Russian President Vladimir Putin won't be welcoming Western companies back to Russia.
Gavriil Grigorov/Sputnik/AP
Russian firms that took over Western brands after the Ukraine invasion oppose their rivals' return.
Many Western firms sold their operations with buyback deals after the 2022 invasion.
A new law could cancel the buyback deals, locking foreign companies out of Russia for good.
Russian businesses that took over brands like McDonald's, Heinz, and Kellogg's after the invasion of Ukraine are now lobbying hard to make sure those Western companies can't come back — and the Kremlin is backing them up.
Speaking at a Kremlin business meeting with President Vladimir Putin late last month, CEO Oleg Paroev said a McDonald's comeback would undo years of work to develop the Russian brand.
"We created our own IT systems, our own kitchen equipment, our own innovations — and if the brand returns, all of that becomes foreign again," he said. "The work of our Russian partners would, to some extent, be in vain."
Putin responded with a pointed joke: "Only cowards pay their debts. It's the same here."
New law in the works
Days before the Kremlin meeting, Russian MPs advanced legislation that would make it harder — or even impossible — for Western companies to reclaim the operations they abandoned.
More than three years into the war in Ukraine, almost 500 foreign firms have exited the Russian market entirely, according to the Kyiv School of Economics' Leave Russia database.
The new bill would give authorities the power to cancel those agreements, especially if the repurchase price was now below market value.
The legislation would formalize the Kremlin's broader effort to permanently lock out foreign firms and protect Russian companies.
It would also "undermine the rule of law and reinforce investor fears that Russian markets are not just high-risk but fundamentally unstable and arbitrary," said Roman Sheremeta, an associate professor of economics at Case Western Reserve University's Weatherhead School of Management.
"Any Western company understands that the long-term risks are huge," he told Business Insider.
The legislation is expected to be voted on later this year.
Who's pushing back hardest?
The loudest support for the bill comes from the Russian firms that replaced global brands — and now profit from their absence.
Vkusno i tochka's owner, Alexander Govor, bought McDonald's entire Russian operation after the US giant exited Russia in 2022.
The chain says it now has about 930 outlets serving 2 million customers daily, and generated 187 billion rubles ($2.4 billion) in revenue in 2024 — more than double what McDonald's made in its final year in Russia.
CEO Paroev said last month the company had to start from scratch, with no packaging, kitchen equipment, or supply chain.
"Our idea is to create a technology hub that will produce this equipment not only for us, but, in fact, for the entire Russian public catering market," he told Putin.
Paroev may not have too much to worry about, given that McDonald's told the Ukrainian advocacy group B4UKraine Coalition earlier this year it had no plans to return to Russia.
Russian President Vladimir Putin meets with Russian business leaders at the Kremlin last month.
Grigory Sysoyev/Sputnik/AP
Other bosses made similar protectionist calls at the summit. Stanislav Yodkovsky, CEO of IVA Technologies, a Russian videoconferencing and communication firm, pushed for new import duties and restrictions on foreign tech firms such as Zoom and Microsoft.
Maria Gekht, CEO of Rusido, a Russian seed company, urged the Kremlin to maintain curbs on Western seed imports to help local producers scale up.
Protectionism or stagnation?
The Kremlin has touted Russia's pivot to import substitution — replacing Western goods with domestic ones — as a growth strategy.
"Companies like Vkusno i tochka may report short-term gains, but their success is largely due to a monopoly-like environment created by the absence of foreign competitors," Sheremeta said. "This is not innovation — it's insulation."
McDonald's sold its 850 restaurants to a Russian franchisee owner in 2022.
"In Russia's case, it is leading to inefficiency, technological stagnation, and increased dependence on state subsidies," Sheremeta said.
"Long-term, this model carries significant risks: economic isolation, capital flight, brain drain, and a sustained loss of credibility with global investors."
The Kremlin is all in
The Kremlin's support for trying to lock out Western companies is political as well as economic.
