Dear Dragons, I’ve Missed You — A Dreamer’s Review of How to Train Your Dragon (2025)
June 8th, 2025.
I just returned from the cinema. The sky outside was that soft shade of purple-blue, the kind of sky where, if you squint just right, you might see a silhouette gliding through the clouds. Dragons, of course. You might roll your eyes, but in my heart, I’ve always believed they’re still out there somewhere.
Tonight, How to Train Your Dragon (2025) reminded me why.
The Return of an Old Friend
You see, these movies aren’t just stories for me. They’re promises. Promises that somewhere, between the crackle of fire and the rush of wind in your hair, magic still exists. Walking into that theater, I carried a little apprehension. Would it live up to the wonder of the earlier films? Would it understand what it meant to let a dragon soar again?
Reader, it did.
A Sky Worth Chasing
The animation alone deserves a sonnet. There are moments where the screen becomes a canvas of light and color — twilight skies, shimmering seas, and the warm glow of dragon fire. It’s not just beautiful; it’s transportive. I found myself leaning forward more than once, chasing the flight paths of dragons like a child peering out a car window, hoping for a glimpse of something impossible.
The flying sequences, in particular, are works of art. If cinema had scent and touch, you’d feel the wind, smell the salt spray. DreamWorks has always been good, but this time they surpassed themselves.
A Story That Knows How to Say Goodbye
This chapter isn’t just another adventure. It’s about moving on, about legacy, about the ache of growing older without leaving behind the things that made you dream in the first place. Hiccup is no longer a boy chasing acceptance — he’s a leader, carrying the burden of his people’s future. His bond with Toothless remains as moving as ever, but it evolves, ripened by age and loss.
And I appreciated that. Some tales grow with you, and this one has aged gracefully, without ever losing its heart.
As I stepped out of the cinema, I half-expected to hear wings overhead. I didn’t, but the movie did something almost as good — it reminded me to keep looking up. To keep believing that even in a world of deadlines and inboxes, there’s room for dragons.
If you, like me, are someone who still scans the horizon for a flicker of wings, this film isn’t just a recommendation — it’s a necessity.
So here’s to old friends, impossible creatures, and stories that never stop flying.
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