How to shoot your reboot

Express Tribune

21-07-2025

As most parents of small children can attest, one of the world's greatest places to take a nap is a cinema. This holds particularly true if that cinema's head honchoes have had the foresight to install reclining leather seats and an industrial-strength air conditioning unit blasting out shades of the Arctic. It is why so many brave souls will fork over hard-earned money to sit through the Smurfs film this summer, probably the reason Inside Out 2 was able to rake in over a billion dollars last year, and must be why filmmakers deem it perfectly acceptable to toss out a sequel to Bad Guys next month. There is nothing that primary caregivers of young children love more than a good nap, and they are willing to pay to get it.
However, if scheduling a decent daytime nap is your primary goal when you cave to child-originated requests to watch the live action remake of Dreamworks' How To Train Your Dragon at the cinema (which has already been out for about five weeks, so it is time you stopped dragging your feet), then you are urged to reconsider. No naps will be had here today. For a solid two hours, writer and director Dean DeBlois and his How To Train Your Dragon team have just one goal: to blow your mind, completely and utterly.
How to make a remake
You are defenceless against this incoming mind-blowiing no matter which side you are approaching this remake from. It doesn't matter if you are a taking your first baby steps into this franchise, or are a devoted fan of the animated original, or if have only the wispiest of memories of when you watched it twice 15 years ago.
Whatever your current state of mind is, Gerard Butler's blue eyes - lifted straight from the animation (as is Butler himself) - will give you an electric shock. As Stoic the Vast, Butler's beautiful Scottish lilt and the soliloquies of seething frustration he spits out at his son (and our hero) Hiccup are lifted straight from the original. You will either swim in an ocean of nostalgia as memories of the original ticker-tape before you, or squirm as the tiniest hidden part of you begins to relate - for the first time - to this unreasonable mountain of a man. Stoic desperately wants his son to live up to his dragon-slaying Viking heritage, and is genuinely flabbergasted at how he can produce a boy so unlike him in every way. Fifteen years later, we may still swear our allegiance to Hiccup, but now, with Butler there in the flesh to make us understand Stoic better than ever, is it possible that we understand his growing desperation over the generation gap?
You will see Vikings of unorthodox ethnicity as the cast expands to include diversity, but Stoic offers the simplest of explanations to explain as to how they came to be here in the cold and dragon-infested Isle of Berk. However, it is our most important Viking, the almost twig-like Hiccup, who will abscond with your heart. A hero in the purest form, Hiccup's struggles for acceptance will twang a chord in anyone who has ever struggled to gain acceptance, be it at school or at home or anywhere else. His story speaks to everyone in that movie theatre, whether you are the child who dragged your parents, or the parents who gave in to the child. You cannot help but adore this boy with a beautiful soul, who does everything he can to protect the dragon he once vowed to kill.
If you somehow remain unmoved by the boy, the first time you see Toothless the dragon slide open one giant cat-like emerald eye, you may understand that love at first sight does, in fact, exist. It is a love that will blossom with every tentative step both boy and dragon take towards one another, and burgeon to bursting point when you take to the skies with Toothless and Hiccup for the very first time. As you soar above mountains, dive through valleys and glide over seas, you will realise only now that you are doing what neither Peter Pan nor Aladdin's magic carpet could pull off. You are flying without wings, transported far beyond the confines of your cinema leather chair.
However, all of this is a moot point, regardless of whether or not you cherished that longstanding childhood ambition of flying; from the moment those opening credits roll across the screen, the music will swallow you whole with no intention of letting you go. It really doesn't matter what Stoic, Hiccup or Toothless get up to. At the end of the day, you get a gift of plaintive orchestra that conveys Vikings' struggle with dragons, a boy's bottomless love for the pet who gave him a purpose, and a dragon's undying devotion for the one person who ever understood him. Close your eyes, and you will picture it all playing out in the screen of your mind. If music could speak words, John Powell's score says as much as every word spoken by the cast - and beyond.
And now, because we are also happy to include even the most reluctant filmgoer, if you still find yourself checking your Instagram notifications during this mesmerising two hours, then it is possible you are cyrogenically frozen and you are watching this as you time-travelled from a dystopian future. In which case you probably have bigger problems than one live-action remake.
A final lesson
If Disney could somehow learn how Dreamworks and DeBlois harness all the devotion and attention to detail that goes into creating a true faithful remake, nitpickity fans could perhaps stop complaining about the off-centre sunrise in the 2019 Lion King or the muted lifeless colours of the 2019 Aladdin. (For one thing, they wouldn't have to complain because no one filmmaker would have been idiotic enough to allow it to happen.) Because this is 2025, and we have thus already suffered through numerous Disney reboots, by now we already know that when we hear the phrase 'live-action remake', it is really code for 'soulless cash grab'. We have no one but ourselves to blame for production houses' predeliction for soulless cash grabs when it comes to children's films, because, if you recall, parents are by no means averse to very expensive naps in a dark room.
DeBlois, however, is the man responsible for the first animated How To Train Your Dragon in 2010, and has thus sidestepped all these Disney-esque pitfalls to give us the direct opposite of a soulless cash grab. Instead, with consummate surgeon-like precision as he reconstructs the film shot-by-shot, he has given us, a soulful tribute - one that is emboldened with a rich orchestra and a cast and crew who treat the original with reverence it deserves. In conclusion, your dreams of that nap will, regrettably - albeit fittingly in a film featuring fire-breathing dragons - go up in smoke. Save the nap for when you are forced to go and endure Smurfs.