"The war, sanctions, countersanctions, and the reorientation to a war economy have all contributed to a shift back in time — to less market mechanisms and more government intervention," Anders Olofsgard, deputy director at the Stockholm Institute of Transition Economics, told BI.
That shift, he said, has tightened the dependence of businesses on the Kremlin's goodwill — and incentivized them to lobby for even greater protection.
And Russian politicians haven't minced their words.
"We are not waiting for anyone with open arms. There will be a price to pay for past decisions," industry and trade minister Anton Alikhanov said in February, state news agency TASS reported.
Dmitry Medvedev, the deputy chairman of Russia's security council, echoed that warning in March, saying a return would be "difficult" but that no foreign firm had sought to do so.
Even as the Trump administration has been seeking a Ukraine cease-fire deal with Moscow, spurring discussions about a return of Western businesses to Russia, Putin doubled down on that stance last month.
"They put everyone in a difficult situation, ran away," he said of Western brands' exit from Russia. "And now, if they want to come back, should we lay the path for them? Of course not."
Jacqueline Kline was a proud overachiever in college. She enrolled in a packed class schedule, attended campus networking events, landed an impressive slate of internships, and graduated cum laude from Florida State University.
Then, after her 2023 graduation celebrations wound down, Kline found herself back in her childhood bedroom. Over the next year, she applied to hundreds of communications and media jobs between babysitting shifts. The responses were deflating: Some companies sent quick rejections, others turned her away after a couple of interviews, but most simply ghosted her.
"I graduated, but I didn't feel successful," the now 24-year-old told me. "I had this degree — and that's a privilege, not everyone has that opportunity — but it didn't matter. My GPA didn't matter. None of it mattered if I didn't have a job."
It's a tough time to look for work. For 20-somethings, breaking into the market is particularly daunting. Companies and consumers are bracing for an economic slowdown, and employees are hesitant to leave their current gigs. Federal policy uncertainty is spooking businesses, and white-collar industries are not the safe career bets they used to be.
The tried-and-true ways that young people used to climb the economic ladder are disappearing, and AI is threatening to replace entry-level work in enviable fields like tech. President Donald Trump's cost-cutting efforts have wiped out jobs in government agencies, nonprofits, and public health. Law school applications are ballooning beyond what the industry can sustain, and humanitarian routes like AmeriCorps and the Peace Corps are among the White House DOGE office's latest targets. It all leaves young people — even those who spent their teen and university years positioning themselves for the future — barreling toward a career cliff.
So, what's an ambitious Gen Zer to do?
Kline is finishing her second year of graduate school at FSU. She said she gave up looking for full-time work because "the burnout was definitely real" and decided to take out student loans to pursue her master's. Many of her friends are also facing tough decisions: Commit to a tall stack of job applications, go back to get another degree, or settle for a role outside their chosen field. Each option feels risky.
Young adulthood has long been a weird phase of life: Grads often navigate new cities, new relationships, new jobs, and tenuous financial independence. (I write this as a recent college graduate in my 20s.) Still, the combination of a tough job market and emerging technologies means today's graduates face an increasingly bleak set of circumstances.
As Richard Mansfield, an economics professor at the University of Colorado Boulder, put it, Gen Z has "a whole lot of clouds on the horizon." Based on the Federal Reserve Bank of New York's analysis of census data, 41.2% of graduates in their early and mid-20s were underemployed in March, meaning they were working jobs that don't typically require a bachelor's degree. That's up from 38.9% in December. And Ivy alums aren't immune: In January, The Wall Street Journal reported that job placement at more than a dozen top MBA programs was the worst "in recent memory" last year. Notably, Harvard told the Journal that 23% of its job-seeking MBAs who graduated in spring 2024 were still looking for work three months after leaving campus, a figure that was up from 20% in the prior year and more than double what it was in 2022. Higher education may be known for its historical role as a path to prestige and higher pay, but Gen Zers are wondering whether it's worth it anymore.
