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Verdict: Maybe we didn't need another version, but this one is handsome and engaging.

Details: Starring Jodie Foster and Chow Yun-Fat. Rated PG-13 for some intense violent sequences. 2 hours, 20 minutes.

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Review: Though you might expect a hidden orchestra to launch into "Shall We Dance," the latest telling of "Anna and the King" is a lavish costume drama, without songs, that holds its own against the beloved 1956 musical "The King and I."

A mixture of old-fashioned moviemaking with contemporary political correctness, it arrives at exactly the right time of year: It's ideal for families looking for a multiplex alternative to a fifth viewing of "Toy Story 2" or those movies with talking mice and lovable androids.

It also fills the bill for anyone looking for holiday spectacle. The movie includes exotic locales, opulent interiors, silk evening gowns, elephants and, for more restless viewers, bloodshed and explosions.

This fourth adaptation (including last year's animated feature) of the diaries of British governess Anna Leonowens introduces the young widow and son Louis (Tom Felton) as they arrive in Siam, filled with both enthusiasm and muted panic. She has been hired by King Mongkut (Chow Yun-Fat) to tutor his children in the Western manner. "The ways of England are the ways of the world," she says approvingly. "It's a wise man who knows that."

A wise man, maybe, but a stubborn one. The king doesn't bother to grant Anna an audience for three weeks, and he fails to come through on his promise of a house outside the palace walls. On top of this, Anna discovers that she has a bigger job ahead than tutoring the spoiled crown prince (Keith Chin): He has almost 60 siblings from the king's stable of 23 wives and 42 concubines.

Fans of the musical or the 1946 dramatic version with Irene Dunne and Rex Harrison will find comfort in familiar subplots and details. The king's advisers refer to Anna as "sir," because no Siamese woman would ever be as direct with the king as she is. Even worse, she refuses to prostrate herself when the ruler enters a room. One important subplot involves the new concubine Tuptim (Bai Ling) and her forbidden love for her childhood sweetheart.

For the record, Chow does not utter the musical's famous "et cetera, et cetera." Anna gives the prince a copy of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," but a ballet performed by the court doesn't follow. And the king isn't bald.

The movie introduces an edgy political tone with a series of attacks on villages by Burmese death squads. Heightening the East-meets-West tension between Anna and her employer is the rumor that these guerrillas might secretly be backed by the British.

The heart of the movie, though, is the thawing relationship between the strong-willed teacher and the equally bullheaded king. She tries to improve his conscience; he tries to loosen her up. "You still refuse to live," he berates her, because she is still mourning her dead husband. At moments like this, you can feel screenwriter Steve Meerson pushing these 19th-century characters a little too awkwardly into the 20th.

The movie also pushes too hard with the almost-romance between Anna and Mongkut. While both Foster and Chow are engaging actors, they never spark romantically in the ways you know the filmmakers intended; a near-kiss is more a miscalculation than a swoon-making moment. You get a better dose of repressed longing between proper Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner in the musical.

The movie's biggest misstep is an attempt to turn Anna into an action figure near the end. She's responsible for brainstorming a plan that repels an army of rebels, just when they're about to capture the king. It's as though the movie were temporarily hijacked by Renny Harlin ("Cliffhanger").

For the most part, director Andy Tennant ("Ever After") delivers his epic at an unhurried but engaging pace, letting us take in the costumes and the scenery. The movie was shot in Malaysia.

As usual, Foster delivers an accomplished performance, though at times she is so clenched and proper that you don't blame the king for wanting her to chill out. Chow manages to be both warm and commanding. But the most powerful performance comes from Bai as the rebellious concubine. Her tearful testimony in a courtroom generates an emotional power that the rest of the film never approaches.

— Steve Murray, Cox News Service

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