3.5 stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.12.16
All right; there’s such a thing
as too much pathos.
Disney films have a merciless
Dickensian history of parental mortality, usually as a means of first-act
dramatic impact. The trend goes all the way back to 1942’s Bambi, and has remained a scripting constant ever since, reaching its
horrific nadir with 1985’s Baby: Secret
of the Lost Legend. (I still wince over how that one started.)
In some ways, this new Pete’s Dragon is even more brutal.
On the whole, director David
Lowery has done a lovely job with this updated fairy tale, giving it a
contemporary, top-to-bottom re-write with the assistance of co-scripter Toby
Halbrooks. The fantasy elements are impressive, with the fuzzy green dragon —
Elliot — not only brought to persuasive life, but also given a charming, shaggy
dog personality: not an easy task, for a character that cannot speak.
Much of the film also takes place
from a child’s-eye view of the world, which is a nice touch.
The storyline has a gentle
environmental undertone that’s given additional heft by the presence of Robert
Redford, both as co-star and occasional narrator. His distinctive voice is immediately
familiar, with its warm and friendly cadence; at this point in his career, he
has become everybody’s favorite uncle, while also radiating the graceful
ecological integrity of icons such as John Ruskin, John Muir and Henry David
Thoreau.
He’s perfect here.
On the other hand, this film’s tone is far different than its larkish
1977 predecessor. Poster art for this new Pete’s
Dragon shows our young human hero — a sensitively nuanced Oakes Fegley —
resting peacefully on Elliot’s huge tail, smiling up at his furry green friend.
The implication is happy and cheerful, which is extremely misleading.
Because, before Pete can befriend
a massive dragon that has remained (mostly) undiscovered in the deep woods of
the Pacific Northwest, he must lose his parents. This takes place during a
prologue that introduces Pete as barely more than a toddler, driving through
the woods with his parents, and excited by the thought of a “family adventure.”
That anticipation is shattered
one road accident later. Although Lowery deserves credit for handling this
sequence with off-camera sensitivity, it’s no less heartbreaking ... and it
also sets the mood for what follows. And while the subsequent narrative is by
no means nonstop tragedy, it feels
that way, in great part because of composer Daniel Hart’s unrelentingly gloomy
orchestral score. Sad and maudlin themes undercut far too much of this film’s
action.
(Just in passing, Lowery and
Halbrooks also deserve to be spanked for the immediate peril that prompts the
nearby Elliot to rescue little Pete: Wolves don’t attack people! A bear would
have been a far better choice.)
Flash-forward six years, as Pete
has blossomed into a ragged 10-year-old wild child who delights in racing
through the woods, with Elliot galumphing alongside: a sequence that will look very familiar to those who recently
watched The Legend of Tarzan and,
more specifically, the live-action Jungle Book. (Once again, I can’t help wondering: Do all Hollywood people read
each other’s mail?)
Elsewhere, in the peaceful lumber
community of Millhaven, aging wood carver Meacham (Redford) has long delighted
local children with his tall tales of a “fierce dragon” that resides in the
nearby woods: a creature he once was fortunate enough to have seen. These
anecdotes are tolerated with amusement by Meacham’s daughter, Grace (Bryce
Dallas Howard), who as a forest ranger has devoted her career to protecting
those same forests.
That occasionally puts her at
odds with longtime boyfriend Jack (Wes Bentley), who happens to own the local
lumber mill with his brother, Gavin (Karl Urban, best known as Dr. McCoy in the
re-booted Star Trek series). Jack is
sensitive to Grace’s forward thinking, while at the same time constrained by
the business realities of keeping his company solvent; the hot-tempered Gavin,
in contrast, belongs to the demolish now/worry later school of thought.
Jack has an 11-year-old daughter,
Natalie (Oona Laurence), and the two of them — with Grace — make a cozy family
unit. But Grace hasn’t felt comfortable formalizing that bond yet, for obvious
reasons: a clever bit of scripted character conflict.
Gavin’s aggressive penetration of
the forest brings his crew ever closer to the region where Elliot and Pete hang
out. No surprise, then, that Natalie soon spots the inquisitive Pete, spying
curiously on this activity. Inevitably, he’s caught and brought to Millhaven,
where Grace attempts to figure out who he is, and how he survived so long.
Not that big a deal, Pete
replies. A friend helped.
Fegley’s work here is the second
persuasively endearing performance we’ve seen from a young actor depicting an
adolescent boy’s “introduction” to a civilized environment, following Jacob
Tremblay’s co-starring role in last year’s Room.
Granted, the parameters aren’t quite the same: Tremblay’s Jack never knew life
outside his comfortable prison, whereas Pete has his memories, as a 4-year-old,
of a different life. But the similarity exists.
Fegley is sweetly endearing as
this young stranger in a strange land, and he sells that concept quite
believably. He also shares several nice scenes with Laurence: The two children
bond well, particularly over a picture storybook with which both are familiar.
Elliot, back in the woods, misses
his small companion. Graced with the nose of a bloodhound, and the winged means
to cover vast swaths of territory quite rapidly, the dragon sets off to find
Pete.
Complications ensue, most notably
a development lifted straight out of King
Kong. And with similar, deeply upsetting results.
I’ve often complained that modern
family films lack teeth, and indulge in cotton-candy storytelling bereft of
real-world conflict; happy endings are more successful when the characters
involved struggle to achieve them. But I fear that Lowery and Halbrooks have
gone too far in the opposite direction, particularly given how much effort went
into making Elliot an intelligent, sensitive and compassionate creature.
He really is a marvel in every
respect. He bounds friskily like an overgrown puppy unaware of his size, invariably
looking surprised when his bulky self knocks down trees. He has a dog’s
curiosity about his own tail, and will chase it in circles; he also — and this
is my favorite bit — is rather unsteady about landings, after a bit of flying.
We’ve no idea how old Elliot is,
but we can assume he has been around for a long time, evading the gaze of
people via a chameleon-like talent for becoming nearly invisible. He smiles,
frowns and looks distraught, displaying a wide range of emotions through his
soulful eyes, the set of his mouth, and playful, purr-like rumblings or
disgusted snorts (the latter often rather gooey).
Most of the primary human
characters also are well played. Redford has a particularly nice scene when he
finally tells Grace, sans embellishment, what he actually experienced all those
years ago. Howard is completely believable as a dedicated forest ranger, and
she also displays earnest warmth as Grace tries to gain Pete’s trust. Then too,
Howard is adept at acting with immense beasties that don’t exist on the sound
stage, having gained considerable practice from last year’s Jurassic World.
Urban is credible as the
sorta-kinda villain of the piece: not an exaggerated monster by any means, but
just a self-centered guy who probably wasn’t good at sharing, as a kid. Gavin
feels real, like the guy next door who never recycles and refuses to stop
watering his lawn.
Bentley, alas, never gives Jack
much of a personality. That’s not entirely his fault, as Lowery and Halbrooks
didn’t grant Jack any memorable defining characteristics. He mostly responds to
the actions of others, rather than displaying resolve of his own.
All production credits are
top-notch, but the Pacific Northwest setting — gorgeous as it is — is a cheat;
the film was shot in New Zealand.
Much of what has gone into this
new Pete’s Dragon is laudable, and we
can’t help being captivated by every aspect of Elliot. But I fear that Lowery’s
often melancholy tone will prevent this fantasy from becoming a family go-to
favorite. The hovering memory of “Puff, the Magic Dragon” is too strong to be
ignored ... and that’s a problem as large as Elliot himself.
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