Showing posts with label Djimon Hounsou. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Djimon Hounsou. Show all posts

Friday, June 28, 2024

A Quiet Place: Day One — A solid prequel

A Quiet Place: Day One (2024) • View trailer
Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for terror, violent content and disturbing images
Available via: Movie theaters

This film totally confounds expectations.

 

That’s wholly appropriate, since “startling” has been the hallmark of this sharply conceived series. These scripts have teeth ... and not just those belonging to the nightmarish predators that strike victims making the slightest sound. John Krasinski has co-written and co-produced all three, and he directed the first two; he and his co-writers don’t hesitate to surprise and upset viewers.

 

Moving as quickly as possible — without making any noise! — Eric (Joseph Quinn) and
Sam (Lupita Nyong'o) cross an open street while searching for a safe place to hid.


Even so, this prequel moves in unexpected directions, in terms of both plot beats and emotional resonance. 

The setting is New York, roughly a year prior to the events in 2018’s first film. Things begin quietly, as Samira (Lupita Nyong’o) contemplates another dull, grinding day as a terminally ill cancer patient, in a hospice facility outside the city. She’s stuck at anger, in the five stages of grief ... or, perhaps, she settled on anger after dismissing bargaining and acceptance.

 

Her only friend is her service cat, Frodo, aka — as we’ll soon discover — The World’s Greatest And Most Resourceful Feline.

 

Reuben (Alex Wolff), her care nurse, is impressively patient; Sam, bitter and waspish, is unwilling to “play nice” during group sessions. An outing to Manhattan also holds no interest, until she makes Reuben promise that they’ll stop for pizza at Patsy’s, her long-ago favorite Harlem pizzaria.

 

Unfortunately, the outing is interrupted. Hundreds of massive, meteor-like objects crash into the city — and elsewhere, all over the world — and disgorge powerful, hostile extraterrestrials that attack without warning.

 

Fans of the series know that these creatures have an acute sense of hearing, but are blind and without a functional sense of smell. But the terrified Manhanttanites aren’t yet aware of this, and — with shocking rapidity — people are devoured in mid-scream, or when they slam open a car door, or drop anything ... or even cough or sneeze.

 

Director Michale Sarnoski — who co-wrote this script with Krasinski — doesn’t dwell on these attacks; the PG-13 rating is respected, with a lack of gore. But that doesn’t make the attacks any less terrifying, as victims are snatched out of cinematographer Pat Scola’s rat-a-tat framing shots, accompanied by heart-stopping blasts from Alexis Grapsas’ score.

 

The resulting blood trails also are sufficiently unsettling.

 

Sam is knocked unconscious during the initial chaos; she wakens inside a theater with Reuben and numerous other survivors. Her initial attempt to speak is muted by Henri (Djimon Hounsou), huddling with his family. She gets the point, and is relieved to find Frodo still at her side.

 

(Series fans with recognize Hounsou’s Henri from 2020’s A Quiet Place Part II.)

Wednesday, December 22, 2021

The King's Man: A royal good time!

The King's Man (2021) • View trailer
Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong, bloody violence, profanity and sexual candor
Available via: Movie theaters
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.24.21

Fans of this series are apt to be mighty surprised — happily, one hopes — by this third entry’s unexpected shift in tone and style.

 

En route to Russia in a private train, Orlando (Ralph Fiennes, far left) shares what he
knows about Grigori Rasputin, while, from left, Shola (Djimon Hounsou),
Conrad (Harris Dickinson) and Polly (Gemma Arterton) listen attentively.

Whereas 2014’s Kingsman: The Secret Service and 2017’s Kingsman: Golden Circle are deranged, profane and gleefully over-the-top comic book burlesques, this new entry is only mildly naughty. It’s more accurately a sly bit of alternate history, with director/co-scripter Matthew Vaughn — and co-writer Karl Gajdusek — setting their cheeky Kingsman origin story against the very real horrors of World War I.

The tone is more akin to a Golden Age classic such as 1939’s Gunga Din … albeit with dollops of 21st century hyper-violence.

