Emily Volman

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Boo Bop Bopbop Bop

Written by Emily on January 28, 2011 – 3:20 pm -

Hardly a day goes by that I’m not asked, “Emily, tell me more about your obsession with the movie Pete’s Dragon.” (That’s because my dog knows I like to tell the story. She loves me.) But today, in tribute and remembrance of Charlie Callas, the best non-talking-yet-I-kind-of-know-what-you’re-trying-to-convey-through-your-sleep-apnea voices to have ever been recorded in the history of cinema, I share this story with you…my imaginary friends.

I’ve never really liked Disney anything. I didn’t even like cartoons, truth be told. I had a Gem and the Holograms thing for a few months and went through a short Smurfs phase, but I pretty much jumped right into sitcoms and pirated-interference-ridden Spice Channel porns by the age of 7. I like to think it’s because I was on a higher plane than other children. Or a hormonal imbalance.

But long before that, Disney made one of the worst creative decisions since Song Of The South. Pete’s Dragon. Although, I’m now realizing I liked Song Of The South, too. Fascinating. I need to process this…grab a knapsack & hobo into the freight of my thought train, if you’d like.

Both have live action mixed with animation. As I’ve already noted, I wasn’t a fan of cartoons, but being the compromising, flexible person I naturally am, I was apparently comfortable proceeding with each film’s 50% non-practical life applications.

Both had songs. If I was Christina Aguilera, you would already know from my A&E Biography how into singing and music I was coming out of the womb.  ESPECIALLY bland heart-stroking songs about hope for tomorrow and black people.

Both had rascally influential friends. Most people identify with the protagonist in movies; not me. In my mind, I have and will always only ever be the “funny friend.”

Most importantly, both movies were something my father and I shared. My dad used to read to me from this very big yellow Uncle Remus book, with its smelly old pages and slightly torn jacket.
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I’ve kept it all these years because it meant so much to me. My dad would do all the voices. He was terrible at them – butchering the English language even further than Joel Chandler Harris wrote it – but he did it with gusto. Because he knew I loved it. I didn’t know what the stories were about. Guess that’s why I liked him to read Little Black Sambo, too. Wait. WHY DID WE OWN THESE BOOKS?!

I prefer not to address the white elephant in the room. I mean…!  Moving on.

Pete’s Dragon came out in 1979. I was five. I would attempt to blame naivete for my immediate fixation on Helen Reddy in lace-up boots and barrel dancing petticoats, but I still like that shit. My dad, meanwhile, got the biggest kick out of the Doc Terminus character (played by Jim Dale). Because of this, he didn’t mind watching this movie 5 times a day, as I insisted. It probably grew to an unhealthy situation at some point, but I was sitting in front of a television not bothering my parents, so what the hell did they care.

I still know every line of Pete’s Dragon. Every lyric. Every lip slap & snort. Every hitch-step. It’s never really paid off with any significance, except that my Elliot impression once scared off a creepy guy I dated AND I’ve never let a household chore get me down.

And now, decades later, I have become one of “those” people. I collect Pete’s Dragon pins. It’s the only thing I collect. (So all your Star Wars fucknuts need to pipe down.) And because some are slightly hard to come by, I find fun in the challenge of hunting down the rare pins.

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I keep them in a really shitty shadow box I got at a craft store. But I like them. They remind me of my past. My childhood. When I was the center of the universe. …I have revealed too much.

Thank you, Charlie Callas. Thank you turning “[Dragon Scatting]” – as the script officially called for – into unforgettably stupid noises that still bring great joy into at least 263 human’s lives. You will be missed…by your family most likely. I mean, I’m good. I own the movie on DVD. No, but seriously, rest in peace.


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