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Above all, rebellious Edmund (Skandar Keynes) benefits from the revisions. The boy's obstinacy now seems to spring from a reasonable source—he's distraught over his father's wartime absence. His attempts to discredit Lucy's discovery of Narnia are given new motivation and vitality, and his betrayal of his siblings stings, swells, and aches for most of the film.

Susan (Anna Popplewell), Peter and Lucy try to hold off some nasty wolves

Turkish Delight, of course, baits Edmund to his fall, served up by the magisterial tempter of this frozen wonderland, the White Witch. Tilda Swinton plays the Witch with admirable restraint and intelligence. In spite of her outrageous costumes and an annoying dwarf attendant who desperately needs a throat lozenge, she's an effective seductress—it's believable that a naïve troublemaker would accept her cold comfort. Like Palpatine delivering sugar-coated lies to Anakin Skywalker, the Witch fools him with what he can't get elsewhere: flattery and promises of power.

It's odd, however, the way that Edmund gets from place to place. In the novel, he makes a torturous journey to reach the Witch's castle. But here, Narnia's landmarks feel about as far apart as Disneyland's amusement park rides. The castle's just a couple of city blocks from the beaver dam, which is a quick stroll from the lamppost, which is just around the corner from the hills where Aslan's entourage awaits.

But there are deeper problems here. Insofar as the movie adheres to Lewis's text, it's a knockout. But as Adamson wedges in original action sequences, he willingly sacrifices far too much of Lewis's most essential dialogue. Peter Jackson had no choice but to severely abbreviate The Lord of the Rings in order to contain it in feature-length chapters, but Adamson's challenge was quite the opposite. Lewis's story is short, simple and concentrated—every episode, every line counts.

For no good reason, conventional adventure spectacle replaces the joys of long, memorable sequences like the melting of the witch's dominion, a woodland Christmas party, and the thawing of prisoners. Adamson's more excited about inventing a frantic fight with wolves on a frozen river, and 20 minutes of elaborate, Jackson-esque, CGI warfare, as if to ensure there's enough material for a video game tie-in. Lewis, preferring beauty to violence, only gave the war a page or two.

Tilda Swinton is marvelous as the White Witch

Those who don't know the book won't find anything amiss. Those who do will realize that Adamson's excisions do more than just quicken the pace—they change the nature of important characters.

The beavers, vividly voiced by Ray Winstone and Dawn French, are a cartoonish but likeable pair. But they're robbed of significant lines that build our apprehension of meeting Aslan and help us understand his kingship. The book's devotees will be dismayed to find that Mr. Beaver is denied his famous speech about Aslan's power and authority: "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." (Tumnus and Lucy echo this sentiment later, but it doesn't serve the same purpose.)

Meanwhile, our dear, benevolent Professor has been reduced almost to a bit role, with many of his key lines of dialogues seriously abbreviated or outright dropped. It staggers the imagination as to why he's been minimized to just a couple of grandfatherly interjections. An expanded "special edition" is in order.

As for the character we've all longed to see—Aslan—let's face it: He's not the Aslan who gave that novel its bold and beating heart. He's given a voice of nobility and gentleness by Hollywood's favorite warrior-mentor, Liam Neeson. Thanks to the animators, he's a beautiful sight, if not quite as convincing as the CGI characters in Jackson's Middle-Earth. But Adamson, working with Emmy-winning co-writers Ann Peacock, Christopher Markus, and Stephen McFeely, has severely altered Aslan's presence and power in the script.

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