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It's been a long, long time since we've seen a blockbuster as singular as WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT . . . The imagined legacy of cartoon superstar Roger Rabbit ransacks the violent antics of Warner Bros, the z-axis freedom of the Fleischer Studios, the wanton, buxom carnality of Tex Avery's RED HOT RIDING HOOD.

Much in the way that Chinatown offered a somewhat problematic simplification of the juicily sordid tale of the Owens Valley aqueduct, Who Framed Roger Rabbit is less interested in the objective standard of the truth than in the drama a historical basis can provide.

Though developed by profit-hungry Disney execs as a flashy advertisement for the dying art of theatrical animation, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? remains the most cynical studio-stamped film about showbiz from the 80s. A letter to Los Angeles that reads like a limerick scrawled with a poison pen, the movie depicts Hollywood's postwar growing pains with more exactitude than the central cartoon-meets-human conceit would suggest.

There's a hint of perversity in all of this — a sense of transgression in crossing studio boundaries and fusing disparate styles and sensibilities — that is only one of the means by which Roger Rabbitmoves beyond the borders of simple light entertainment.