Bella Babbitt, 21, graduated a year early from a private New York liberal arts school with a dual degree in business and sociology in 2024. She hoped her internships and the fact that she completed her bachelor's in just three years would help her to land a role in media strategy and to eventually start her own business. She spent a year applying to hundreds of roles without luck while taking on odd jobs to make money, such as waiting tables and delivering food. More recently, she's worked at a marketing firm owned by a family friend. She "truly believes" the reason she's employed is because of that personal connection.
"I was applying and I felt like, 'This is so stupid because I know I'm going to get rejected,'" she said, adding, "My parents have such a different mindset, where they can't comprehend how we've applied to all these jobs and we're not getting anything."
Historically reliable prestige jobs are facing challenges, too. In tech, hopeful grads are being boxed out of entry-level positions not only by AI, but also by hiring freezes. In law, US firms' hiring of entry-level summer associates is hitting a historic low. Even "stopgap" roles that were stepping stones to bigger things are evaporating: From the start of 2023 to the start of 2025, internship postings on the college job-search platform Handshake declined by over 15%. When Gen Zers are ready to take the leap into a larger role, they're finding themselves stuck — young people can't fill desks because older generations are delaying plans to quit and retire, leaving new grads on the lower rung of the career ladder for longer.
It's leaving Abbey Owens discouraged. She graduated summa cum laude last month from a liberal arts college with a record of marketing internships, good grades, and a slew of unanswered applications. After months on the job hunt, the 21-year-old said she's thinking about bartending and losing hope of finding a role in her field: "I'll accept almost anything," she told me.
Babbitt and Owens describe the pain of continuous rejection — a stream of "no's" that drags on for months or years, application after application. Their experience is a symptom of a landscape with a dwindling number of job postings and lower hiring rates. One in five job seekers is considered long-term unemployed, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, meaning they've been out of work for 27 weeks or longer.
Even Gen Zers who are trying to follow their passions into less pressure-packed jobs than finance and tech are facing tough times. Young people dedicated to public service or academia, where there is an implicit exchange of stability in place of bigger salaries, are staring at an uncertain road.
A 21-year-old University of Maryland student (who asked not to be named for fear of career retaliation) told me they'd lost two roles because of federal government cuts. This spring, they were interning at the Transportation Security Administration before being let go after DOGE prompted cuts of the agency's remote work contracts. Their summer internship — a coveted role at an intelligence agency — was canceled the following week.
"I think it's just important for people to know how shocking all of this is," they said, adding, "There's a whole new wave of talented young individuals who are excited about public service who are being denied opportunities and thrown to the dirt."
Now, without a summer job, they're likely to stay in their hometown and scoop ice cream or take shifts at a coffee shop, they said. They have two years left at Maryland, and they're rethinking their dream of working in government.
Other public sector options aren't promising, either. As part of DOGE's work, federal agencies are under a hiring freeze, AmeriCorps is pausing programs, the Peace Corps is cutting staff, and federally funded roles at nonprofits, science labs, and public health centers are vanishing.
Amid the rising sense of doom, Mansfield cautions that the Zoomer labor market outlook is complicated — and economists don't yet have a full picture. Hard indicators show the economy is relatively healthy on paper: The US added a higher-than-expected number of jobs in May, inflation is getting under control, and the unemployment rate is low. Mansfield said that "the data hasn't caught up yet" to reflect the loss of entry-level opportunities that many new grads are experiencing.
"It's not as if we're running out of useful things for young, educated people to do," he said. "It's just that we're undermining our mechanisms for getting them there."
While Gen Z might seem headed toward a careerpocalypse, economists and labor market analysts told me the cruelest part was that this instability wasn't inevitable. Elise Gould, a senior economist at the Economic Policy Institute, said Gen Zers were almost set up for success. Gould's analysis of labor market data from May indicates that even after adjusting for inflation, 16- to 24-year-old workers experienced historically strong wage growth of 9.1% from February 2020 to March of this year, a figure that exceeded wage growth for workers 25 and older (5.4%). The cohort was set to have lower average unemployment rates and better job opportunities than every other set of young workers since the 1990s. But the rosy picture has rapidly worsened. Job prospects for 22- to 27-year-olds with a bachelor's degree or higher "deteriorated noticeably" in the first quarter of this year, per the New York Fed, and the recent-grad gap — the difference between the overall unemployment rate and the unemployment rate for people who recently graduated from college — just hit its widest point in at least 40 years.
