January 14, 2005 | Call it Babe-licious, and you won't be far off the mark. Much like the beloved fable about the precocious pig who becomes a master shepherd, Racing Stripes is a feel-good, family-friendly movie that offers an impressive mix of human actors and CGI-tweaked animals. To be sure, the humor is much broader, and occasionally cruder, in this comedy about a plucky zebra who beats the odds while competing against thoroughbreds. Overall, though,Woodzie (M. Emmet Walsh), a grizzled racetrack tout, thinks Stripes has the right stuff for racing, and encourages Nolan to train the zebra for the upcoming Kentucky Open. But Nolan demurs: He walked away from racing after the death of his wife in a riding accident years ago, and he's still reluctant to resume his former trade. Not surprisingly, he's even less willing to allow Channing to train as a jockey. In the end, though, Channing gets a chance to ride Stripes in the Kentucky Open - with a little help from Tucker, an unsung hero when it comes to tutoring thoroughbreds.

Cleverly balancing heart-tugging sentiment with rib-tickling silliness, Racing Stripes does a bang-up job of enabling moviegoers to suspend disbelief as various quadrupeds and winged insects converse amongst themselves. (Only the horseflies are completely computer-generated; other creatures are real beasts enhanced with animated lip-movements.) Among the vocal talents, Hoffman makes the most engaging impression as the perpetually grumpy and under-appreciated Tucker. But Joe Pantoliano gets some of the biggest laughs as Goose, a bellicose pelican from New Jersey who claims to be hiding from vengeful Mafiosi. (Members of the Soprano clan, maybe?) Parents in the audience likely will guffaw even louder than their children whenever the tough-talking bird snarls dialogue lifted from classic mobster movies. ("Just when I thought I was out," Goose complains at one point, "they pull me back in!")

With so many scene-stealing co-stars competing for attention, the human players deserve credit simply for not being entirely upstaged. Greenwood and Panettiere come across with appealing sincerity, while Walsh is appropriately rumpled and crusty. Malick slyly stops short of going completely over the top, and even manages to spike her cartoonish villainy with a hint of saucy hauteur that recalls the late, great Rosalind Russell. Nice work.