In 2010, the animated version of “How to Train Your Dragon” took the world by storm with its novel animation style, triumphant orchestral score and eccentric characters. The movie was promoted with dragon figurines and plushies, sold anywhere that was convenient — much to the joy of my sister and I when we scored a Toothless and Hookfang toy from a McDonald’s kids meal, which are hiding in our basement somewhere. Needless to say, this movie probably sparked a newfound fascination with dragons in all young kids, broadening their imaginations of what it would be like to live alongside this formidable species.
15 years later, the public interest in dragons still holds strong, if the popularity of Rebecca Yarros’ Empyrean series about a dragon-riding academy is any indicator. Riding off this steady momentum, we now get a live-action remake that is essentially a frame-by-frame recreation of the original “How to Train Your Dragon.” The only differences are the removal of Astrid’s hair color and its about 20-minute longer runtime. And although I was slightly disappointed with Astrid’s lack of platinum blonde, I welcomed the extra screen time, which helped audiences better understand the storyline rather than acting as unnecessary filler.
“How to Train Your Dragon” keeps the same premise as the original: Hiccup (Mason Thames, “Monster Summer”) is an unconventional viking from the village of Berk, whose inhabitants must train to slay dragons to prevent their homes and livestock from getting pilfered. Shortly after starting dragon slaying camp, Hiccup befriends Toothless, a Night Fury dragon, who teaches him about the dragon’s intelligence and loyalty rather than their supposed danger. He also learns about their weaknesses, allowing him to defeat dragons in the camp without resorting to violence, surprising his peers and frustrating his love interest, Astrid (Nico Parker, “Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy”). As the human and dragon worlds hang in delicate balance due to the continuous fighting, Hiccup must then decide whether to make peace with the dragons or follow the viking tradition of dragon slaying.
Ultimately, this is a heartfelt story about being different, yearning for acceptance and staying true to one’s values. The original animated film struck a chord with elementary school me, since I was figuring out the complications of moving schools and entering friend groups at the time. The same uncertain coming-of-age energy still resonates with me today, as I navigate relationships in college, move to a new city for a summer job and plan for life post-graduation. Overall, I was excited to see this nostalgic storyline in live-action, and the film did not disappoint with the level of emotion and passion played out by the characters.
The 2025 remake of “How to Train Your Dragon” was impactful. Despite my skepticism about the use of CGI in its interaction with characters and how it could misshape the dragons’ appearance, many of the scenes surprised me by turning out to be almost as effective as those from the original. The hyperrealistic set design and the character design amazed me because I had always believed this type of setting could only be created by magic growing up. And despite being live-action, Toothless was adorably cat-like, especially with his round green eyes. Perhaps director Dean DeBlois (“Lilo and Stitch”) wanted to introduce the idea that even the most unlikely of pets can be our greatest companions and most supportive champions.
But it wasn’t just the special effects or immaculate blue screen use that amazed me — it was also the level of effort placed into the cinematography. Throughout the film, I noticed I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen the same scenes before — and no, not the original, but from another live-action film. A quick Google search and some reflecting later, I realized it’s because 2025’s “How to Train Your Dragon” drew inspiration from the camerawork and cinematic techniques used in the Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings franchises. (No wonder the scenes from inside Hiccup’s home reminded me of Hagrid’s cottage or a Hobbit home!)
From the animation to now, the live-action “How to Train Your Dragon” leveraged wide shots to illustrate the scope of the dragon’s flight, forced perspective to compare mankind to the magnificence of dragonkind and used moody lighting to create dark and dramatic atmospheres. The camera is dynamic in the film: It is not afraid to shy away, be in our characters’ faces or on the reins of a dragon as it makes a steep dive. As a result, we get a dynamic lens that truly transports the viewer into this fantastical world — one with a beautiful portrayal of Berk.
Knowing the original was distinguished by its advanced and revolutionary animation, I’m glad the live-action remake paid homage to the original setting and didn’t try to detract from it.
Upon watching the behind-the-scenes special, I gained a greater appreciation for the immersiveness of the film after learning that the village of Berk and the battle arena were built by hand, stone by stone, step by step. Not only did this eliminate the potential of a glitchy background, but it also gave the cast a chance to know how it felt to live like a viking.
“How to Train Your Dragon” was an ideal example of a flawlessly executed and stunningly filmed shot-by-shot recreation. Yet, when I was watching the film, I had lingering thoughts about what this film means for the future of cinema and how far we can rely on nostalgia for box office sales.
Remakes are a surefire way to garner attention: We crave the familiar, and a predictable narrative allows us to more easily appreciate improvements ranging from new soundtracks to satisfying character arcs to jaw-dropping costume design. However, this leaves me with an unsettled question: Where do we make space for originality? We may achieve innovation through advanced technologies, enhancing the viewing experience, but what about the stories themselves? With the influx of live-action remakes, it begs the question of whether we will one day depend solely on rehashed versions of old classics, simply because they will be the only ones that can sell, resulting in a feedback loop where not much else is being created.
I have no doubt that live-action adaptations will continue to make their way to the theaters, because there will always be audiences who long for a portal sending them back to their younger days. But as our generation ages and new generations are born, I am only forced to wonder where we draw the balance between replicating beloved animated elements for future generations — who may never watch the original — and making changes that nod to the growing maturity of older viewers.
Daily Arts Writer Michelle Wu can be reached at michewu@umich.edu.