It's worth noting that previous generations have faced tough labor markets: Some baby boomers launched their careers in the middle of the 1970s stagflation, and millennials were looking for jobs in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. But Gen Zers are seeing the start of a troubling trend. Educated Zoomers, specifically, are now more unemployed than the rest of America, something that didn't happen early in the pandemic, during the Great Recession, or in the midst of the dot-com crash.
"When the overall unemployment rate goes up a little bit more, I don't think people always understand that that is what happens: the 'last hired, first fired' phenomenon," Gould said, adding: "What are you going to do at that point? You've gone into debt going to school, you've already decided your major, you've already made all those investments. It's very hard to shift."
The economists I spoke with emphasized that there were solutions to the Gen Z career cliff, but things may get worse before they get better. Mansfield said some sectors, like caregiving and healthcare, could see increased labor demand as baby boomers and Gen Xers grow older — even if those opportunities aren't as attractive to people trained to do something else, like law or finance. He added that as AI becomes more integrated into the economy, Gen Zers and later generations will most likely start to find roles in careers that don't exist yet.
"I'm reminding myself that it will be worth it, taking all these loans will be worth it, because having this master's degree will get me further and give me a better chance at a job opportunity," Kline said, adding. "Before I came back to school, that was one of the loneliest times of my life."
Market conditions are changing how ambitious Gen Zers see themselves and their work. It isn't just about whether they can land a job after graduation. A lot of people my age feel that open doors older generations took for granted — having access to homeownership and retirement, affording kids or healthcare or further education — are being locked alongside our career paths. It's part of why young people are becoming less loyal to the grind, or giving up on traditionally white collar careers altogether.
It's also why Isabella Clemmens, 22, is betting on herself. After graduating from Oregon State in May, she's moving to Austin to try out a new city, meet friends, attend concerts, and try living on her own. When Clemmens and I spoke a few weeks ago, she was planning to work in retail until her growing stack of applications landed her a branding or graphic design role. After four years of hard work, she hadn't expected her job hunt to be so challenging. To kick off postgrad life in Texas, though, she would have to make concessions.
"My dream job might exist," she told me. "But I'm one of 400 people applying for it."
Allie Kellyis a reporter on Business Insider's Economy team. She writes about social safety nets and how policy affects people.
Cheryl Fellenz, 81, is happily retired on a houseboat in Maryland.
Photo Courtesy Cheryl Fellenz
Cheryl Fellenz, 81, swapped her home for a houseboat in 2009 to cut expenses.
Fellenz lives on $4,996 monthly from Social Security and a teacher's pension.
She said the houseboat gives her close access to nature and a sense of adventure in retirement.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Cheryl Fellenz, 81, a retiree who lives on a houseboat off the coast of southern Maryland. She isone of thousandsof older Americans who have shared their financial, career, and retirement stories with Business Insider. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
The idea of living on a houseboat felt like serendipity. I retired at 51 from my teaching career as a reading specialist. I had never been a boater or a boat captain or anything, but one day in 2009, a couple of friends were in my living room talking about this funky Washington DC boat yard down M Street. My spirit was attracted to that. When I drove down by the water and saw those boats at the marinas, I was like "oh, yeah, I'm doing this."
Soon after, I sold my house, paid off the mortgage, bought my houseboat in cash, and then started my adventure. It was right after the market crash, so I sold my house — which I had been living in for 15 years — at a loss, but I was able to buy the houseboat for roughly $84,000. I knew the decision to move would cut my living expenses and I no longer have a mortgage.
