In the frequently picked-over corpse of author Charles Perrault’s classic story “Cinderella,” centered on a servant girl who rises from obscurity after falling in love with a prince, lie such themes as perseverance, hope and the value of being a dreamer. These are the cornerstone principles of the Disney corporation, founded by a fellow dreamer who, similar to the plucky protagonist in the fairy tale, made a wish and saw it come true. Though the studio has plundered these riches before with the likes of the popular 1997 TV movie musical and 2015’s lavish live-action feature, Disney+ original “Sneakerella” amounts to a modernized, more tween-oriented telling. Director Elizabeth Allen Rosenbaum’s re-sole of the story, which sees a talented teen fantasizing about designing sneakers for sports royalty, delivers a poignant take on the 1950s animated film it partially cannibalizes.

This fantastical tale, narrated sparingly by fairy godfather Gustavo (Juan Chioran), begins in the diverse borough of Queens. Kind-hearted, creative teen El (Chosen Jacobs) loves sneakers almost as much as he loves his community. The perfect pair of kicks haunts his dreams and guides his life. He believes that the right shoes can make him fly, a concept illustrated in a dreamy amalgam of colorful mixed media and live-action, vividly drawn through sketch and song.

Best friend Sami (Devyn Nekoda) encourages El’s artistic passion, and gets him to ditch his oppressive job as a stock boy for his oblivious stepfather Trey (Bryan Terrell Clark) and obnoxious stepbrothers Stacy (Hayward Leach) and Zelly (Kolton Stewart) in favor of basketball superstar Darius King’s (John Salley) coveted sneaker re-release. However, El’s world changes in a New York minute.

He may have come up empty-handed for the new shoes, but he manages to win the heart of Kira (Lexi Underwood), a compassionate fellow sneakerhead. They bond, dancing and dueting, as he exposes her to the vibrant melting pot he calls home. Yet they part without exchanging contacts. Little does he know the girl of his dreams is King’s daughter.

Kira has been busy establishing her own identity, taking an active role in her father’s commercial ventures, seeking out the next big design for his sneaker line. At a charity networking gala, for which El sports an eye-catching ensemble and one-of-a-kind kicks, the lovelorn souls reunite and draw the attention of their fellow partygoers. But as the hour grows late, details concerning El’s true identity are called into question, leaving him completely flustered and his confidence shaken.

Most of this narrative is ingeniously refashioned by screenwriters David Light, Joseph Raso, Tamara Chestna, Mindy Stern and George Gore II (story credit goes to Stern, Gore, Light and Raso), who meld all-too-familiar plot points with clever contemporary twists and homages. However, late in the second act, it gets tripped up in its own laces, much like its protagonist falling down an escalator as he flees the ball. The movie’s shine is dulled by maddening contrivances (like the stepbrothers’ repetitive threats to El, and the campaign to find him) and baffling time-wasting segments that feel shoe-horned into the plot. In addition, though Nekoda elevates her role as El’s peppy sidekick, the character exists solely to service the male arc and is achingly underdeveloped.

That said, the picture features gobs of heart behind the artistry, from Jacobs and Underwood’s sweet, strong performances and striking chemistry (both creating indelible characters we grow to cherish) to the visual dexterity demonstrated by Rosenbaum and her crafts team. Musical numbers, ranging from toe-tapping bops to melancholy ballads, feel immersive, energetic and vibrantly shaded. Ebony Williams, Emilio Dosal, Amanda-May Wilson and Alisha Lucchese’s inspired choreography, Ishai Setton’s crisp editing, Elisa Sauvé’s scintillating production design and Rachel Grubbs’s astute costume design work in concert, creating beauty and buoyancy. Cinematographer Matt Sakatani Roe’s effused light augments emotional undertones without becoming stylistically overbearing.

While this appears to be a DCOM (Disney Channel Original Movie) in disguise and surpasses the stereotypical, bland aesthetics of a direct-to-streaming Disney+ feature, it’s taken down a few pegs by some forced clichés that sour its otherwise fresh, upbeat attitude. Heartening sentiments about gaining confidence, the passionate pull of artistic expression and the ingenious meta context of the narrative’s underpinnings help buff away the scuff marks, making for a surprisingly satisfying reboot of a tired but timeless classic.