"Duma" is a movie about many things -- about loyalty, about the majesty and danger of nature, about self-sufficiency in the face of the uncertainty and, sometimes, the hardship of childhood. It's also about parenthood, and the things we pass on to our children even when we're not overtly "teaching" them (or maybe especially when we're not teaching them). This is also an adventure tale with lots of danger and suspense, made in a way that doesn't abuse children's emotions or underestimate their intelligence. (Needless to say, adults are likely to enjoy it just as much, if not more.) And it's put together so fluidly that it approaches perfection.

But before we start rejoicing that a movie like "Duma" can still get made, let's cut to the bad news: Its studio, Warner Bros., doesn't know what to do with it. And unless the company changes its mind, you're not likely to see "Duma" on the big screen, unless you happen to live near Chicago, where it opens this Friday for one week -- possibly longer if it does well.

"Duma" had a test run last spring in three markets, San Antonio, Phoenix and Sacramento, Calif. (It has also had a limited release in the U.K.) The picture had two showings in New York, at the Tribeca Film Festival last April, where I was lucky enough to see it. The cost of marketing a picture like "Duma" nationwide is about $25 million, and the studio, unsure of the movie's earning potential, isn't sure it wants to make that commitment. ("Duma" cost around $12 million to make.) But after Roger Ebert spoke favorably about the picture, Warner did agree to give it a Chicago release. How "Duma" does in that market will help determine its future.

And after seeing the success that Warner Independent Pictures has had with the documentary "March of the Penguins," which has been in the top 10 for several weeks and whose release has been gradually widened to build audience awareness, it's hard to understand why Warner Bros. can't do the same thing with "Duma" -- especially since the audiences for the two movies are likely the same. After I saw "Duma" at Tribeca last spring, a couple sitting next to me, who had come with their little boy, said they couldn't wait to see it again when it opened. When I told them that Warner Bros. was not planning to open it, their faces fell. This, they explained, was the type of movie they looked for to see with their kid. What, they asked me, was the studio thinking?

In an interview with Time Out Chicago this week, Ballard says that "Duma" may mark the end of directing for him; he no longer has the heart to do it. Ballard hasn't made a lot of movies, and although his pictures are often revered by critics and beloved by the moviegoers who get to see them, they're not the kind of blockbuster moneymakers that the studios are looking for, perhaps now more than ever. The harsh reality is that studios are -- often to the detriment of audiences -- in the business to make money.

But in the case of "Duma," Warner Bros. is missing gold by seeing only green. The movie features an astonishing shot of Duma, crouched with Xan and Ripkuna before the nighttime fire they've built to warm themselves. His posture is a comically awkward composition of paws and limbs -- somehow, cheetahs look most "right" when they're running, not sitting. But then the camera gives us a close-up of his face, alert but pensive, his eyes the size and shape of giant ancient coins. Duma, luminous and wide-eyed in the firelight, may not be the color of money. But he sure looks like gold to me.

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