Cheryl Fellenz, 81, swapped her home for a houseboat in 2009.
Photo Courtesy of Cheryl Fellenz
Lucky for me, if you have a pension, you don't even have to think about a 401(k). I don't have any savings, but my Social Security and teacher's pension add up to $4,996 a month, which is comfortable for me to live on. I keep an accounting book and I write down all my expenses — the fee to dock my houseboat is $275 a month, then I need to afford groceries and utilities. Praise God, I'm in excellent health. If something happens, I put it on my credit card, then I pay it off. I am disciplined with that.
I'm paying toward my next financial goal: to be totally debt free. Boats can have more expenses than houses sometimes. After I got settled here, I had to pay several thousand dollars to fix the roof, air conditioner, and electricity. I paid for those repairs with my credit cards, and I'm hoping to have it down to zero by the end of this year. Once that's done, I'll have an extra $2,000 a month of spending money.
The interior dining area of Fellenz's houseboat.
Photo Courtesy of Cheryl Fellenz
I live an alternative lifestyle. I don't have children and I'm not married. But I have my routine: I go to the gym, I fill up a few gallons of fresh water at a natural spring off Route 488, I cook on my hot plate or grill, and I run my errands. I also teach a few local children how to read. I don't charge the families anything, but it gives me a sense of purpose. Even though I'm at this later stage of my life, I still can say, "oh, I have something to do today."
I don't feel lonely. In my early years, I was the ultimate party girl. I loved to go to bars, listen to music, and go dancing. Now that I'm a little older, I wind it down a bit. I talk to friends, I go to social events held by my boating association, and I go once a week to a nearby jazz club. I would tell anyone planning to retire: be open to new experiences. Cultivate your imagination. Ask yourself: "Gee, where would I want to live? What's important to me?"
The houseboat has absolutely been an adventure for me. When I moved in all those years ago, the DC-area had a giant snowstorm. It was like a foot above my knees. I had to shovel the dock, about the length of a football field, but I felt so proud of myself. I felt so alive. I literally think living here keeps me young.
I'm happy with how my life is and the people in it. From my childhood, I've always loved nature. I see eagles, ospreys, gray and blue herons, and little turtles on the boat everyday. This is my dream come true.
An eagle Fellenz saw from the porch of her houseboat.
Photo Courtesy of Cheryl Fellenz
Do you have a story to share? If so, reach out to this reporter atallisonkelly@businessinsider.comor via Signal at alliekelly.10
President Donald Trump wants to cut 51% of HUD's overall budget and shrink the agency's workforce.
Andrew Harnik/Getty Images
HUD Secretary Scott Turner defended Trump's proposed 51% cut to the agency's budget.
But the secretary was light on details, and even some Republicans pressed him for more.
Major cuts to HUD come as the country remains mired in housing affordability challenges.
Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Scott Turner kept repeating the same phrases to Congress in defense of President Donald Trump's proposal to cut the agency's budget by 51%.
"It's time for a paradigm shift." "We have to refocus." "We want to be efficient and effective, not bloated and bureaucratic."
Democrats on House and Senate appropriations subcommittees were outraged — and even some Republicans were skeptical.
Turner was tasked with explaining what Trump's proposed $45 billion cut to HUD's funding would look like in practice. The agency would be among the hardest hit parts of the federal government under Trump's plan to eliminate $163 billion in federal spending.
"The goal here is not to serve less Americans. The goal here is to serve Americans better," Turner said during his testimony before the House subcommittee on Transportation, Housing, and Urban Development on June 10.
While Democratic lawmakers were particularly critical of Turner's approach and Trump's massive budget cut request, some Republicans also probed Turner for more detailed explanations he didn't provide. The hearings highlighted how the nation's major housing affordability challenges have become a bipartisan concern.
"The federal government doesn't have all the answers, and the budget empowers collaboration with states and localities," HUD spokesperson Kasey Lovett told Business Insider.
