If you read this essay's title and remember when I did my Top 10 DreamWorks Animated Movies List, you’ll know that How to Train Your Dragon took the number one position. This month marks one year of doing this essay series, and what better way to commemorate it than by discussing the original How to Train Your Dragon animated film in time for the live-action remake? It’s more than just a visually stunning family film—it’s a masterclass in storytelling, character development, thematic depth, emotional resonance, and a pillar of what makes me a cinephile. I remember seeing the poster for it, thinking, “This sounds so dumb, no way anyone will want to see this.” Lo and behold, How to Train Your Dragon became the best animated film of the 2010s, proving the age-old adage that you can’t judge a book by its cover. It’s a reminder to be yourself, even if you feel like an outcast in your environment.

At its heart, How to Train Your Dragon is a coming-of-age story. Unlike many animated features that rely on slapstick humor or simplistic narratives, this film offers a deeply emotional journey grounded in empathy, courage, and self-discovery. Hiccup is not a typical hero; he is skinny, awkward, and often dismissed by his Viking peers, especially his father, Stoick the Vast. The movie doesn't rush to make him a warrior. Instead, it charts his path not through force, but compassion and understanding.

The relationship between Hiccup and Toothless is the emotional cornerstone of the film. Their bond develops silently at first, built on curiosity, patience, and trust. When Hiccup first realizes he cannot kill the injured dragon, it’s a defining moment that encapsulates the film’s emotional intelligence. That decision leads him to challenge his entire culture’s worldview, a surprisingly complex moral arc for a children’s film. Rather than following the mold of good vs. evil, How to Train Your Dragon explores the fear of the unknown and the cost of blind tradition—ideas rarely handled so delicately in family animation.

Technically, the film is a landmark in animation. Collaborating with cinematographer Roger Deakins as a visual consultant, directors Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders crafted a world that feels fantastical and real. The animation of Toothless is particularly noteworthy—his feline and reptilian qualities are blended seamlessly, making his expressions deeply readable and endearing without relying on anthropomorphism. He doesn’t speak, yet he’s one of the most emotive characters in animation history. The flying sequences are perhaps the film’s most breathtaking technical achievement. Using dynamic camera movements and sweeping aerial perspectives, they capture the visceral thrill of flying in ways rarely matched in cinema. The first flight scene with Hiccup and Toothless soars not just because of the animation, but because it reflects their growing trust. These scenes evoke awe and wonder, but they are always grounded in emotion.

Few animated scores rival the one composed by John Powell. It’s not just an accompaniment; it’s a voice in the film. The fusion of Celtic, Nordic, and orchestral influences gives the world of Berk a unique sonic identity that is both exotic and intimate. It's more engaging to hear it live, as it pulls you in even more. I saw the Kansas City Symphony perform it live in concert back in March. Powell's themes are soaring and unforgettable, particularly “Test Drive” and “Romantic Flight.” They help elevate the flight sequences into cinematic magic. Not to mention “Forbidden Friendship” being the most soulful score piece I’ve heard in a kids' movie, acting as the icing on the cake to Hiccup and Toothless’ initial time bonding. When Hiccup and Toothless finally take to the skies in perfect sync, Powell’s score swells with energy and beauty, creating a moment of cinematic euphoria as their themes mash with such beauty.

Another key strength of the film lies in its characters, who feel refreshingly real. Hiccup’s journey from outcast to innovator is rich with internal conflict. His struggle to earn his father’s respect while staying true to his compassionate instincts is poignant and relatable. Stoick, voiced by Gerard Butler, is not just a gruff authority figure; he is layered, capable of change, and ultimately embodies a father trying, and failing, to understand his son—until he finally does. Despite being a dragon, Toothless emerges as one of the most beloved animated characters. His personality—mischievous, proud, and loyal—is conveyed entirely through body language and facial expression, a testament to the animators’ skill. The supporting characters, like Astrid, Gobber, and the other dragon trainees, also bring warmth and humor, adding texture to the world without distracting from the core narrative.

But what truly cements How to Train Your Dragon as one of the greatest animated films of all time is its thematic resonance. It deals with acceptance, empathy, the courage to defy tradition, and the ability to see beyond fear. Hiccup’s bond with Toothless becomes a metaphor for embracing the misunderstood, and the film argues—without didacticism—that true strength lies not in domination but in understanding. The film also challenges generational divisions. Stoick and the older Vikings represent a world built on survival and fear, while Hiccup’s generation offers a path forward through compassion and adaptability. That intergenerational tension is rarely depicted with such subtlety in animated films, making the resolution not only satisfying but thematically rich. Its themes extend to questions of war and peace, predator and prey, and the idea that enemies are often misunderstood allies. These are heady topics for a film aimed at children, but they are presented with elegance and clarity that resonate across all age groups.

How to Train Your Dragon is not merely a great animated movie—it is a great film, period. Its blend of emotional storytelling, technical excellence, unforgettable music, and meaningful themes allows it to transcend its genre and appeal to audiences of all ages. It dares to be sincere in an era where cynicism often prevails, and it prioritizes empathy, growth, and understanding over spectacle and noise. Hiccup’s journey from misunderstood outcast to a bridge between worlds speaks to anyone who has ever felt different or questioned tradition. The film’s breathtaking animation, especially in its flight sequences, and John Powell’s soaring score only heighten its emotional power. Toothless, one of the most beloved non-speaking characters in film, represents the magic that can come from trust and patience. How to Train Your Dragon remains a testament to the storytelling potential of animation and a timeless tale of courage, connection, and transformation.

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