It just so happens that one of the chief obsessions of the '90s, the redefinition of the family, finds a perfect match in the Tarzan story, and Disney's new animated version has this theme at its heart. Hollywood has recently been preoccupied with distant fathers, broken homes, and the child's search for identity, and one might expect this oft-repeated story to be on its last legs. But in the old tale of Tarzan, writer Tab Murphy has found a natural habitat. In his hands, Tarzan's choice between nature and nurture, between his genetic heritage and his adopted home, is powerfully reimagined.

The fact that this Tarzan is animated enhances the story's impact. Animation can solve some of the problems inherent in the tale of a human being raised by apes: The spectacle of an actor swinging from vine to vine, walking on his knuckles, and sniffing unfamiliar objects is distracting. We can't help but know, somewhere behind our suspension of disbelief, that this person is pretending. But a drawn character lies between the familiar and the alien, just like Tarzan himself. When interacting with gorillas, he can be perfectly animal; when interacting with human beings, he imitates them with unstudied ease, and we are free to focus on something other than virtuoso acting.

Yet Tarzan isn't an unqualified success, since the Disney animated franchise still caters to kids in a predictable fashion. A stunning, wordless sequence accompanied by Phil Collins' theme "Two Worlds" establishes the backstory: A British couple survives a shipwreck only to be killed by a marauding leopard. Their infant son is taken in by Kala (voiced by Glenn Close), a gorilla mother who recently lost her own baby, and tolerated by Kerchak (Lance Henriksen), the silverback. As Tarzan matures, however, comic elements, like Rosie O'Donnell as Terk the gorilla and Wayne Knight as Tantor the elephant, take over the film for long intervals. The film reaches its nadir when they invade the camp of some visiting explorers and lead an impromptu jam session with makeshift noisemakers.

Just as some animal characters succumb to the usual Disney formula, some of the human characters fit well-defined kiddie-movie stereotypes. The exploration party consists of Professor Potter (Nigel Hawthorne), a dotty old softhead; Clayton (Brian Blessed), a preening great white hunter; and Jane (Minnie Driver), Potter's daughter. Only Jane emerges as an original character, breaking the mold of Disney female love interests by the sheer force of Driver's personality.

The film's ending, which revolves around Clayton's predictable greed and Tarzan's ultimate choice, is its biggest cop-out. Rather than face squarely the question of Tarzan's place in the larger human family, Murphy's script scrambles off the boat and back into the safety of the jungle--unspoiled nature, the only unambiguous good we seem to be able to agree on these days. Murphy places Tarzan's moment of decision at Kerchak's side, going for the father-reconciliation vibe. But in reality, the moment of greatest pathos is when Tarzan first realizes he has the option of choosing a new family in Jane, rather than being stuck with the one his childhood defined for him. In the end, the filmmakers take Tarzan's choice away from him, believing that choosing civilization over wilderness is unimaginable.

Yet despite these major flaws, Tarzan leaves the viewer with a sense of robust strength and a profound engagement with important ideas. It sounds unbearably pop-psych to say that Tarzan's story is that of the blended family--but whatever terminology we use, the fact that our concept of the family has been disturbed and changed in recent years is unavoidable. The character of Tarzan is a perfect vehicle for exposing our ambivalence about these developments. Many of the children who'll see this movie, not to mention their parents, are caught between two worlds and are searching for one family (in the words of Collins' terrific song). Watching the ape-man wrestle with his identity, they will respond and they will learn. The truth in the tale isn't limited to our time--but what a perfect time it is for that truth.