How do you evaluate a film that, by definition, is a copy of another—especially when the original was already excellent?
Premiering in 2010 (the same year, coincidentally, as Alice in Wonderland, the first big live-action remake success that pushed Disney toward increasingly faithful reboots), the original How to Train Your Dragon was already a high point in animated storytelling. Visually stunning, narratively rich, and emotionally resonant, it wasn’t just DreamWorks’ most mature work—it was arguably the studio’s masterpiece. By remaking it, the unspoken message seems to be: even the best of animation needs to be “upgraded” to live-action, as if animation weren’t already the most creatively free format to tell stories.
Which brings us to this 2025 remake—led by the same director, the same composer, and even some returning cast members. If I had no prior knowledge of the original, I might call this a masterpiece. It’s thrilling, funny, heartfelt, and full of spectacle. It’s a great movie. Still, it’s the same movie. The score, the dialogue, the jokes, even the character movements—it’s all nearly identical. The flying scenes still dazzle. The jokes still land. The action still thrills. And at its core, the bond between a fragile, underestimated boy and a wounded, misunderstood dragon is still just as moving.
What makes the experience so compelling again is the sheer care put into the execution. The visual effects are top-notch. The casting is excellent. And Dean DeBlois, returning as director, brings the same confident storytelling that made the original soar. It’s hard to find technical flaws. If I have one gripe, it’s that some of the stylized exaggerations didn’t quite carry over. In the animated version, Stoick’s enormous size made him stand out even among the other Vikings—it visually reinforced how small and helpless humans were compared to the dragons. That contrast added weight to the story’s stakes. Gerard Butler still brings strength to the role, but seeing him as a more average-sized human next to a giant dragon slightly dulls that effect. The opening scene also feels a bit artificial and so does Mason Thames’s wig. But once things get going, the emotion lands. I laughed in the same places, teared up in the same moments, and felt the same chills when that phenomenal score kicked in.
What’s missing isn’t quality—it’s purpose. This film doesn’t expand on the original or reinterpret it. It preserves it. Scene by scene, beat by beat. So while it’s an excellent version of How to Train Your Dragon, it doesn’t add to its legacy. It just reminds us how great the story already was.
The 2025 How to Train Your Dragon is a faithful, beautifully made remake that captures all the emotion and spectacle of the original. But by sticking so closely to what already worked, it offers nothing new to the story or its legacy. That said, I’m genuinely intrigued by the already-confirmed sequel. Both How to Train Your Dragon 2 and 3 had strong ideas but left room for improvement—and DeBlois has mentioned he had different plans for the third film that never made it to the screen. If this remake’s success creates space to refine those sequels, that’s an opportunity worth chasing. Maybe then we’ll get something that doesn’t just copy a masterpiece, but builds on it.