Hollywood packaging might not be the tinsel town conversation starter that it once was, but maybe The Wild Robot can bring it back. With the precious rights to Peter Brown’s beloved series of preteen-skewing science fiction novels in hand, Dreamworks Studios opted against cutting corners, and handed Chris Sanders the car keys. With a resume that includes work on Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King, as well as director credits for both Lilo & Stitch and How to Train Your Dragon, it’s safe to call Sanders an industry luminary, powerful enough to entice other members of the filmmaking elite to take notice. How else do you explain a voice cast that features Lupita Nyong’o, Pedro Pascal, Catherine O’Hara, and Mark Hamill, not to mention a score from up-and-coming composer Kris Bowers? It all must have made for one hell of a press release, the type that used to accompany a John Grisham adaptation or a new Spielberg flick, but seemed irrelevant in animated fare. This level of talent can almost muscle its way past mediocrity, with only the grace notes requiring further attention.

ROZZUM 7134 (Nyong’o) eventually finds that dignity, but there are a few scrapes along the way. Crash landing on a woodland island without a human in sight, the personal assistance android immediately sets off on a quest for purpose, offering her services to nearby wildlife who are either terrified by and hostile toward her presence. After a slew of inhospitable run-ins, our metallic hero unwittingly finds herself caring for a newly-hatched gosling whom she takes to calling Brightbill (Kit Conner), learning the aviary ways as a means of showing the youngster the ropes. Their makeshift family, which comes to involve a roguish fox named Fink (Pascal), turns plenty of neighborly heads, but the initial failure to assimilate is, as always, mere grounds for heartwarming reconciliation.

That The Wild Robot’s narrative arc acquiesces to such a familiar bend shouldn’t come as a surprise, but you’d be forgiven for expecting more from such a star-studded affair. Instead of staking out anything resembling new territory, Sanders’ film relies on tropes of found family and environmental distress, dutifully attending to well-established marks. It also adheres to the breakneck pacing that’s become industry standard in the all-ages space, the tumult of the movie’s opening 20 minutes leaving the audience practically gasping for air. The oxygen they find won’t exactly be fresh, but at least it’s been recycled with care.

Like a vetted chef cooking with tried-and-true ingredients, the crafts team here doesn’t need novelty to whip up something delicious. The kaleidoscopic, invitingly fuzzy visuals represent yet another instance of studio animation drifting in the wake of the Spider-Verse saga, but that doesn’t make them any less comely, or diminish the endearingly angular character designs of our many furry and feathered friends. Bowers’ resplendent, beatific score applies a grandeur that other flicks of a similar ilk could only dream of, and when Sanders’ slows things down just a smidge, as witnessed during Brightbill’s first flight or the inevitable montage of burgeoning interspecies comradery, the whole thing starts to levitate.

These hair-raising moments only play if you’re invested in the proceedings, and one of the benefits of The Wild Robot’s meat-and-potatoes approach to storytelling is that engagement is all but guaranteed. The relationship between Roz and her accidental progeny is irresistable, playing into parental hope and fears in an unfettered manner that syphons power from its inherent relatability. Their bond gives the movie its sturdy, if basic, emotional core, and the gentle thawing of Fink’s frost-bitten, antisocial exterior is nearly as effective. Nevermind that Pacal’s accent work eliminates the benefit of casting an actor famed for his alluring elocution, or that the critters’ climactic kumbaya flies directly in the face of the food-chain ecosystem that the flick’s early goings pain-stakingly lay out. Those are questions for another day.

Today is all about square pegs going into square holes, and any logistical elisions can be casually charged to the game. The Wild Robot is at peace playing within established parameters, ones that lower the ceiling while considerably raising the floor. Packaging like this would seem to imply loftier ambitions; in practice, it’s the most reliable form of risk mitigation we’ve yet devised. After all, movies like The Firm and Amistad aren’t fondly remembered for their towering achievements so much as their irrefutable position above the chafe, and Sanders’ offering is no different. Try not to be disappointed that a movie with centerpiece song entitled Kiss the Sky is so doggedly ground bound; there’s plenty to enjoy at lower elevations.