 

Key events are rigorously accurate: from the triggering assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which set the Triple Alliance (Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy) against the Triple Entente (France, Russia and Britain); to the ghastly horrors of trench warfare that claimed the lives of an estimated 9 million soldiers.

 

Other films have depicted the latter more authentically — director Sam Mendes’ 1917 immediately comes to mind — but Vaughn, Gajdusek and production designer Darren Gilford convincingly establish a similarly grim tableau. One sequence, achieved with some clever CGI, is particularly effective: a bit of time-lapse legerdemain that reveals the impact of two years’ of war, as a pastoral Western European landscape transforms into a barren wasteland laden with mutilated corpses.

 

But this comes a bit later. The conceit of Vaughn and Gajdusek’s script is that this nation-shattering abattoir was orchestrated clandestinely, behind the scenes, by a nefarious cabal whose many members include Russia’s mad monk, Grigori Rasputin (Rhys Ifans). Their leader, known only as The Shepherd — he remains unseen, as with the early 1960s machinations of James Bond’s Ernst Stavro Blofeld — is motivated by an enraged hatred of England, for its centuries-old repression of Scotland.

 

Meanwhile…

 

Following a brief 1902 prologue set during South Africa’s Boer War, during which we meet Orlando, the Duke of Oxford (Ralph Fiennes), and his young son Conrad (Alexander Shaw), the story flashes forward a dozen years. Fiennes excels at this sort of refined, crisply authoritative figure; Orlando is unapologetically aristocratic but also mindful of his station, and the need to behave honorably for the common good.

 

As a result of events during that prologue, he’s also a devoted pacifist: a philosophy that increasingly puts him at odds with the impetuous Conrad (now played by Harris Dickinson), who — like so many young men of his era — wishes to prove his bravery in “glorious battle.”

Friday, November 15, 2019

Charlie's Angels: Clip their wings. Please.

Charlie's Angels (2019) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for violence, profanity and suggestive content

By Derrick Bang

Director/co-scripter Elizabeth Banks deserves congratulations, of a sort: She has appropriately honored this franchise.

Which is to say, this film is every bit as dumb, dull and contrived as the late 1970s TV series on which it’s based.

Having tracked the bad guys to an industrial rock quarry, the resourceful Angel
operatives ‚ from left, Jane (Ella Balinska), Sabina (Kristen Stewart) and Elena (Naomi
Scott) — ponder their next move.
Oh, sure; the insufferable sexism has been upgraded (somewhat) to bad-ass gal power, but that’s not much of an improvement … particularly since this updated Charlie’s Angels still finds ample opportunity to pour its three stars into skin-tight outfits. (A third-act dance sequence is particularly eye-rolling.) Costume designer Kym Barrett certainly is kept busy, particularly with glitzy tube dresses.

Mostly, though, Banks has simply proven that she can deliver an action thriller every bit as mindless as those featuring male stars in equally ludicrous predicaments. Although her story — co-written with Evan Spiliotopoulos and David Auburn — ostensibly is fueled by the desperate effort to Keep A Nasty Device Out Of The Wrong Hands, it’s little more than an excuse for an increasingly tiresome series of chases, melees, absurdly drawn-out smackdowns and the usual physics-defying stunt work.

Most of the performances rarely rise above the smug and smirk that too frequently passes for “acting” in live-action comic books of this sort, and occasional efforts at more serious emoting — as when we lose a good guy, early on — are wincingly awful. The one exception is Kristen Stewart, whose sass and snark are a breath of fresh air. I can’t say she carries the film — that would be impossible — but she certainly makes it more bearable.

Having moved further into the 21st century, the Townsend Agency has expanded from its Southern California roots, with clandestine pockets of high-tech Angels now operating world-wide. A prologue escapade introduces the resourceful and athletic talents of Sabina (Stewart) and Jane (Ella Balinska), as they take down wealthy international criminal Johnny Smith (Chris Pang, suitably smarmy).

Meanwhile, back at the Townsend Agency, veteran Bosley (Patrick Stewart) is feted with a retirement party, having been instrumental in taking the Angels global during the past decades. He’s congratulated by his replacement Bosley (Banks) — the name being more of a company rank, like lieutenant — with other Bosleys wishing him well via international video links.