Few details, lots of frustration
During the House hearing, Republican Rep. David Joyce asked Turner how HUD plans to continue helping victims of disasters, like flooding and fires, if the agency slashes funding for the Community Development Block Grant — Disaster Recovery program, as the budget proposes. The agency has long helped FEMA rebuild homes destroyed in natural disasters that lack sufficient insurance, as well as repair roads and bridges.
In response, Turner insisted that HUD "will not allow disaster recovery and those that need assistance in disaster recovery to be lost on us" and that HUD is simply pursuing a "different way of distributing these funds."
Joyce, who represents Northeast Ohio, wasn't satisfied. "Thank you, sir, that was a great answer, but it didn't demonstrate a plan. Do you have a plan?" the congressman responded.
Turner ultimately conceded that the plan for supporting disaster victims "is forthcoming."
Joyce ended the exchange by warning that the agency has a role to play. "The one thing I know is, you're right. Disasters come. All over the country, disasters come. And you need to be ready for them."
Rep. Rutherford, a Florida Republican, pressed Turner on how states will help support homeownership in low-income communities when the president's budget proposes eliminating HUD's Self-Help Homeownership Opportunity Program (SHOP), a competitive grant program that Rutherford said has been successful in his district.
"Everywhere that homeownership went up, violent crime went down," said Rutherford, a former sheriff. "How are we going to address this issue if we're doing away with SHOP?"
Turner replied by saying that states can support homeownership programs if they see fit going forward, but didn't clarify where that funding would come from.
Spokespeople for Rutherford and Joyce didn't immediately return BI's requests for comment.
'People will die'
Democratic lawmakers expressed more direct frustration about the program cuts and lack of detail the secretary presented.
"People will die," Rep. Mike Quigley, an Illinois Democrat, told Turner of HUD's proposed cuts to homelessness services, including the elimination of the Housing for Persons with AIDS program. "If you just want to say we've got to cut these things because that's our plan, I'd respect you a lot more than telling us that you care about people as you put them on the street."
Turner replied that the agency isn't just cutting funding but is "going to be more effective and more efficient."
"How?" Quigley asked.
"It's a new paradigm. It's a new way to do things," Turner replied.
During Turner's testimony before the Senate on June 11, Democratic Sen. Brian Schatz, who's made housing a key priority, urged Turner to reinstate a bipartisan program Schatz championed that incentivizes states and localities to cut red tape that hampers housing construction.
"It's the most significant pro-housing deregulatory mechanism that we've passed," Schatz said.
Turner didn't answer Schatz's question on the eliminated program, and simply said he's encouraging local leaders to find ways to cut regulations.
But the president's budget isn't law. Government funding is set to run out in September, and Congress has the final say on what the federal budget looks like.
The House hearing concluded with the chairwoman, Republican Rep. Stephanie Bice, suggesting that Turner hasn't had enough time in the few months he's been in office to nail down more specifics about where HUD funding will go and how programs will be reformed.
"Is it safe to say that you have a framework for a plan that you want to move forward, but maybe not all of the nuts and bolts that you need to be able to present those details?" Bice asked Turner.
The couple paid $160,000 for a one-bedroom fixer-upper in the small town of Pomfret, Vermont; their mortgage payment is half of what they spent on rent for a studio apartment in Brooklyn. They felt the property, which came with 2.6 acres of land, was the perfect place for them to start a homestead and grow their family.
The slower pace of life in Vermont has been refreshing, even more so now that they have a toddler in tow. While they're "still exhausted" being young parents juggling work and family life, one thing's for sure, Tatum told Business Insider: "I just can't imagine how we'd pull it off in New York."
Census data released in October 2024 indicates that more than 481,500 people left New York for another state between 2022 and 2023, while just over 302,835 moved into New York from elsewhere in the US. The data comes from the American Community Survey, which includes responses to questions concerning moving patterns.
Between 2021 and 2022, about 545,600 people left New York, while 301,500 moved in. Between 2020 and 2022, New York City lost nearly half a million residents.
