These days, it's getting pretty old hat to praise a Pixar movie. After all, their track record has been nearly flawless, and at this point people just sort of expect that anything they do is going to be a masterpiece. It's not a stretch to say that Pixar now occupies the same warm place in peoples' hearts that Disney once took for granted (and long ago frittered away).

While each new Pixar film raises the bar in terms of what can be done with computer animation, the real secret of their success is their uncanny ability to meld their jaw-dropping visuals with clever, sweet-natured storytelling. Where Disney typically tries to browbeat the audience into submission through manic pacing, forced humor and shallow conflict, Pixar seems to intuitively understand the simple enjoyment of a good story, well told.

Though head honcho John Lasseter often gets much of the credit for Pixar's winning streak, in my opinion it's writer/director Brad ('The Iron Giant') Bird who is currently their brightest star. With just two films, 'The Incredibles' and now 'Ratatouille', he's all but single-handedly perfected the Pixar blend of wit, spectacle and enchantment, while simultaneously downplaying the corny puns and artificially snippy banter that have sometimes marred Lasseter's films.

'Ratatouille', a story about an epicurean French rat named Remy who dreams of one day becoming a five-star chef, is an expectedly gorgeous and crowd-pleasing affair, but thankfully the execution is anything but predictable. Though Bird (again serving as writer and director) dishes out the requisite humor, pathos and heart-warming life lessons, he does so while spinning the story in enjoyably unexpected directions - and as in 'The Incredibles', he isn't afraid to let things get dark when they need to.

If the concept of a rat mixing up your soufflé seems like a queasy prospect, 'Ratatouille' should quickly win over all but the most rodent-phobic. Remy and his kin are uniformly adorable (even when chugging garbage out of a compost bin), and they occupy a hidden ratty world so imaginatively realized that it conjures up memories of Don Bluth's 'Secret of NIMH.' Though the rodents are the stars of the show, the human characters are equally well-realized, particularly a lanky and lovably hapless garbage boy named Linguini, who finds himself partnered up with Remy through a wonderfully choreographed string of plot twists.

'Ratatouille' masterfully exploits the comic potential inherent in its premise, but it balances the humor with refreshingly sincere moments of drama. It's to the film's credit that it never falls back on cheap gags or trumped-up conflict, nor does it provide easy answers for any of its characters. Adding greatly to the appeal is the gorgeous animation, which gives a vivid luster to everything from faintly shimmering droplets of water in the background to lushly colorful closeups of copper skillets popping with flaming chili peppers. (You will be hungry by the time the credits roll.)

Visually the film is a banquet of rich color and sumptuous design - everything on display is dazzling, from Linguini's cramped Montmartre apartment, to the rats' subterranean sewer hideout, to an almost fairy-tale beautiful, light-gilded Parisian skyline. While the CG razzle-dazzle is undoubtedly a plus, what really makes 'Ratatouille' stick is Remy. Charmingly voiced by Patton Oswalt (who heads up a strong cast that includes Ian Holm and Peter O'Toole), Remy is the sort of wide-eyed dreamer who's impossible not to root for, even when he's sticking his paws in beurre blanc or taking an unexpected dip in a pot of soup au pistou.

Like the best cooking, 'Ratatouille' is exciting, delightful and deeply satisfying, the work of master artisans at the top of their game.