show that seems absurd but will turn out to be the most magical thing you’ll watch all year (I’m talking about My Lady Jane. Please watch it). People, especially critics, are sometimes hesitant to give things a try. In fairness, there are days when we quite literally have too much on our plate, and it’s nearly impossible to digest everything at once because we sadly also need to take care of ourselves.
“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.”
Ego’s Review in Ratatouille
I think about this often—all the amazing books, movies, and TV shows I might never have time to watch. There are countless brilliant, creative people in this world, but today, in 2024, companies are letting people go left and right and diving deep into the novelty of AI. Yet, imagine this: a single person, brimming with talent and a vision, can’t even get a meeting with an executive at a large company to even pitch what’ll be the next best picture. We shun the new that comes from a human being’s experience, yet we embrace artificial intelligence that’s openly stealing from living artists? We’ve lost the plot, friends. This isn’t the same as a fictional film embracing the idea of a rat assisting a lowly dishwasher to become a renowned chef. This is an example of what it means to reject new kids at school because they look a bit different, but if someone brought in a droid, everyone would jump.Â
Our livelihoods matter. Money doesn’t grow on trees, and human connections cannot be made with robots. I can’t have the same heartfelt discussion about a piece of media I adore with someone who used AI to write a review when I sat there writing it through my tears and pouring all my emotions onto the page. The connections I’ve made with fellow critics, artists, PR representatives, and even admirers are all a result of our shared love for something real and soulful.Â
Ego’s review and Trent Crimm’s matter because they remind us that accepting people into our circles is a part of building a community. Outlets should be hiring more real writers. Authors should write their own books and hire real human artists for their cover designs. VFX should be done by the artists who’ve trained and perfected their craft. And hiring shouldn’t have to come from connections, either. We’ve normalized nepotism to the point where people apply for jobs with the firm belief that no one will even look at their application.Â
Reviews like Ego’s in Ratatouille remind us why we need to take what’s new and scream about it until it becomes familiar. Word of mouth travels faster than anything else—people are more inclined to do things if others are discussing them, and this is how we continue to build and keep art alive. It’s how we’ll continue signaling to creators that we never want them to stop telling their stories, making their artwork, or baking that delicious dessert we can’t get enough of. It’s a reminder many of us could use: critics, fans, creatives—all of us need it from time to time. To understand that our expertise isn’t going unnoticed or disregarded.
First Featured Image Credit: ©Disney