THIS CLASSIC CHILDREN'S TALE features what C.S. Lewis called "dressed animals," a marvelous prospect indeed when rendered in prose but posing certain inevitable obstacles for any would-be translation of the effect into live-action film -- which, of course, requires human beings beneath the clothes and, presumably, behind masks. In this adaptation, however, we are reminded that since what we love most about "dressed animal" tales is the humanity of the characters, it is only sensible to make sure we don't disguise too much the humanness of the actors.

Without dispensing with the intangibles of toadishness or mole- ishness then, screenwriter and director Terry Jones emphasizes the human over the animal: his rabbits, for example, instead of actors shoehorned into bulky rabbit costumes which end producing a hybrid creature neither rabbit nor human, are merely humans, nicely-dressed in Edwardian style, in simple rabbit hats, which tie neatly under the chins, and thus don't get in the way of biking or boating or smootching (which is what rabbits do best).

The principle costume connection of the lead character, Toad, played by Jones, to that creature, is a bit of green face paint (and a computer-enhanced toady tongue -- more about that later.) Mole (Steve Coogan) wears a miner's hat, Ratty (played by Jones' fellow Monty Python alumni Eric Idle) has a tail that pokes out from under his striped sports jacket. And the weasels -- who cause most of the trouble in The Wild Wood -- also wear tails, but they go all-but-unnoticed against their flashy matching suits, sunglasses, and weaselly haircuts. Led by Head Weasel (Antony Sher), this bunch takes on an even higher profile in this version of Willows, since their plans to steal Toad's land and build a weasel empire sets the story into action at the start.

The Head Weasel is responsible for some very Pythonesque moments, especially when he tries to pass as a rabbit in the jury box when Toad is put on trial for running off with someone's motor car. Toad's defense attorney is played by John Cleese, who somehow can't help slipping over to the role of prosecutor. "The word GUILTY is indelibly written on his forehead!" he glowers with an accusing finger pointed to his client, then he explains himself, saying he's "doing the best that can be done under the circumstances." Along with Cleese, fellow Python Michael Palin does a turn as "The Sun," reminiscent of that "blasted weather" animation of Terry Gilliam, the only American of the Pythons and the only one (besides the deceased Graham Chapman) absent here. And while not all the main actors are Pythons, Jones manages to turn his supporting cast into pretty good imitations, especially a couple of the lesser Weasels and Mole, played by Steve Coogan, a well-known comic tv actor in England. The addition of straight-man Badger (Nicol Williamson), in this adaptation as in the original novel, lends some welcome sensibleness and balance.

Yet while this ensemble hits some enjoyably wacky notes which not even fellow director Gilliam has managed to reach in his own films, through it all, Jones' Willows retains a coherence of story and tone, along with moments of genuine pathos (as when Ratty expresses his deep love for simply "messing about in boats") and a sense of abiding friendship. One of "The Four Loves" which C.S. Lewis discusses in his book of that title is "affection," the name he gives to that "warm comfortableness," and "satisfaction in being together." Whenever depicted well in fiction, affection makes for best-loved stories. And one of these, Lewis notes, is The Wind and the Willows, where "the quaternion of Mole, Rat, Badger, and Toad suggests the amazing heterogeneity possible between those who are bound by Affection." The best part about that "quaternion" is simply being with them, "messing about", plot functioning merely as a net to catch spirit.

In a talk he gave following a recent screening of his film at the 1998 Chicago International Children's Festival, Terry Jones confessed that up until he considered filming this story, he'd never actually read the book. He says when he finally did, "I thought, 'Well, that's a bit of a challenge, isn't it?' Nothing very much happens." Jones says he came to agree with Winnie-the-Pooh creator A.A. Milne, who himself adapted Kenneth Grahame's original 1908 novel into the play, "Toad of Toad Hall". "What he did was tell people that if they wanted the bucolic scenes and detailed descriptions, they're all still in the book. But on the stage you need adventures and that's what I did, too."

But while the Jones' screenplay majors on action, squeezing and shuffling episodes of the book, his film remains faithful to that all-important spirit of the original. The frenzied motor car obsession of Toad, the stern wisdom of Badger, the sneaky scheming of the weasels, the friendship between characters which makes the book so winsome all comes through. And even amid the adventures, he gets in delightful little touches -- shots of rabbits smootching in the bushes, Otter catching a fish in his mouth, musings of The Sun and Mole's talking clock. There are a couple songs (with lyrics by Jones) which, while not exactly in the Merry Poppins category, aren't bad, just a tad underproduced.

Parents will be glad to hear that the happy exception to the usual Python approach is the complete absence of "naughty bits," and while there is a bit of nonsense when Toad is wearing women's clothes (talk about dress-ed animals), there's really nothing in this film unsuitable for children. It is true that some of the jokes may fly over their head (at the screening, my nine-year kept elbowing me and asking "What's so funny?" -- though not because the humor was "adult", but rather because the Pythonesque tone and loony atmosphere tends to tap a dimension of absurdity that one really doesn't notice until childhood has passed.)

Not that kids won't like film. Jones was introduced following the Chicago screening to a standing ovation and a barrage of questions from a theater full of kids. "How did you get your tongue to shoot out so far?" asked one. "I nailed my tongue to a stake and stretched it until it was as long as a Toad's," said Jones. Then he admitted he was fooling and explained the process of animating Toad's tongue, so he could catch flies and, in one scene, use his tongue to make an escape. The director also shared about how "Having green paint on your face is 'orrible."

Jones began his talk with a comment on the closing credits of his film, which finished just as appeared. "There's a line at the end that says this is a 'Columbia Pictures Release,'" he jeered. "That should actually say a 'Columbia Pictures Non-Release.'" Jones says the studio which owns distribution rights has shown an extreme and inexplicable reluctance to distributing his film -- which was first released in England a couple years ago. One might speculate on reasons for Columbia's reluctance: perhaps they include Jones' less-than-stunning track record for his post- Python film directing (including the disappointing Jabberwocky and Yellowbeard). Or it could be the slightly unusual tone of Jones' Wind in the Willows, due to extensive location work and naturalistic lighting on a sort of film which is traditionally done on a studio soundstage with cartoonish high-key lighting.

Yet in a world of dreck passing as children's entertainment, Terry Jones' The Wind in the Willows is a wonderful adaptation of a wonderful story -- one grown-ups can enjoy, too. Which is more than can be said about every other cinematic or cartoon version of this story thus far produced -- including the one from Disney, which Jones says owns the American video rights For those Americans who'd like to see this film in theatrical or video release, the director suggests they write Columbia or Disney and make their wishes known. Until such wishes are granted, those companies are apparently playing John Cleese as Toad's absurd "defender," which seems to be somewhat less than "the best they can do under the circumstances."