Tag Archives: Mason Thames

Fire in the Sky

How to Train Your Dragon

by Hope Madden

If it weren’t for Toy Story, How to Train Your Dragon would be remembered as the finest animated trilogy ever made. The tale of outsider love, parental expectations, physical limitations and dragons was as emotionally satisfying as it was visually stunning. So, it was both disappointing and inevitable to learn that it would be given the live-action treatment.

Dean DeBlois, co-writer and co-director of the animated features, returns with a surprisingly game adaptation.

Mason Thames is Hiccup, the puny, brainy son of Viking chieftain Stoick the Vast (Gerard Butler, reprising his role from the animated series). A disappointment as a Viking, Hiccup eventually finds that his weakness (empathy) is, indeed, his greatest strength. Next, to convince the thick-headed Vikings that the dragons they fight and fear are really, really cool.

And they are cool.

Hiccup’s new bestie, Toothless—the last of the Night Furies—is as beautifully, charmingly, mischievously feline as fans of the original remember. Wisely, DeBlois and team lean the balance of dragons more toward live action. They’re detailed and intimidating—decidedly less kid-friendly than their animated counterparts. One of them is always on fire, which is badass.

The ragtag gang of Vikings-in-training (Julian Dennison, Bronwyn James, Harry Trevaldwyn, and Gabriel Howell) endear and amuse. Likewise, Nick Frost cuts a fun, comical figure as wizened old Gobber, Viking trainer.

Butler, who brought power and pathos to the cartoon, is perhaps even more effective in the flesh (though under pounds of makeup and prosthetics). His confused affection, misdirected pride and aching tenderness lend real humanity to the tale.

Too bad the leads can’t muster the same. Thames and Nico Parker, as Hiccup’s rival/love interest Astrid, share no real chemistry. Parker lacks the fire the role calls for, and Thames can’t mine his fish-out-of-water moments for comedy.

DuBlois also inexplicably cuts the legs from under the original film’s all-is-lost moment, rushing to emotional safety and limiting the power of the film’s breathless climax.

But whatever its flaws, once How to Train Your Dragon is airborne, it’s pure cinema. DuBlois takes to the skies with an untamed wonder that makes the ride both real and magical. Though it may not be the masterpiece of its animated predecessor, this live action dragon adventure is a worthwhile trip.

Call Me Maybe

The Black Phone

by Hope Madden

It can be tough to turn a short story into a feature-length film. Filmmakers wind up padding, adding needless plotlines, losing the pointed nature of the short. And Joe Hill’s story The Black Phone is short and to the point. It’s vivid and spooky, and it plays on that line between the grotesque and the entertaining that marks children’s lives.

Director Scott Derrickson (Sinister, Dr. Strange), adapting Hill’s story with longtime writing collaborator C. Robert Cargill, has his work cut out for him.

The first thing he does is change up the villain, which is generally a terrible idea. It works out well here, though, because Ethan Hawke and his terrifying assortment of masks are the stuff of nightmares.

Hawke plays The Grabber. With his top hat, black balloons and big black van, he’s managed to lure and snatch a number of young boys from a small Colorado town. Finney (Mason Thames) is his latest victim, and for most of the film Finney waits for his punishment down a locked cement basement.

Not much else down there besides a filthy mattress and an old, disconnected rotary phone.

Derrickson does stretch the tale with the kind of secondary plot you might find in one of Hill’s dad Stephen King’s books. Back at home, wearing a yellow slicker and rain boots, Finney’s little sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw) dreams of the missing boys. Her dreams are so accurate they draw the interest of local police.

This is not the film’s strongest element, but it doesn’t play too poorly, either. Derrickson understands that a film’s hero needs some backstory, some arc to make their journey meaningful. He gets heavy-handed with Finney’s family drama, but he doesn’t overwhelm the primary creepiness with it. And he links the two storylines together smoothly with a shared bit of the supernatural.

The phone.

Time period detail sets a spooky mood and Derrickson has fun with soundtrack choices. But the film’s success—its creepy, affecting success—is Hawke. The actor weaves in and out of different postures, tones of voice, movements. He’s about eight different kinds of creepy, every one of them aided immeasurably by its variation on that mask.

Derrickson hasn’t reinvented the genre. But, with solid source material and one inspired performance, he’s crafted a gem of a horror movie.