After 20 years of trying, Mattel has finally shepherded a Masters of the Universe reboot to the screen — you can see the toll of a decades-long stint in development has on a production in all of the writers who were given “additional literary material” credits — and there’s only really one question that remains: Why? Why spend all that time and effort on gags where our hero has to sit through corporate DEI seminars? Why, in the post-Endgame era, target the segment of the audience that still feels ashamed of the fact that they played with “dolls” who had silly names and stories? Why lure the true-blue fan into the theater with promises of source-accurate representations of Trapjaw or Moss Man or Glup Shitto (if nothing else, this is what director Travis Knight excels at) and then tell them that their shit is dumb? Why ignore the possibility that, God forbid, kids might actually get interested in this world and, you know, buy your product?
I don’t think there’s any shame in saying that like it is: MOTU would not exist if the FCC hadn’t rolled back guidelines on children’s programming and advertising, and advertising’s just essential to its ethos.* Yet, it’s not like they can really work up any enthusiasm for this particular pitch. There’s a moment of Coke product placement that feels more lovingly rendered than anything Mattel can muster up for its own flagship boy-centric franchise: label out, poured gingerly into a glass full of crackling ice at some Oklahoma City steakhouse by Prince Adam (Nicholas Galitzine). All that’s missing are a long, thirsty swallow and a satisfied “ahh” to stimulate the Pavlovian response in your average popcorn eater. But, hey, it’s understandable why he’d want a drink. However, in context, I’d imagine he’d have wanted something stronger — a tasty beverage is the perfect way to take the edge off when you’re royalty from a galaxy far, far away, and absolutely bombing on a date by telling her of your home-world, lost throne, and flight to Earth.
Adam was born on Eternia, which could best be described as “generic fantasy world #17.” It was purpose-built to accommodate the cyber-medieval landscape of the toy line, and so advanced laser guns co-exist with stone-built fortresses and magic. His idyllic childhood — though often disrupted by his lack of combat skills or traditional “masculine” signifiers — came to an end when Skeletor (Jared Leto) invaded. Were it not for the timely intervention of the Sorceress (Morena Baccarin), the avian-styled protector of his ancestral home Castle Greyskull, he likely would have joined his mom and dad in the evil one’s captivity. Endowed with the Sword of Power — a mystical weapon that can channel the powers of the gods to a mortal man — he was sent to Earth, where he… lost the sword in the process of getting there. Meanwhile, Skeletor, his henchmistrress Evil-Lynn (Alison Brie), and their corps of cool-looking weirdos go about the business of ruining everything Adam held so dear.
Flash forward a few decades: Adam’s working in HR at some faceless company, getting on his manager’s nerves because he’s obsessed with “finding his sword,” embarrassing his roommate, and scaring off potential dates. You know what’s gonna happen: Our dude finally gets reunited with Temu Excalibur, Skeletor sends a goon (Beast-Man) to get it after it broadcasts some galaxy-wide signal, and following a fight on the freeways of Oklahoma City, he gets rescued by his childhood best friend, Teela (Camila Mendes). She’s disappointed to see what’s become of her pal, much as she’s been disappointed by everything else in her life.
Eternia is in ruins, the nascent resistance she joined is perpetually losing to Skeletor’s forces, and her father, Man-at-Arms (Sir Idris Elba), is a drunken shell of his former self. Any one of these circumstances would make even the most cheery character into a buzzkill, and that’s exactly what she is, resenting Adam’s naivety even as she’s excited to bring him and the sword back home. He, on the other hand, is effervescent, though he’s quick to realize that all the aspects of his world that he missed were never really that great to begin with. He’s still not a “man,” so much so that all of his childhood heroes can’t believe this pink-shirted fool is the Prince Who Was Promised. Luckily for everyone, the Sword’s about to grant him some fabulous secret powers and, as the old sketch goes, Pump. Him. Up.
