rated PG

The first thing you’ll notice in Wes Anderson’s (“Rushmore,” “The Royal Tenebaums”) latest romp through the woods of precocious morality and parental malfunction is the jarring, positively antiquated “on the twos” stop-motion animation. The second thing you’ll notice is that it really works.

Abandoning the industry’s prevailing compulsion for precision, realism and fluidity for a twitching, bristly primitivism, he’s also managed to effectively escape the pitfalls of the glassy, frictionless sterility that has become so pervasively symptomatic in modern animated projects by other directors (cough, Robert Zemeckis, cough). “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is sublimely, even proudly counterintuitive, but for a story that’s all about forest animals reconnecting with their wilder natures (although they occasionally sip tea, practice law and paint landscapes), it’s an impeccable fit. That this happens to be an adaptation of a tale from the infamously, perhaps dangerously antiauthoritarian children’s author Roald Dahl, who made “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” and “James and the Giant Peach” the subtly seditious manifestos they were, makes Anderson’s decision all the more relevant. Beyond this critical gear shift, all of Anderson’s other trademarks are on noticeable display. His strong sense of community and value of the peculiar are high on the thematic list. The way he often cross-sections his sets, chooses camera angles and close-ups, employs nimble cuts and introductory titles between scenes are all comfortably apparent.

One of the foremost strengths Anderson retains from his previous works is his faultless ability to cast exactly the right actors to perfectly deadpan his intelligent, sharp-witted dialogue. Who knew foot-tall dolls could be so convincingly self aware? Many of Andersen’s usual suspects—like Jason Schwartzman, Bill Murray and Owen Wilson—can be heard sneaking around behind the puppets. The characters, mostly rats and badgers and weasels, with a few human (and conspicuously British) antagonists, are voiced by some crackerjack performers and were recorded together in full “Creature Comfort” mode (again, against all professional rationality) in a Connecticut farmhouse with all the ambient ticks, room tone and background noises intact. It’s another great trick, bringing connection and depth to their interactions and a welcome homespun vitality to the show. Swinging infamous career bachelor George Clooney on board as the sly and slippery Mr. Fox is just another stroke of genius. Fox is a born poultry thief profoundly failing to reconcile a reasonable domesticated lifestyle with his instinctive need to get his teeth into somebody else’s chickens. Clooney, adeptly channeling his inner Danny Ocean, brings a fabulous gin-’n’-tonic suave to Mr. Fox. His cashmere inflections and razor comic timing charm right through all the rough edges of his puppety screen counterpart, providing a completely believable and downright debonair foundation for the animal to launch his series of half-baked capon raiding capers and escapes. Also, as his loving, if vexed (and occasionally ferocious) wife Mrs. Fox, Meryl Streep is delightfully, well, foxy. She delivers a distinctly Jessica Rabbit hotness on a porcelain-cool Angelica Houston plate.But for many, the real question is: Is it a kid’s movie? Well, naturally, it depends on the kid. At first blush, this flick may look an awful lot like a throwback to “Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” but that’s where the similarity comes to an abrupt halt. Imagine instead if those rollicking reprobates from “Robot Chicken” get their hooks into “Watership Down” and you might be sniffing up the right tree.

These beasts scratch and tussle and bite. They don’t just eat, they devour—it’s a simultaneously hilarious, shocking and barbarous act. Oh, and they drink, too. Meaning they get drunk. Also, they swear. A lot. Although the word “cuss” is modestly substituted throughout (say hello, PG rating!), it’s not a broad stretch to puzzle out exactly what Mr. Fox means when he exclaims “Are you cussin’ with me?” or “This is gonna be a clustercuss!” These minor eccentricities barely begin to approach the gravity of the story’s not-so-underlying lessons in the purity of theft, deceit, corruption, vanity and jovial scalawagism, in general. And yes, murder. After all that, there’s also the dreadful tale of Mr. Fox’s tail. The ghastly fate of that poor appendage is a genuine shock, and an unqualified Verhoeven-ish nightmare. Which, if you’ve ever seen the original “Robocop,” is really saying something.So, sure, bring the cubs. They’ll probably love it. The film just might impel them to follow their precious little natures directly to yoga class or into school athleticism. Just don’t be too surprised if, instead, in true Tenenbaum “take it out and cut it up” spirit, you find them swiping your keys, spitting on the floor and flicking cigarettes at your chest. Roald probably would’ve wanted it that way.