Pete’s Dragon: How it proves remakes aren’t (always) a bad idea

Trust me, there’s a part of my soul that feels vaguely gross in coming to the defence of the Hollywood machine.

Anyone who treasures the creative enterprise should be repulsed by the endless recycling – and, in principle, I am – but then something like Pete’s Dragon always seems to come ambling out of the shadows, and suddenly I’m not quite sure what I’m meant to think anymore.

If there is a silver lining to reboot culture, here it is. Pete’s Dragon is a sheep in wolf’s clothing; nectar in a bottle marked poison. It’s one of the most ambitious, artful, and heartfelt mainstream films of the year; arriving to screens hidden under the mantle of crass nostalgia.

In fact, take away its multi-million dollar CGI effects and starry cast (Bryce Dallas Howard, Karl Urban, and Robert Redford); and the dreamy, reflective tone that’s left shares far more in common with the sort of film littering the schedules of Sundance or SXSW than summer’s box office battleground.

Yes, Pete’s Dragon is a Disney film – a sweet, little tale about a boy discovered living out in the woods with his pet dragon Elliott, who turns invisible at will to hide from those he cannot trust. But it’s also distinctly a David Lowery film. Whatever grip the studio may have had on his shoulders, there’s still a sense his voice remains largely intact here; you can still look at Pete’s Dragon and see, yes, this is the same hand that guided 2013’s wistful, poetic neo-western Ain’t Them Bodies Saints.

Both these films exist in the world of fading memories, the kind of worn-in Americana of folk tales and traditions; it’s in this tone that Pete’s Dragon soars above its competitors, by harking back to the kind of straight storytelling that draws the heart back to still nights, heritage quilts, and a grandparent’s voice wafting in the air.

It’s a love letter to the Disney legacy created by someone clearly enraptured by its optimism in their youth. It’s a film that feels deeply classic, but not necessarily nostalgic; one that feels adventurous, yet familiar in its heart.

However, there’s a question we must ask here. Would Disney have ever had the confidence to greenlight this film without the Pete’s Dragon title attached, as an entirely original David Lowery creation? Would any Hollywood studio? Would audiences actually have had the motivation to see it? In an ideal world, the answer to all of these questions would be a profound, yes. But this is far from an ideal world.

The accusation of creative laziness is an easy one to make, however, Disney aren’t acting out of any form of cowardice utterly without reason; they may continue to push for original properties on the animation side – from Zootropolis to Moana – but they’ve had some significant box office stumbles on the live-action side with the likes of Tomorrowland and John Carter, which weren’t even entirely original properties in themselves. Reboot culture is a reactive sort of obsession, drawn out of fear in an uncertain age of Hollywood cinema.

In that light, Pete’s Dragon is a pretty interesting route for Disney to take with its remakes; a property whose familiarity isn’t so much tied to any preciousness about the original 1977 film, but the very title itself. Because, let’s face it – the first Pete’s Dragon is not a terribly good film by most standards, a kind of afterthought of the Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks era. A musical by name, its songs are largely screechy and humourless, lightly accompanied by a charmless and desperately overlong plot.

Yet, thanks to the mystical powers of excessive merchandising, Elliott – tiny pink wings and all – still somehow found his way into the cultural consciousness, largely divorced of the film from which he originated. Pretty much everyone knows Pete’s Dragon has something to do with a big, green dragon and a little boy. But that’s about it, and that’s turned into some very profitable insight for Disney.

The offering of total freedom, whilst maintaining the blanket security of familiar property, Pete’s Dragon is a remake in name only, with almost every detail altered outside of its central friendship. Pete is no longer the child to abusive parents who makes friends with a lighthouse keeper, but a mysterious orphan (Oakes Fegley) discovered living in the wilderness by a local forest ranger (Dallas Howard); switching the action from a coastal town in Maine to the woodlands of the Pacific Northwest. And the film certainly ditches the music element.

The feeling that Pete’s Dragon is distinctly a Lowery project also brings to mind another surprise critical hit of recent times, none other than George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road. A sequel, yes, but also something of a second attempt at the same concept by its original visionary; now gifted with studio confidence, and the financial perks that come with it. Knowing that Miller’s own return to the franchise was a kind of financial guarantee in its itself, Fury Road blossoms with creative autonomy: it’s wildly bold asterism that no studio could concoct on its own.

If we must bow to reboot culture, then let us be allowed this one caveat: allow the boon of franchise familiarity to finally entrust some confidence in filmmakers themselves. Let’s have less of the scrambles that took place behind the scenes of Suicide Squad - with films snatched out of the hands of directors and into the paws of boardroom hive minds – and more faith in the strength of artistic vision.

Pete’s Dragon may function on the siren’s call of superficial nostalgia, but if that’s what it takes to get new audiences flocking to see and discover how wonderful a David Lowery film can be, maybe that’s a sacrifice we should be happier to make. Here, Disney’s quietly made one of the smartest moves of the year. Let’s just hope for the future of the studio – and for reboot culture in general – it actually pays off.