Gary Baseman's artwork is comically, perversely surreal -- and I mean that as a compliment. See for yourself at his website. It's the kind of material one is tempted to call "twisted," in the loving way one would similarly refer to Tim Burton's off-beat artistry. When I see work like this, I get excited, because "twisted" is always more interesting during expeditions in psychological exploration. I want to see this stuff break out and go crazy, for it's in ventures like these that we are able to see past the borders of everyday mundanity.

In Teacher's Pet, that very mundaneness threatens to encroach and swallow whole the evidence of Baseman's unique quality -- disappointing, I know, but not fatal. The movie presents a compromise in which the two sides seem to continually battle for any small extra gain. On one hand, we have Baseman's visuals and concepts, the kind of stuff that can only be found in the depths of a delightfully deranged mind. On the other hand, we have the hallmarks of kids' shows, from the frenetic pacing and general loudness, maximized to hold a child's attention at all costs, to a storyline that's silly enough to reveal the characters' quirks while safe enough to teach something valuable.

One could assume this is what Baseman had in mind all along -- he created the animated TV show of the same name on which the movie is based. His art has found other outlets in magazines, museums, and even party games (his drawings adorn the multi-activity-based "Cranium"), so it wouldn't be unfair to assume that Teacher's Pet was conceived as a more high-profile commercial outlet for his work. The problem? Quirky, odd-looking, rule-bending children's animation projects are a dime-a-dozen these days. In the land of SpongeBob Squarepants (who's slated for his own movie late this year) and Rugrats, how would Teacher's Pet stand out?

Although the movie doesn't provide an answer, it offers viewers a glimpse at its potential. What works best involves  scenes in which the visuals and humor are allowed to stick their heads out of the cage of convention, such as when the cat rides on top of a fast-moving train and his skin starts coming off his skull; or when we're given a bird's-eye view of  various sections of Miami. The plot tweaks the "be careful what you wish for" morality tale with a story about a dog named Spot (voice of Nathan Lane) who so badly wants to be a boy that he regularly dresses up and accompanies his master to grade school, where he's become an academic whiz. In this movie, Spot gets his chance to become human when he seeks a mad scientist he saw on TV. The implications of what occurs are wickedly funny, from the unexpected results of his quest to a proposed solution for a later dilemma that would involve a marriage bordering on unholy -- but it's very funny to think such an idea was actually considered.

The movie does a bit of goofy self-riffing -- it's a Disney feature that parodies Pinocchio, among other classics, and it introduces almost every musical number with a self-aware acknowledgement -- but whatever cleverness it has is still at odds with elements that threaten to blend it with the crowd. Typical voicework counteracts the inventive look with its everyday-TV sound; the pacing is frenzied, turning many creative shots into subliminal flashes within montage sequences.

Baseman's ideas are fighting for their lives here -- compare this to Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas, where Burton's concepts are given room to breathe and occupy their unique space, drawing viewers into its dark, twisted, yet warm realm. Baseman has a vision, and it deserves such a dedicated project as well. Teacher's Pet is enjoyable for its bits of realized potential, but that very potential also makes us see how much more this movie could have been.

(Released by Walt Disney Pictures and rated "PG" for some mildly crude humor.)

Review also posted on www.windowtothemovies.com.