While sequels usually underperform their predecessors — this was a massive disappointment financially speaking — critically, it was lauded as superior to the original. Let’s get the numbers out of the way. Babe, which came out in 1995, cost around 25 million and came out of nowhere (with no product tie-ins) to make over 65 million in the theatres. The sequel cost around 90 million dollars, had tie-ins, and made about 18 million. (The head film honcho at Universal was fired the same week the film came out, partly due to its box office performance.) Those are the numbers, but what they fail to show is the amazing heart and wonder of this movie.

Before his death, critic Gene Siskel caught flack for naming Babe: Pig in the City the best film of 1998. When I read his review, I couldn’t understand why he thought so. Then I saw the film and had to agree on some level. While I don’t know if I would call it the best, it ranks up there near the top.

Babe (newly voiced by Elizabeth Daily, Rugrats) comes back from his herding competition adventure with Farmer Hoggett (James Cromwell, Babe, L.A. Confidential, Deep Impact), only to accidentally disable him. This leads the bank to threaten foreclosure unless Hoggett can come up with a payment. Unable to do so, it falls to Babe to save the farm. The farmer’s wife (Magda Szubanski) takes up the quest for money by entering Babe in a show, which takes place … in the city.

Director/co-writer George Miller, who produced and co-wrote Babe and directed Mad Max (!), meshes his dark sensibilities with a children’s fable. The locations and sets take on a life of their own and place us square in the middle of this grim fairy tale. It feels as if Terry Gilliam crashed into Disney by way of George Orwell. I won’t harp on the effects except to say that they, and the animals, are so amazing that you simply cannot believe what you are seeing. Once in a while though, this may interfere with your attention to the story.

Babe, ever curious, precipitates situations that lead to the Farmer’s Wife and him finding themselves hiding in a hotel that takes in animals. Babe quickly gets to meet the neighbors and, suffice it to say, gets into all kinds of trouble. That the humans are generally the enemy causes us to identify more with the animals and their travails.

This film invokes a warm, comforting feeling (especially when you hear the narrator’s soothing, story-telling voice). It helps you recapture glimpses of being young and listening to stories and visualizing wild, fantastic, faraway worlds. You don’t just watch the film; you are put in a mood by it. I can’t describe it more than that, just, just a mood. And it’s transporting.

Rabbits. That’s what the movie is about. Lots of rabbits. Exploring the social structure and order in a colony, this film allegorically mirrors events within society. The characters (voiced by such greats as John Hurt, Denholm Elliott, and Zero Mostel) become three-dimensional characters that we care about.

The main action of the film is the escape by some of the rabbits from their habitat and from the encroachment of man. Adding to the threat from without, the dictator-like rabbit, General Woundwort, is controlling the destiny of the warren with an iron fist. A fist that our heroes (Fiver, Hazel, and Bigwig — among others) do not want to be under anymore. In their escape, not only do they have to deal with the General’s loyal army, but also with such threatening aspects of nature as dogs, cats, difficult terrain, and humans.