Brad Bird has already blessed us with The Iron Giant and The Incredibles. Now add to that Ratatouille, a story of a rat who loves good food and dreams of being a chef. To be sure, the story stretches credibility a bit, but it does so in such a delightful way—and to such good purpose—that any such sin is easily forgiven.

Like most works from Pixar, Ratatouille is a visual feast. We see the beauty and the vitality of Paris. We see the hectic life in the kitchen from a rat’s perspective as he tries to escape. There are wonderful chase scenes that keep viewers on the edge of their seats. Even without going deeper than the surface, Ratatouille is worth the time.

But Bird always has more than is apparent on the surface. If we look just a bit below, we can find some wonderful aphorisms to teach us a bit about life. “You must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from.” “If you look at what you left behind you’ll never be able to focus on what lies ahead.” These, and other sayings throughout the film, are good ideals to live by. But this, too, is not the full import of the film.

We start getting closer to the core film when we consider its love for creativity. One of the things Remy (the central murine character) admires about humans is that “they discover; they create.” That is what he longs to do with food—to take different tastes and combine them to create something that is new and exciting.

In the kitchen where Remy finds himself, creativity has been replaced by marketability. Rather than making the kind of dish that made the restaurant and its (now dead) chef famous, it relies on meticulously recreating his old recipes and using his name and image to market frozen food. Remy (by way of a hapless young man that Remy works like a marionette) begins to bring newness back into the kitchen. This is threatening to the new chef (as is the hapless young man). But each time they create something new, the kitchen begins to find new life.

But the real crux is its attention to passion—that force that drives us to do what we do for good or ill. Remy’s passion is food. Not only eating it, but fully experiencing it and helping others to discover new beauty. He doesn’t want to steal things like other rats; he wants “to add something to the world.” Such is the passion of mission—to share, to give life and joy.

But there are also those whose passions do not drive them to do good things. Chef Skinner’s passion is for money. He is constantly looking for new ways to exploit the memory of Chef Gusteau. Creativity is foreign to him. He not only doesn’t act creatively himself, he despises others doing so.

And then there is food critic Anton Ego. His passion for food has shifted to a passion for being witty and insulting. He lives to write bad restaurant reviews so that he can show off his own brilliance. He is creative, but in a destructive manner. Even when he announces his intent to come to the restaurant, it is a matter of intimidation and threat. Everyone knows he plans to ruin everything.

Ah, but the film also shows how passions can lead to redemption. It is through the passions of others that we find the ways that lead away from self and pride to new life and fresh joy. And it is through our passions that others may find their ways out of whatever dark passions rule them to find new light in their own lives.

Like Bird’s earlier works, which are far deeper than one might think cartoons can be, Ratatouille is another blessing for those who are open to his passionate storytelling.