One Movie Later: Masters of the Universe Doesn’t Have the Power!

by James Coulter

He‑Man is the quintessential 1980s franchise—one of the first cartoons born from the FCC’s deregulation of children’s programming, which opened the floodgates for toy‑driven shows like Transformers, My Little Pony, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Yet while those brands continue to thrive through modern reboots, He‑Man has struggled to stay culturally relevant.

Recent attempts, from Netflix’s animated revivals to even the praised She‑Ra reboot, have received mixed reception, especially from the generation that grew up with the original series. That leaves the new film with a heavy burden: win back longtime fans, capture a new audience, and rise above the infamously panned 1987 film.

So, does Masters of the Universe truly have the power? Or are there robots smarter than the people who created it?

The film follows Adam, prince of Eternia, sent to Earth as a child after Skeletor’s forces invade. Years later, fabulous secret powers were revealed to him the day he discovered his magical sword and held it aloft to say, “By the power of Grayskull!” With his powers awakened, he becomes He-Man, the most powerful man in the universe, who must return to his home planet to stop Skeletor and reclaim Eternia. But does he truly have the power?

If that sounds like the classic cartoon intro, it’s because the movie sticks closely to the show’s core premise: Adam wields a magic sword, turns into He-Man, and fights against the evil Skeletor. The movie simply turns that premise into a film-length hero’s journey with a blend of Thor and John Carter.

To its credit, Adam’s backstory isn’t entirely boilerplate. He remembers Eternia, actively searches for his sword, and never fully fits the fish‑out‑of‑water mold. Still, reality keeps colliding with his childhood memories, with him even forgetting the names of old allies and giving them child-like nicknames like Ram Man and Fisto.

The film even tries to give him an emotional arc, framing his strength not as macho posturing but as empathy learned from his day job in human resources on Earth. It leans heavily on the familiar “the power was inside you all along” trope—though whether it lands is very much debatable.

I’ll admit I’m not part of the target fanbase. As a child of 1987, I grew up on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not He-Man—not even in reruns! I’ve only seen a few episodes, Kevin Smith’s Netflix mini-series, and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power—which I consider the best! Still, I at least respect the franchise, and I truly wanted to enjoy this movie. Maybe that’s why I’m disappointed that I found it disappointing.

First off, Jared Leto simply doesn’t work as Skeletor. Even setting aside the allegations surrounding the actor, he can’t balance the character’s signature blend of menace and camp. Skeletor is a ham‑and‑cheese sandwich who chews the scenery in every scene he’s in, shifting from threatening to flamboyant to outright buffoonish on a dime.

Leto, however, leans so hard into sinister menace that his comedic beats land with all the stiffness of actual bones. He isn’t playing Skeletor so much as channeling the Horned King from Disney’s The Black Cauldron, and whenever the script asks him to be funny, the mismatch becomes painfully obvious.

Perhaps Masters of the Universe’s biggest problem is that it never decides what it wants to be. After fifteen years in development hell, the identity crisis shows. The film feels like a patchwork of competing visions rather than a cohesive, confident take on He‑Man.

I can best describe this film as trying—and failing!—to be a Marvel movie. That’s a shame. I like Marvel movies. I love Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor: Ragnarök, and Deadpool. I feel more superhero films should be more light-hearted and fun. That’s why James Gunn’s Superman, while not perfect, felt like a refreshing break from the grimdark posturing of Batman V. Superman. But Masters of the Universe tries to mimic Marvel’s tone without understanding why it works, and the result is meta‑humor that lands with a thud.

Take the jailbreak sequence: Adam and his allies blow open their cell, stride out in slow motion to Queen’s “Princes of the Universe,” and immediately start choking on dust. Whatever momentum the scene had evaporates in a single gag that undercuts the heroes instead of elevating them.

Compare that to Guardians of the Galaxy, where Nebula’s dramatic monologue is cut short by Drax blasting her mid‑speech, or Ronan’s villainous rant is derailed by Star‑Lord’s impromptu dance distraction. Those jokes work because the villains are the punchline, reinforcing the heroes’ competence. Masters of the Universe, conversely, makes its protagonists look foolish instead.

The same issue appears when Adam unveils the name “He‑Man” and his allies mock it. Meanwhile, in Guardians: Vol. 2, Taserface’s name being mocked by Rocket is funny because it punctures the villain’s self‑seriousness. Here, the movie is laughing at its own mythology, not playing with it. If Marvel movies have fun with themselves, the He-Man movie makes fun of itself, making its meta-humor come across as insecure self‑sabotage.

I want to be generous and say Masters of the Universe is at least better than the 1987 film. To its credit, it’s more faithful to the source material than a movie that spent most of its runtime on modern‑day Earth. But the ’87 version was at least so bad it’s good. This one isn’t good or bad—it’s just dull. Unlike its hero, it never quite finds the power.