Play the Hits

If I have one question coming out of How to Train Your Dragon ’25, it’s asking what we expect from art. I recognize that DreamWorks, as a studio brand, doesn’t necessarily promise creative abstraction, even as Puss in Boots: The Last Wish found them turning the Shrek franchise into an effective commentary on our mortality. On some level, there is value in just sitting down and appreciating a story that’s ephemeral and gives you what you expect. 

After all, we go to live theater solely to see performers “play the hits.” Unless it’s advertised as such, nobody goes to a local theater to see a production of George Bernard Shaw that goes against the norm. Give us Eliza Doolittle selling flowers. Lose those slippers! There is something comforting in seeing people tell that story. We don’t want them to make it their own, at least on a core level. Maybe they can edit around costumes or actors’ limitations, but for the most part, you get the same thing you got from the last production. Part of that is likely a byproduct of licensing, but it’s also just that expectations can feel gratifying.

Maybe we expect more from film because there’s more of a to-do than in other forms. This isn’t a cover song where you pull out an acoustic guitar and knock out a three-minute ballad. There is a need to present something different. Some like Alfred Hitchcock and Michel Haneke have attempted this in their own careers, but some could argue there were significant differences between the interpretations. There was a desire to remake art that spoke to their technical proficiency.

And yet, I can’t be sure what Dean Deblois’ modus operandi is. On a deep, unintelligible level, I really like How to Train Your Dragon ’25. I got swept up in the John Powell score and the faithful rendering of Toothless. I was in awe of the production design and the way this world came to life. And yet, when I walked out and had to put down comments on my Letterboxd, the answer was clear. I liked it because I loved the original trilogy. It remains a high point of American studio animation, and I still feel bitter about all three losing the Oscar. There was a world rich with emotions. The CGI was expressive and thrilling. I felt the grandeur, and thus I felt the grandeur again. I laughed at those jokes even if I reprogrammed my brain to hear Jay Baruchel saying it. For as much as I got lost in the world again, the ability to separate “the why” was difficult. 

It's probably made worse because the changes aren’t even as intelligible as my comparison points. This is Deblois doing Deblois exactly how he did it in 2010. The only difference is that it’s live action, and I’d argue not enough has changed to make this feel innovative. This may be a story that translates a bit too well to its new form, but what’s “the why”? There is almost zero flex that exists outside of your relationship to the larger franchise. If you haven’t seen it, there’s a great chance you’ll like it more. However, those who love the animated films may spend the rest of their lives nitpicking which scene was done better in which way.

Then again, the alternative is the other Deblois film that has been adapted for a live-action summer hit. Lilo & Stitch ’25 has gotten all the box office but way more complaints. It’s not out of practice for Disney’s live-action remakes to have that reputation, which speaks mostly to what feels like a karaoke interpretation of the hits. The changes are rarely celebrated and, in this case, are criticized as missing the point of the original story’s pro-family themes. Sure, there are likely changes that make the adaptation worth it, but it does feel like a regression to “play the hits.” It’s a notion I haven’t understood, especially for Disney, because their originals redefined the medium.

But here’s the thing. Even if these live-action remakes are subjectively worse in my mind than How to Train Your Dragon, they at least have talking points. There is some recognition of creatives trying to enhance and contemporize. Like the live theater, you can judge the acting decisions or the small tweaks. There is something noticeably different, and it’s part of why you enjoy going in the first place. They may not be great, but what if they make you see something new in Lilo & Stitch that makes it timeless?

In the grand scheme of things, I like How to Train Your Dragon. It’s one of the most impressive live-action remakes of the 21st century just because of how well it captures the aura of its source material. However, there’s so much in “the why” that keeps me from ever calling it great. There is nothing about the performances that feels divorced from what I’ve already seen. There aren’t enough affects in the line deliveries that feel off the beaten course. All we have is a very good summer blockbuster that captures the magic. I still smile when Toothless takes flight. My heart still races when Powell’s score starts that montage. The issue is that I’m not totally sure if it’s earned or just goodwill left over from the 15 years of watching the other version.