Over Passover vacation, when the weather was crummy and the entertainment options were limited, I took the kidlets – all three of them – to see a matinée showing of How To Train Your Dragon.
In this Lilo and Stitch-meets-Avatar adventure story, you can’t help but champion for Hiccup, the very worst Viking on the island of Berk. Coincidentally, Hiccup is also the only son of Chief Stoick the Vast, the very best Viking on the island. He sees the answer to all of his problems – catching and killing a Night Fury – the most elusive and most dangerous of Dragons. Surprisingly, he is successful in his quest, but realizes that these Dragons are not what his father and his crew originally thought, and in absolutely no plot surprise, Hiccup and Toothless the Night Fury form a bond and save the day for the Dragons and the Vikings.
It’s a story we are familiar with. There are little surprises here.
Except for one.
I unexpectedly LOVED this film. I loved the heck out it. It was so visually appealing, the dialogue was snappy without being cheesy, the father/son relationship was perfectly awkward, and all three of my children liked it.
I did, however, walk out of the film wondering one thing….how come all the adult Vikings are Scottish and brogue-y, but all the their children are American?