Unsurprisingly, New Jersey captured the second-most movers, with those who wanted a break from the city without having to travel too far. Others made much farther moves.
Florida had the most movers from New York, while Pennsylvania and California followed New Jersey. Texas and North Carolina also received a large number of New Yorkers.
Harrell and her husband rented a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn before buying a four-bedroom home in Raleigh with an extra 2,800 square feet. She told BI that her mortgage is less than what her rent was in New York.
"Overall, we've found that the cost of living is lower," she said. "Going out to eat or grabbing cocktails is significantly less expensive than it was in New York."
New York is expensive, but the benefits outweigh the cons for some
Over 31,000 people moved from California to New York between 2023 and 2024, while nearly 28,000 made the move from Pennsylvania. Florida, Massachusetts, and Texas also had large outflows into New York.
New Jersey took the top spot as the state losing residents to New York. California sent the second-most movers, and places like Pennsylvania, Florida, and Texas were behind.
A move from Tennessee to New York is an unexpected route, but for Lisa Miller, it was exactly what she needed.
Miller moved to Brooklyn from Knoxville, Tennessee, with her husband and three children.
She pays three times the amount of her mortgage in Tennessee, but she told BI that moving has been great for her children.
"The schools they've ended up in are incredible, and we feel a lot of support," she said. There's more focus on social-emotional development in New York than in Tennessee schools.
However, the city's reality didn't exactly meet her expectations. As a woman, she was constantly on high alert while walking along the sidewalks, which were also often littered with trash.
Although she was used to high rental prices in Los Angeles, she felt that her money didn't stretch as far in New York City. She ended up moving into a one-bedroom apartment in Hudson Yard with a roommate — and slept in the living room.
After five months, Broome moved back to LA because the job she had moved for ultimately changed.
"I felt myself spiral. They say New York City will chew you up and spit you out, and that's how it felt to me," Broome said.
Hiccup and Toothless' first flight in 2025's "How to Train Your Dragon" and 2010's "How to Train Your Dragon."
Universal Pictures / Paramount Pictures
Universal Studios has jumped on the live-action remake trend with "How to Train Your Dragon."
Fans and critics have noticed the remake and the original are very similar.
The director told Business Insider that's what Universal wanted.
You'd expect the new "How to Train Your Dragon" live action remake to share some similarities with the original 2010 animation — but some fans and critics are not happy that they're almost identical shot-for-shot.
Dean DeBlois, who co-directed the original and directed the live-action movie that is out Friday, told Business Insider that Universal Studios was clear from the beginning that it wanted the remake to tell the same story.
Universal Studios jumped on the trend after Disney made over $8 billion from live-action remakes of its animations, according to data from Box Office Mojo. "How to Train Your Dragon" is arguably an unsurprising choice as one of the most successful animated movie franchises by Universal's animation branch, DreamWorks. All three movies were nominated for Oscars, and grossed $1.6 billion in total.
Toothless and Hiccup (Mason Thames) in the live-action reboot of "How to Train Your Dragon."
Universal Pictures
DeBlois said Universal told him of the remake: "'We want that story but bring to it every embellishment you can. Let's go deeper into the mythology.
"Let's deepen the characters, let's make it feel a little more mature. Let's lean into the action and make it more visceral and immersive."
Universal didn't respond to a request for comment from Business Insider.
DeBlois said he agreed to make what would be his first live-action movie because he didn't want someone else adapting his work.
"If you're going to do it, I want to do it because I know where the heart is, and I know these characters, I know this world," he recalled telling Universal.
Although he's not a fan of live action remakes of animated movies, DeBlois said, he wanted to "be in charge of this one so I can preserve its integrity and pay tribute to the fans."
He added: "The intention was always 'let's do another version of it, but not the version that would replace the animated movie.'"
Meanwhile, Disney has been criticized for making too many changes in their live-action remakes of "Snow White" and "Lilo & Stitch."
DeBlois acknowledged there was no way to make all fans happy, regardless of the extent of the changes.