Friday, April 5, 2019

Shazam!: Power failure

Shazam! (2019) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated PG-13, and quite generously, for scary fantasy violence, intense action and relentless mental cruelty

By Derrick Bang

There’s an old parable about three blind men encountering an elephant for the first time.

“It’s a snake,” says the first, having felt the trunk.

With the eager help of Freddy (Jack Dylan Grazer, left), who imaginatively suggests a
series of potential powers, the newly christened Shazam (Zachary Levi) discovers
that — among other things — he can shoot powerful lightning bolts from his fingers.
“No, it’s a spear,” opines the second, awed by the long, sharp tusk.

“It’s definitely a tree,” insists the third, unable to wrap his arms around one of the huge legs.

Scripters Henry Gayden and Darren Lemke — and, I’m certain, a sizable number of uncredited “sweeteners” — are the blind men, and this film is their elephant.

Shazam! feels like it was “written” by half a dozen people — one of whom is a sadist — working independent of each other. Apparently the resulting pages then were jammed together randomly, with no attempt to integrate tone, characterization or (God forbid) plot continuity.

And, hey presto! That’s how you get a movie as inept, haphazard and insufferably stupid as this one.

Newbie horror director David F. Sandberg (Lights OutAnnabelle: Creation) brings nothing to the party, and how could he? He has no meaningful template, from which to construct anything remotely artistic.

This Frankenstein’s monster of a flick is best described as Big (the 1988 Tom Hanks comedy) meets television’s Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, with the intelligence of the latter. Adults are advised to steer well clear, and I’m pretty sure even children will curl their lips with disgust.

When superhero movies go bad, they go very bad.

You’d think Warner Bros. would have learned, after 2011’s equally atrocious handling of Green Lantern, that the “Oh, wow; aren’t these powers cool?!” approach to these stories doesn’t work. At all.

Mind you, there’s nothing wrong with humor; indeed, a certain degree of smirky self-awareness is essential. But too much disrespects the nobility of these modern mythic characters, who (for the most part) deserve a measure of reverence. They’re not cartoons.

Gayden and Lemke treat this character — who dates back to 1939 (!) — as if he were a 5-minute Saturday Night Live sketch. Trouble is, this film runs a butt-numbing 132 minutes.

Friday, March 8, 2019

Captain Marvel: Well titled!

Captain Marvel (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action and violence

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.8.19

Carol Danvers has endured more trauma, conflicting origin stories, alternate identities and just plain mean-spirited punishment than any other Marvel Comics character, likely because several generations’ worth of (mostly male) writers didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with a heroine who’d been created in the mid-1970s, as little more than a sop to the feminist movement.

Having traveled to Louisiana in search of Maria (Lashana Lynch, left), the friend who believed
her long dead, Vers (Brie Larson) finally begins to stitch jumbled memories into a coherent past.
All that finally changed in 2012, with the arrival of writer Kelly Sue DeConnick, who alongside artist Dexter Soy orchestrated a new series that firmly established Danvers’ Captain Marvel as a worthy figure in the Marvel universe.

And as an individual who can hold her own against heavyweight colleagues such as Thor and the Hulk.

That Carol Danvers has been granted similar respect by co-writer/directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck in the newest — and thoroughly enjoyable — entry in the meticulously crafted Marvel film universe. Captain Marvel manages the delicate balance of interpersonal angst, kick-ass action and whimsical snark, without succumbing to either slapstick self-parody or tedious cataclysmic excess (the latter a serious problem in many superhero films).

Credit also goes to Brie Larson, for her thoroughly engaging portrayal of a character who is equal parts pluck, resolve, intelligence, humor and (so it would seem) reckless stubbornness.

The result is just as entertaining as 2017’s Wonder Woman, which proves anew how much more satisfying the result can be — dare I say it? — with a woman playing a key role in the filmmaking process.

(Boden and Fleck have worked together since the turn of this century, initially on short subjects and documentaries, and later on features such as Half Nelson and Sugar.)

