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.
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.
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.