"This version, I feel, keeps the best of what was there and adds to it in good and subtle, and significant ways," Deblois said.
A married couple left Los Angeles for Mexico over fears of deportation.
Raegan Kline
Alfredo Linares moved to Mexico with his wife Raegan Kline due to deportation fears in the U.S.
The couple left Los Angeles with $20,000 in debt after closing their Japanese barbecue pop-up restaurant.
After several months of instability, the two are finally finding some footing in Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco.
When Raegan Kline and Alfredo Linares married last summer, their dream felt straightforward and simple: start a Japanese barbecue pop-up restaurant in Los Angeles and live happily ever after.
But all of that changed in the fall when President Donald Trump, who had promised mass deportations on the campaign trail, won reelection.
Linares, who had worked his way up in fine dining to become a cook in a Michelin Star restaurant, arrived in the US as a teenager at 19 with his family and has lived here illegally ever since. Kline, a US citizen, was stricken with worry that at any moment, her husband could be arrested and deported.
"I really didn't feel safe," Kline said. "Every morning I would wake up saying, 'If we don't go and something happens to him, I'll never be able to forgive myself.' "
In March, the couple moved from Culver City to Linare's birth country of Mexico in hopes of improving their chances of building a future together.
"I lived in the shadows for 20 years," Linares said. "I'm 38 years old, so I don't think I have 10 more years of living in the shadows when I'm trying to build a business and grow as a family, as an entrepreneur."
Going into debt to move to Mexico
The couple received around $10,000 in cash from their parents as a wedding gift. They had originally hoped to use the money to hire a lawyer to help Linares gain citizenship, but they wrestled with the best way to use the money to secure a future together.
"Do we really go ahead and gamble and trust this administration with this $10,000 that our parents gave us for our wedding gifts, or do we use that $10,000 to move to Mexico?" Kline said of their dilemma.
But even the wedding gift wasn't enough to help them break even and start fresh in Mexico. The pair took on debt to start their Japanese barbecue business last spring. While they tried to get it off the ground, their bills ballooned to over $20,000. They raised over $4,000 online through GoFundMe to help them with their relocation.
The couple married last July and have been navigating the hurdles of moving to a new country together.
Raegan Kline
Since the move, they've attempted to find jobs in hospitality, but because Linares doesn't have an identification card and Kline doesn't have work authorization as a temporary resident, it's been difficult to pay the bills.
"We're not earning an income," Kline said. "We have all of that stress and try to keep our credit card in a reasonable place and keep ourselves on a budget."
Adjusting to life in a new country
The biggest hurdle for them has been navigating the deluge of paperwork and bureaucracy in a new country.
"I'm very Americanized," Linares said. "Yes, I'm Mexican, but I haven't been here for 20 years. It's totally different from the Mexico I left."
From needing a physical copy of a birth certificate to struggling to establish Linares' permanent residence, it's been hard for him to get an ID card when they were first living in Airbnbs in Mexico City.
"I need my ID, but I cannot have an ID because I don't have a home address. And I can't get a home address because I don't have a job, because I don't have an ID," Linares said of the frustrating situation.
Now they are renting an apartment in Puerto Vallarta in the state of Jalisco, where they've been finally settling in over the past three weeks.
"I feel like myself a little bit more," Kline said of the stability. "I'm realizing that this is where we live, this is our home. We're not on vacation."
Kline is now able to see past the trials of the past few months and look toward the future with more hope. They've since brought down their rescue dog Dolly Love from Los Angeles to live with them in Mexico.
The pair is finally settled into a new apartment with their rescue dog.
Raegan Kline
"I do believe we made the right choice," Kline said. "I do believe that there's opportunity here. I do believe in my husband and his talents and his skills."
The move to Mexico has tested their relationship and challenged them in many different ways, but Linares said the core of their bond hasn't been shaken.
They keep a routine of checking in with each other over coffee every morning. "She makes things easier, and it's because of the communication that we have," Linares said of his wife.