Panicked viewers who choked on their popcorn, while watching so many of their beloved heroes vanish in puffs of smoke at the conclusion of last year’s Avengers: Infinity War, may have wondered about that gadget Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury activated before he, too, faded away. This film answers that question, while also bringing two long-established sets of Marvel’s cosmic players — the Kree and Skrulls — into the film franchise.

This is an origin story with multiple interwoven layers, thanks to a cleverly structured plot by Boden, Fleck and co-writers Geneva Robertson-Dworet (Tomb Raider) and Nicole Perlman (Guardians of the Galaxy). They keep us guessing during a complicated narrative that never becomes hard to follow, despite several unexpected twists.

Friday, May 12, 2017

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword — A cut below

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated PG-13, for fantasy action and violence, and brief profanity

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.12.17

British director Guy Ritchie has spent the last decade putting his breakneck, heavily stylized spin on pop-culture icons, with diminishing results.

His two takes on Sherlock Holmes were mostly fun, thanks to the sassy pairing of Robert Downey Jr. (Holmes) and Jude Law (Watson); the re-boot of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. ... less so.

The mysterious Mage (Astrid Bergès-Frisbey) watches as Arthur (Charlie Hunnam)
contemplates the powerful sword Excalibur, which unleashes ghastly memories every
time he places both hands on its hilt.
Which brings us to this re-imagined Arthur Pendragon, Camelot and Excalibur: pretty much the only elements of traditional Arthurian legend that have survived in this senses-assaulting treatment by Ritchie and co-scripters David Dobkin, Joby Harold and Lionel Wigram. Their medieval adventure kicks off with a reasonably compelling first act, as the saga’s major players are introduced, but soon goes off the rails and ultimately succumbs to wretched excess during the overwrought finale.

This is King Arthur by way of Lord of the Rings: a magic-laden fantasy that ultimately overpowers its puny mortal characters. When opponents can send mountain-size elephants and coliseum-size serpents against each other, it’s impossible to establish an emotional connection with anything or anybody; Ritchie and his fellow scribes don’t exercise enough care to give us reasonable rules or consistency.

It’s all stuff and nonsense ... and, in Ritchie’s hands, hyper-accelerated and very loud stuff and nonsense.

The film opens with an explosive prologue, the malevolent wizard Mordred having lain waste to nearly all of England. Only well-fortified Camelot remains, but 300-foot siege elephants are poised to make short work of its walls. It’s an awesome sequence, orchestrated with breathtaking verisimilitude by visual effects supervisor Nick Davis, and ferociously paced by Ritchie and editor James Herbert.

All seems lost, but wait! The honorable King Uther Pendragon (Eric Bana) wields the mighty sword Excalibur, which instantaneously turns the tide. (Handy, that.)

Alas, in the aftermath, Uther fails to perceive the perfidy within; his brother Vortigern (Jude Law), secretly coveting the crown, unleashes his own vile magic. (Really, you’d think that Uther would have known that a brother given the name Vortigern couldn’t be anything but evil.)

The king and his wife perish, but not before sending their young son Arthur to safety in a boat: an oft-employed plot point that dates from Moses to Luke Skywalker, by way of Krypton’s Kal-El.

Friday, July 1, 2016

The Legend of Tarzan: The original jungle swinger is back!

The Legend of Tarzan (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, violent action and mild sensuality

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.3.16


The original Tarzan franchise ran an impressive five decades, starting during the silent era and continuing through the late 1960s, when Edgar Rice Burroughs’ famed character finally was silenced by the James Bond-influenced spy movie craze (which the final few Tarzan films attempted to emulate, with predictably awful results).

Having just returned to the African Congo that was his childhood home, John Clayton
(Alexander Skarsgård, right) and his wife Jane (Margot Robbie) take in long-unseen
familiar sights, while their new companion George Washington Williams (Samuel L.
Jackson) wonders what he's getting into.
No doubt hoping to revive what once had been a great thing, Hollywood subsequently mounted a fresh Tarzan roughly once per generation, with little success. Robert Towne’s highly anticipated Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, with Christopher Lambert in the title role, wound up seriously compromised by behind-the-scenes squabbling, and died an ignominious death upon its 1984 release.

