So, yes, there is a very big “new” release coming out this week which everyone and their grandmummy will be sure to see. For the record, I did indeed see Captain America and it’s surprisingly well-done and far exceeded my remedial level expectations. But I digress.

While every mainstream filmgoer out there will be lining up to see Chris Evans in superhero guise or re-lining up for their second viewing of the final Harry Potter (just in case they weren’t satisfied with helping create the first double-digit billion dollar franchise in film history) a small, unassuming, and completely charming little feature from the Mouse House deserves to be lauded. Undermarketed and overlooked, Disney’s latest traditionally hand drawn animated feature Winnie the Pooh deserves far more love than it’s getting at the box-office.

It has none – absolutely none – of the CGI enhancement or high finish gloss that one traditionally associates with a summer blockbuster . . . like Captain America or Harry Potter. Adrenaline pumping action sequences? Nope, not a one. Sexuality? What’s that? Surely they have an uber famous actor providing some voice acting? Guess again.

What there is (in merciful abundance) is a well-told story with a now classic set of literary characters who remind us that movies are, in the end, really about the story: the construction of plot, the depth of character, the ingenuity of theme and meta-messaging and all those other aggravating literary terms you learned about in English class. It may seem odd that all of this is embodied in a movie that most will flippantly dismiss as kiddie fare, but believe me when I say that Winnie the Pooh is the season’s most unpretentious and yet irresistible cinematic offering.

If you were a fortunate child, you were exposed to the tales of Christopher Robin and his stuffed bear who lived in the Hundred Acre Wood. I will admit, having grown up in the 80s and 90s, that my first expsoure to Winnie the Pooh was not Milne’s classic stories or even Walt Disney’s much heralded quartet of shorts from the 1960s: rather, I first knew Winnie the Pooh on Saturday mornings from the Disney animated series The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. The show ran for several seasons and won multiple Emmys – and was even singled out on numerous occasions for “humanizing” television for younger audiences. If you’ve seen the show – especially in contrast to the typical Saturday morning fare like He-Man or Thundercats (two of my other favorites, I will admit) – you will understand why this recognition is both special and meaningful. The episode where Rabbit adopts a baby bird and refuses to let her fly south for the winter (because he’s raised her as a rabbit, you see) puts a lump in my throat to this day.

Of course, it makes sense to anyone familiar with Milne’s work that the stories are designed to leave you feeling more, well, human in your humanity: the longing to belong and yet simultaneously escape, the creation of silly, unfounded fears, the making of merry adventures and even carnal urges for honey and are all typical fodder for a Pooh story. It may strike some as ironic that Milne, who was a deeply analytical and serious writer, wrote the Pooh stories as a way to bide his time between heavier fare – of course, the same set of stories gifted him with literary acclaim and immortality, though it plagued the life of his real-life son Christopher Robin who suffered from the expectation that many child stars endure once they reach adulthood: the inevitable disappointment by fans and admirers that he did in fact grow up to be an adult and lost the charm and innocence mass media has bestowed upon his persona to billions across the globe. It might further shock you to learn that Christopher Robin grew up to be an avowedly militant atheist. But again: I digress.

If you’ve read Milne’s classic tales, you’ll know that Pooh and the other residents of the Hundred Acre Wood are prone to misunderstandings and to blowing things out of proportion, which is faithfully reproduced in the film. When Christopher Robin leaves a note for Pooh saying he will be “Back Soon”, Owl, ever the pontificator, immediately declares that the boy has been kidnapped by a monster named Backson . . . and thus the adventure to extricate their boy from the clutches of the dastardly Backson is born. Piglet, Rabbit, Kanga, Roo, tail-less Eeyore and exuberant Tigger are all there as well, each providing their part to make things as magically nostalgic as one could hope for. Kudos to executive producer John Lasseter for championing another Pooh film when most would have preferred to make another sequel to A Bug’s Life or The Incredibles.

Kids will love the movie, even if it isn’t Cars 2. Adults will love the movie precisely because it isn’t. Most grown-ups in the audience will be able to appreciate the story for what it is: a throwback to a guileless form of entertainment that doesn’t include pop-culture references or any attempt to second-guess its audience. Rather, it takes them, hand in hand, back into the twilight of childhood, where even the absurd experience of a group of stuffed animals is a glorified delight.

This tale of the bear of very little brain is, as intended, a movie of very big heart.