Pixar wiped its feces-excreting anus. There, ratatoing was born. Ratatoing is a cinematic concentration camp that has rats like my father’s skeletal carcass. It was a makeshift Ratatouille that starred nobody anybody knew about. Ratatoing is about four State of the Unions long and one disc too large. It is reviewed very poorly on the internet like a profile picture with too little sideboob. This film was more hated than Bill Cosby after he tried to help his sleep deprived interns get some shuteye using the power of drugs. Ratatoing lit up the movie theatres like abandoned infants survive snowstorms, given it didn’t. The movie was “absolute garbage” and “an animated nightmare” so the theatres rejected it like teenage girls reject the word moist. Ratatoing is an awful movie about a grotesquely unlikeable rat chef named Marcelle and his precisely infuriating counterpart, Greg. Fans decided to use this film to get hammered like a blacksmith’s unfaithful wench’s skull and created the Ratatoing drinking game. The only way some folk can enjoy the horrors that some people barely call an attempt to watch what someone thought was a movie is to endlessly pour a waterfall of alcohol down their gullets like a disappointed mother of any child that comes home and says “Blacks aren’t people, science is a belief and I’m off to join the Klan.” However, there are some factors that make this a good movie. Those factors being there is a cat and that the film ends. I’m going to do you a massive favor and save you from having your wallet ejaculate $2 for an unworthy purchase of this film and tell you how the first 20 minutes of the movie goes.
Some rats walk into a restaurant. A narrator halfheartedly introduces the Ratatoing film. The camera, acting as if it wants zero involvement in this film, goes into the restaurant. The rats at the main table eat the food and say its good. Rats at another table says its good. Rats at another table says its good. Rats at another table says its good. Rats at another table says its good. Some moustache rat says this isn’t the right sauce and that he wants to see the chef. The waitress says he is busy. He ask to see the chef. The waitress says he is busy. He ask to see the chef. The waitress says he is busy.He ask to see the chef. The waitress goes to the back to look for Marcelle. He is stirring a vat of green slime and he is very busy. Shocker. The chef halts his unbelievably major task, somehow, and sees the disgruntled rat. The angry rat says this is the wrong sauce. The chef says it is the right sauce. The angry rat sniffs the sauce and apologizes for the inconvenience. Then Marcelle and the waitress and Surprise green fat rat Greg all spend five minutes putting on goggles and go into a kitchen for ten minutes to get a strawberry. The angry rat from earlier forms a KKK Rat Edition meeting with some female rats to destroy Ratatoing so their unmentioned restaurant can get more business. If this is too long of a description, remember this was the first 20 minutes of the movie. If you spend more than $4 on this wretched circle of Satan, you are mortal scum.