Even so, that was a better fate than that suffered by 1998’s dreadful Tarzan and the Lost City, Casper Van Dien’s stint in the loincloth not even a blip on the cinematic radar. Indeed, were it not for Disney’s wildly successful 1999 animated feature, I’m not sure the character would resonate in this 21st century, aside from the ongoing devotion shown by Burroughs fans.

How ironic, then — how pleasantly ironic — that just when the regal jungle lord seemed doomed to extinction, a fresh team has delivered a truly majestic Tarzan film.

We’ve not seen an entry this entertaining since Gordon Scott’s terrific double-header of Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure and Tarzan the Magnificent, back in 1959 and ’60.

Scripters Adam Cozad and Craig Brewer managed a truly impressive balancing act. On the one hand, they’ve faithfully honored the Burroughs template, acknowledging John Clayton as a feral child who grew up in the African wild, but later reclaimed his British roots as the fifth Earl of Greystoke, and a member of the English House of Lords. He’s a deeply moral and perceptively intelligent man (as greatly opposed to the monosyllabic dummy Johnny Weissmüller made him, in so many early films)

At the same time, Cozad and Brewer have addressed contemporary sensibilities, granting John and his wife Jane the enlightened awareness to recognize — and repudiate — the heinous late 19th century imperialism that arrogantly (and arbitrarily) “divided” great swaths of Africa between various European monarchs, who subsequently subjugated and/or enslaved the resident populations.

All that aside, this film also succeeds as an exhilarating adventure that pits the remarkable jungle lord against overwhelming odds orchestrated by a hissably evil villain. Everything builds to a (literally) smashing climax, which drew more than a few enthusiastic cheers from Monday evening’s preview audience.

This is a Tarzan to admire.

Friday, August 1, 2014

Guardians of the Galaxy: Droll sci-fi hijinks

Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for intense sci-fi action and violence, and brief profanity

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.1.14


Call this one Marvel Lite.

The newest chapter in this comics-to-film universe has the playful atmosphere of Josh Whedon’s Firefly or George Lucas’ Star Wars saga, complete with a group of rag-tag sorta-heroes led by a tousled, good ol’ boy who feels like a blend between Han Solo and Indiana Jones. Although Earth-based to one significant degree, most of the action takes place in a galaxy far, far away, with a looming threat to an entire planet and its sizable population.

When it comes time to bust out of a celestial prison, our misfit heroes — clockwise from top
left, Quill (Chris Pratt), Groot, Drax (Dave Bautista), Gamora (Zoe Saldana) and Rocket
Raccoon — reluctantly set aside interpersonal squabbles in order to work together. Note,
however, that working together successfully is an entirely different matter...
But the danger lies not from a Death Star-like weapon, but instead from a supremely powerful alien entity known only as Thanos, who likely will be watching next summer, when Iron Man, Captain America and the rest of the Avengers battle a Big Bad dubbed Ultron.

Meanwhile, the formidable Thanos serves here as puppet master, sending malevolent minions to do his bidding. Which they do, with cheerfully evil glee.

But that’s getting ahead of things; we first must submit to necessary back-story courtesy of scripters James Gunn (who also directs) and Nicole Perlman, who have a good sense of the scruffy, well-worn universe concocted in the 2008 comic book series by Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning. Gunn and Perlman haven’t used quite all of the characters employed by Abnett and Lanning in their misfit not-quite-a-team, but the quintet on hand here certainly satisfies.

Things begin with Earth-born Peter Quill (Chris Pratt), whose presence in these distant reaches of the universe remains a mystery for another time (and the obligatory sequel). Quill, a smuggler and thief, conducts his heists while hoppin’ and boppin’ to a carefully preserved mix tape of “awesome hits” made by his mother, back before she died, and played on his carefully preserved Walkman. (Cue the first of this soundtrack’s many 1970s and ’80s rockers and power anthems. You’ll want the soundtrack.)

