Disney has produced some gems in recent years by focusing on big releases with cross-generational appeal — like Wall E, Up, and Toy Story 3. But missing from the recent repertoire are the kinds of heartfelt fairy tales that minted the Disney brand, beginning with Snow White, and fueled the resurgence that began with the Hans Christian Anderson adaptation, The Little Mermaid. And while the new fare have often ranked among the best recent releases, it is hard not to miss some of the magic that used to be the meat and potatoes of the studio’s work.

Tangled has wholeheartedly revived that tradition. Taking the tale of Rapunzel from the pages of the Grimms’ Fairy Tales, directors Nathan Greno and Bryan Howard and writer Dan Fogelman have updated the classic story’s sensibilities and added a few funny animal sidekicks to give it that characteristic Disney touch. But, at its heart, Tangled remains a fable of self-sacrificial love, one that unfolds in a world that mixes beauty and evil.

Mandy Moore’s Rapunzel sounds like a valley girl, but despite trailers that make her seem like a precocious contemporary teenager, Rapunzel manages to exude a rather appealing spunky innocence. She is trapped in a tower, of course — the prisoner of an evil old woman who uses the magical powers of Rapunzel’s hair to stay young. Mother Gothel, as the old woman is called, is the only mother Rapunzel has ever known. Gothel stole her from her crib as an infant. Danna Murphy nails the voice of the mother. Her character quavers between motherly comfort and maniacal manipulation, casting her as a kind of Freudian super-villain via Hitchcock’s Psycho. Rapunzel wants to leave her tower in order to see the mysterious lights that appear each year on her birthday, but mother refuses. Rapunzel doesn’t know that the lights are part of an annual memorial put on by her father and mother, the king and queen, who hold out hope that they will someday find their daughter.

That resolution is set in motion with the arrival of Flynn Ryder (Zachary Levi), a swashbuckling, dashing young thief who has stolen the princess’s crown from the castle. After a skirmish with palace soldiers, Ryder loses his way in the forest and stumbles upon Rapunzel’s tower. What follows is a pretty standard hard-to-get love affair, enhanced by a humorous song and dance scene in a grungy pub full of good-hearted rogues, and a surprisingly exciting chase scene that culminates in a massive flood. Soon Ryder discovers what a magical girl he has on his hands.

It is a fine line that separates Tangled from more generic, straight-to-video attempts at translating fairy tale charm. What sets Tangled apart includes its honest-to-goodness sense of humor, the appeal of the characters — the ambivalence of Ryder, Rapunzel’s right-on girlishness, mother’s subtle sadism — and its ability to make its characters speak to universal patterns of behavior in clever, enjoyable ways.

But scenes like the release of the lights, when Rapunzel and Ryder witness the kingdom’s annual ritual firsthand, reveal the full-flowering of Tangled’s sensibilities. It is a moment of sheer wonder, reminiscent of Hayao Miyazaki’s films, one that makes us realize that it takes a mature artistic touch to truly convey such moving, childlike beauty.