Competent Live-Action 'HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON' Is a Shot-for-Shot Remake Absent Its Own Merit

Few modern animated films have achieved the emotional clarity, visual majesty, and thematic resonance of 2010’s How to Train Your Dragon and its two sequels. They’re bold, inventive works that understood the cinematic power of animation without pandering to children or dulling their edges for mass appeal. So yes, I went into the live-action remake with something bordering on dread. But also, curiosity. Against my better judgment, and seduced slightly by some early, suspiciously polite buzz, I gave it a shot.
And look, this live-action remake from DreamWorks and director Dean DeBlois — who, yes, also directed every previous HTTYD film — isn’t an outright abomination, at least not in the usual sense. It’s no Aladdin (flat and cringe-y, even by Will Smith standards), The Little Mermaid (off-key and off-putting), The Lion King (a dead-eyed exercise in uncanny valley), or Pinocchio (soulless and somehow exactly what you’d expect). But it’s still a painfully literal, shot-for-shot, beat-by-beat remake. Competent by many technical standards, sure. But utterly devoid of its own merit, of any discernible point of view, of anything resembling a reason to exist beyond sheer commercial cynicism. It’s “alive” in the way a Madame Tussauds wax figure is: technically impressive, vaguely unsettling, and more than a little sad.

If you’ve never seen the original, this version might play just fine. But I’ll never understand why anyone creative signs on for these projects. Well, I do: it’s for money. And only money. These films are the cinematic equivalent of paint-by-numbers and may achieve about the same level of artfulness. Technically art, maybe, if you’re squinting, but only in the most soulless, mechanical sense. A flawless recreation of the Mona Lisa isn’t the Mona Lisa. It’s a facsimile. An impression. And at best, that’s what this is.

Yes, the aerial sequences have moments of awe. Yes, the Northern Irish backdrops lend everything a lush, photogenic quality. The largely practical sets make the production feel lived-in and impressive. But the story? The characters? Practically indistinguishable from the original. I’m not here to offer a frame-by-frame comparison — though I’m sure some YouTuber will by the time it hits VOD — but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone told me they did and found near-total overlap. A total eclipse of the sun. And of course, this entirely aped remake is not as good. It can’t be. Because it’s not original. It doesn’t have an original thought, let alone an original perspective. Art without a point of view is just product. This movie is a carbon copy, a Ctrl+C/Ctrl+V job masquerading as cinema.

The plot, if you need a refresher: the Viking clan of Berk is locked in a long-standing war with dragons. Hiccup (Mason Thames), the scientifically inclined and chronically disappointing son of clan leader Stoick the Vast (Gerard Butler, reprising his role), accidentally befriends a wounded Night Fury, which he names Toothless. Through this bond, he discovers that dragons aren’t the malevolent beasts legend claims, but misunderstood creatures acting in self-defense. Hiccup hides and trains the dragon in secret while attempting to broker peace between their species.

Meanwhile, he endures the traditional Viking rite of passage, the Trial of Fire, alongside his fellow trainees: steely-eyed crush Astrid (Nico Parker), gentle giant Fishlegs (Julian Dennison), blowhard rival Snotlout (Gabriel Howell), and the ever-bickering twins Ruffnut (Bronwyn James) and Tuffnut (Harry Trevaldwyn), all under the tutelage of kindly Gobber the Belch (Nick Frost). There’s a mind-controlling dragon queen orchestrating the whole mess from the shadows. It’s the same story. Exactly. No change.

The emotional beats still technically hit, but only because they already did in the original. The heart of the story — the connection between boy and beast, the desperate need for parental approval — still works. But it’s like being moved by a print of a famous painting. You wouldn’t heap praise on the guy who ran the printer. So despite being somewhat taken by it in the moment, it’s all just so categorically empty.

What baffles me most is that, unlike some Disney remakes, this version doesn’t even try to modernize or reframe anything. No visual reinvention. No script updates. No tweaks to character or theme. Not even a token attempt to swap in/out talking animals. It’s just the same movie, recreated from the same DNA. And the original isn’t even old. It’s not like we’ve been starved of this world. The last entry came out just six years ago. It didn’t need an update because it already looked and sounded great. And yet, here we are.

John Powell returns to compose the score, having previously done the same on the original trilogy. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the exact same score. The big, sweeping musical moments hit with familiar impact, mostly because we’ve already heard them before. Stirring? Sure. But it’s the same score. While Bill Pope handles the cinematography this time around, Roger Deakins — who served as chief visual consultant on the animated films — was reportedly approached to work on the live-action version but declined. Which, again, only underscores the filmmakers’ intentions: to recreate the original as closely as possible. Same script. Same score. Same lighting consultant, if they could have had him.

It’s all so baffling. So hollow. So mind-numbingly unnecessary. The cast is pretty good. The effects are pretty good. But the whole thing left me with that vague, existential dread that comes from watching something carefully constructed for maximum profit and minimum inspiration. I don’t really have anything else to add. These things are critic-proof. I just hope I eventually gain the wherewithal to stop getting fooled into seeing them.

CONCLUSION: ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ is perhaps the most faithful live-action remake I’ve ever seen. Beat by beat, shot by shot, line by line. Literally the same score. Same director. Some of the same actors. Not even a whiff of anything new. It’s an impressively executed carbon copy — and that’s the problem.