Quill’s current contract takes him to the dead and deserted planet of Morag, where he finds a strange metal orb also coveted by Korath (Djimon Hounsou), an associate of Ronan (Lee Pace), hired by the aforementioned Thanos. The fast-talking Quill manages to escape with his prize, only to irritate both his own boss — the blue-skinned Yondu Udonta (Michael Rooker) — and the green-skinned assassin Gamora (Zoe Saldana), another of Ronan’s emissaries, who tries to snatch the orb herself.

This skirmish takes place on the sumptuous, impeccably civilized world of Xandar, where bounty hunters Rocket and Groot are just as eager to catch Quill and collect the reward on his head. Unfortunately, the escalating fracas results in all four being arrested and sent to a massive space prison known as the Kyln.

Relations between our protagonists are tense at best. The hot-tempered Rocket — a genetically altered, cybernetically enhanced talking raccoon — wants nothing to do with these two-legged beings, unless a reward is involved; Quill just wants to escape with the orb, while Gamora has her own plans for that same device. Worse yet, The Kyln’s many prisoners include Drax (wrestling star Dave Bautista), a quiet but massive brute who blames Ronan for the death of his wife and child, and therefore yearns to rip Gamora to shreds, simply for being in the villain’s employ.

Ah, but is she actually in Ronan’s service? In truth, Gamora may have redemptive plans of her own.

Friday, June 13, 2014

How to Train Your Dragon 2: Not as much spark

How to Train Your Dragon 2 (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, and needlessly, for fantasy action and mild rude humor

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.13.14


Catching dragon-discharged lightning in a bottle is hard enough just once; expecting to replicate such a feat is darn near impossible.

Although Hiccup's father wants him to assume the role of village chief, the young Viking
would much rather explore distant lands astride his beloved dragon, Toothless.
Unfortunately, one of those journeys reveals a very, very nasty villain who'd love to
destroy Hiccup and everybody else in his village.
2010’s How to Train Your Dragon was, to my taste, a perfect film: a clever and luxurious expansion of the first of Cressida Cowell’s series of children’s novels, with an engaging blend of well structured characters, rich vocal talent and — most crucially — a plot that focused quietly on a boy and his rather unusual “dog,” then built to a suspenseful, exciting and unexpectedly poignant conclusion.

One could not help being touched, as well, by the authentic behavior granted Toothless, our young hero’s rare Night Fury dragon: the ever-watchful gaze, the playful curiosity, the protective instincts and the pet-like eagerness to please. The animators did a rare and wondrous thing, by concocting an animated creature — and a mythical one, at that — far more lifelike than any others brought to the big screen, dating all the way back to the gentle woodland critters of 1937’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

All of which gave director/scripter Dean DeBlois very large reptilian shoes to fill, with this long-awaited sequel.

We can be saddened, then — although likely not surprised — that Dragon 2 doesn’t live up to its predecessor. DeBlois screwed up the formula, and he has nobody to blame but himself.

1992’s Home Alone 2 remains the textbook case of ill-advised sophomore slump. In an astonishing example of short-sightedness, everybody assumed that the key to success lay in enhancing the slapstick nonsense involving the “wet bandits” who bedeviled little Kevin McCallister, thereby overlooking all the poignant, gently tender kid-on-his-own moments that made the original’s high-comedy final act so funny in contrast. The sequel, essentially nothing but burlesque, fell completely flat.

Successful tone and pacing derive from highs and lows: a balance between the many, many elements that combine to produce an engaging narrative. As my grandmother often warned, not even ice cream sundaes could withstand becoming a steady diet; all too quickly, they’d become bland. And even, well, boring.

That’s more or less what has happened, with Dragon 2. As for why, I’m always suspicious when a filmmaker’s colleagues get jettisoned en route to a sequel. On the first Dragon, DeBlois shared directing and scripting credit with Chris Sanders (Lilo & Stitch, The Croods), with additional writing assists from William Davies and Adam F. Goldberg. Collaboratively, they fashioned a heartwarming tale that was long on interactions between our misfit Viking hero, Hiccup, and his gruff father, Stoick; along with Hiccup’s unlikely attraction to young Viking goddess Astrid; and of course the highs and lows that accompanied Hiccup’s efforts to win the trust of the wild, wounded Toothless.

Then, and only then, did that first film pull out all the stops for its exciting third act.