Voices by Patton Oswalt, Lou Romano, Ian Holm, Janeane Garofalo, Peter O'Toole.

Running time: 110 mins WHO says animated film is just for kids? Until Pixar pioneered a revolution in computergenerated animation, adults were embarrassed to take it seriously.

The Academy Awards grudgingly created a category for animated film a few years ago which had the effect of letting voters off the hook: they couldn't be accused of passing over another Toy Story or A Bug's Life, but at the same time didn't need to consider them for best film.

Ratatouille demonstrates the patronising absurdity of this. On nearly every creative level . . . direction, cinematography, screenplay, characterisation . . . it rates among the best American films of the year. That's not to say that Ratatouille isn't a great family movie too. Its preposterous story about a rat with a fastidious nose who becomes a gourmet chef in a fivestar Paris restaurant is a feast of Laurel and Hardy slapstick mixed with delightfully choreographed thrills.

The characters of Remy and his vast extended family, led by no-nonsense dad Django and slouch of a brother Emile, are made beautifully believable as rats . . . despite their big cartoon eyes . . . by the realistic way they move and the tactile texture of their fur. Stylish camera angles allow them to blend with the human characters . . . particularly gauche kitchen boy Linguini, who becomes Remy's front man, and the feminist sous-chef Colette with whom Linguini becomes infatuated to the detriment of Remy's recipes.

Ratatouille is a rollercoaster ride of hair-raising confrontations starting with a manic sequence when an old lady with a shotgun confronts Remy and Emile as they attempt to pilfer her spices and choice cheeses, building momentum with a plunge through the sewers (setting a new high for computerrendered water effects), before propelling Remy into Auguste Gusteau's classic restaurant, now run by an upstart chef Skinner who has sold out its image by branching out into microwave food products for the American market. Although the great Gusteau died after a brutal review by much-feared food critic Anton Ego, he lives on as a mentor of Remy. "He's ruining the soup, and nobody is noticing, do something, " protests Remy.

"What can I do?" says Gusteau, "I'm a figment of your imagination." And that's the brilliance of Ratatouille. Children will love its slapstick fun and the appealing characters, the menu of the day, so to speak, but it also offers an a la carte of engaging philosophical ideas adults may indulge in according to taste.

"This is me, " says Remy. "I think it's apparent that I need to rethink my life a little bit. If you are what you eat, then I only want to eat the good stuff." To which his dad replies, "Shut up and eat your garbage."

Ratatouille subtly communicates the idea that there's really good stuff out there, but you have to look for it.

Brad Bird gives his characters space and time to develop their thoughts in Tarantino-like monologues, as when Colette argues that a woman's place is in a five star kitchen ("High cuisine is an antiquated hierarchy built upon rules by stupid old men, rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world") or critic Anton Ego holds for on his craft ("We risk very little yet enjoy a power to overthrow those who offer up their work and themselves to our judgement. But the little truth critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it as such").

Remy himself belongs in the pantheon of great animated characters, right up beside the original Mickey Mouse who started it all. Try Ratatouille and you'll never be afraid of rats again.