Peeeeeeetey. 

By the second Petey, reality sets in, an orphaned child-slave, sold to a sadistic hillbilly family, running for his freedom, accompanied by, presumably, an imaginary dragon. It is remarkable how Pete’s Dragon spares us the true horror of the film’s given circumstances. 

It’s disturbing at times, rampant alcohol abuse, child abuse, dragon abuse, all sweetly blended into a beautifully hopeful story about love and friendship, with one of Disney’s most under-appreciated songbooks. 

There’s room for everyone in this world.

A lovely idea on its surface, finding everyone somewhere to stand. Everyone deserves a place. Make some room. Even if it’s for a dragon. 

The song is a sweet and interesting contradiction because so much of the film is really about deciding when to let people go.

What sets the best of Disney apart from all other studios is their mastery of universality. They work with life’s simple truths in a fantastical universe, which makes them timeless. They have more to say to you as an adult than they did when you were a kid.

We’ve all had a dragon come into our lives. Maybe we loved them, shared roasted apples and some laughs, cried together. We’ve argued and agreed, made mistakes and made amends. Perhaps, serendipitously, the dragon in our lives came when we needed them the most.  

It’s nice waking up when you’re close beside me. 

But nothing lasts forever. People change, situations change. The happiest home in these hills can turn out to be cages and chains. Dragons can be destructive. They can hurt you as much as they help, keep you from evolving, growing up, moving forward. Sometimes you have to let your dragon go. 

It’s not easy.

Because dragons aren’t evil. They don’t smash the streets and tear the steeples down as others might have you believe. There can be magic in even the most inconvenient relationships. Friends can be different.   

In a world full of people who will try to take every little piece of you, it’s not easy to find someone who cares. When you find them, you treasure them. You hope to never let them go.

But they do go eventually, one way or another. 

The optimism of Disney is that everything ends with happily ever after, it presumes that those we love will always come back to us before the credits roll. Just stand atop the lighthouse, eyes fixed on the sea, until they finally see the candle on the water.

But what if they never see it? When should you let them go? How long should you make room for someone who is invisible to you? 

Dragons are the same as people. They don’t like to be compartmentalized. It’s lonely hiding in a cave, waiting for the one you love to stop by for a quick game of tic-tac-toe. Dragons need to be needed. 

I’ve been both the dragon and Pete in my own life, and it makes me sad that some of my happiest memories are with people who I will never see again. Whether they’ve moved on or passed on, we all have to say goodbye. 

It’s not easy.

But happiness never comes easy, even in a Disney film. The beautiful sentiment of Pete’s Dragon is that saying goodbye doesn’t mean forgetting how much our dragons meant to us at the time. 

There’s always another little boy or girl out there who needs a dragon, and when it’s time to let your dragon fly away, even though it’s heartbreaking, you can take comfort that there are still brazzle dazzle days ahead for you both. 

You’re just making room for everyone else in the world you are destined to meet.