Knight’s issues in live-action have never been due to a lack of skill, as anyone could assume based on his animated work at Laika. The action here is, for the most part, well-staged and comprehensible; the VFX work is a reasonably impressive balance between practical and digital artistry**; and his cast often punches above the property’s weight. Galitzine is well-suited for the role as Knight’s portraying it, doing the wide-eyed Chris Pratt schtick without a wink or a nod — if any of the comedy works, it comes from his unbridled enthusiasm and willingness to embarrass himself — while also being able to sell Adam’s physical and psychological transformation after a dose of some PEM (performance-enhancing magic). Elba’s also quite good, doing a riff on the Dino role in Hawks’ Rio Bravo, and Brie is game to vamp it up, all decked out in witchy regalia. Pity he had to sully the ensemble with Leto, as it would have been cheaper to hire Matt Berry, whose baritone and crisp enunciation the actor seems to be aiming for. Ideally, he would have squawked as he did in the cartoon, but who knows where the uncrossable line of “too ridiculous to film” lies with Mattel’s brain trust.
Keep in mind that this is the second fix-it job Knight has done for a toy franchise, and it’s another case of diminishing returns. The problems he was tasked with solving for Hasbro were more identifiable when he was traveling in Michael Bay’s slipstream, and his solution was to ultimately re-style the “boy and his car” aims of the first Transformers film under a coat of Stranger Things-branded paint. It was a stronger fit than what he does here with the ’87 film, which informs the new Masters of the Universe more than you’d think*** in how it reverses the fish-out-of-water dynamic. This makes a certain amount of sense — especially in how closely it mirrors other “origin” tales that have been proven successes — but it’s presented with a notable lack of sentiment. I don’t mean to suggest that one should particularly care about fidelity to or respect for the source material when it comes to making a feature-length ad, but the ironic distance that Knight presents this world to us smothers any hope that it might connect on a deeper level. Everything is a Whedon-esque hoary punchline, delivered with the same uninspired affect, contrasted with the Flash Gordon visuals (complete with a Queen needle drop), a combo incompatible with the true goal: be boy Barbie.
Gerwig’s film established itself as the template for these types of tie-in movies going forward, and that approach only works when one has an understanding of a property’s cultural footprint, a cogent thesis to accompany the entertainment, and some way to emphasize to the audience that this shit matters. He-Man has never had the stranglehold that The Pink One has had on American childhoods (he was off store shelves for most of my childhood, to be sure) and, likewise, its ideas befit its also-ran status: It is, of course, a mealy-mouthed statement about presenting as masculine in the modern era. Knight ostensibly wants us to walk away with the lesson that Adam’s good-hearted nature is his real source of strength, yet the movie constantly belittles this aspect of his character, even after he’s completed his labors and saved the world. Meanwhile, there are the scenes set on Earth, full of a simmering rage at the “feminizing” ways of corporate culture — “I have the power” reinterpreted as a seminar chant, conducted by Adam’s boss, a black woman with a shaved head and overly-cautious-yet-peppy HR demeanor — which is intended to provide a polar counter-balance to the hyper-masculine expectations of those on Eternia.
It is, by design, an unfair contest: the cubes will always lose out to castles; the conflict resolution training will never work when you’ve got biceps the size of Challah loaves, and you’re confronted with a purple-and-blue Jared Leto theatrically rolling his Rs (after all, anyone in that situation would put up their dukes and swing). Yet one would hope a movie based on a Saturday morning cartoon would be aimed lower — you know, for kids — instead of at their fathers, even if they’re the only ones in the crowd who opened up the toys first-hand back in the mid ‘80s. Mattel could have started over, much as ND Stevenson did with She-Ra, but to do so would risk more than they’re comfortable with. That’s how you wind up with a Masters of the Universe that is a fantasy of regret more than limitless possibility; that you, once promised great things, might be freed from the shackles of an ordinary life, should some nerd reach out and try to sell your birthright back to you.
* It’s not like most critics complained when Greta Gerwig did it.
** The costumers deserve a specific shout-out, with Mechaneck, Ram Man, and Skeletor looking cartoon-accurate and fantastic.
*** One could say they Dolph the cap.