The Disney family picture Pete’s Dragon lumbers right up to the border of cloying, but doesn’t tip over. After a fast, cruel opening — car trip, beatific mom beaming at adorable 5-year-old, hideous crash — the little boy, Pete, wanders into a deep forest and is saved from wolves by a furred, cuddly dragon. Six years later, Pete (Oakes Fegley, a forest-dweller’s name if ever I’ve heard one), is a regular little Tarzan, scampering over vines and spending nights in a cave curled up beside his friend, whom he names Elliot, after a character in a picture book he clutched when he slipped from his parents’ devastated car. All would be idyllic — or as idyllic as it could be, minus a human mom and dad — but for a construction crew led by Karl Urban, as one of those macho anti-environmentalists who want to chew up the wilderness and shoot anything left over. Fortunately, Urban’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, Grace (Bryce Dallas Howard), is a kind, dreamy-eyed, maternal ...
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