By the Intermittent Current of Greyskul

Leaning hard, sometimes with hints of desperation, sometimes to great effect, into its Flash Gordon-ness, Masters of the Universe is a frustrating, slippery soap of a movie that shoots out of your hands every time you think you get a hold of it. In the moments when it doesn't seem ashamed of what it is and fully embraces the source material, or even when it dials the campiness to 11, it's a lot of over-the-top popcorn-munching fun.

Faithful character and set designs (race-swapping notwithstanding), vignettes ripped directly from the 80s cartoon, and a kicking, if derivative, rock opera soundtrack will have all occasionally smiling, and some fooled.

Sword in Search of a Hero

At its core, though, Masters of the Universe is a fundamentally flawed movie that needlessly reimagines He-Man's origin story, eating up time and so radically altering Adam's character as to, unlike his transformation into He-Man, render him unrecognizable. More than that, it's an unforced error that creates a tonal clash, keeping the movie from becoming something special.

In the original cartoon, Adam wasn't truly awkward or timid; much like early Clark Kent, those qualities functioned as a disguise, helping protect those around him from enemies who might exploit them to get to him. In 2026, however, Adam's awkwardness isn't an act but a built-in character flaw meant to be overcome. That change would be forgivable were it not paired with an even more fundamental misunderstanding of the character. The He-Man of 1984 was never a reluctant hero, nor one squeamish about confronting evil. Here, he often is, until the script suddenly needs him not to be. Character motivations, tone, and even basic sensibilities shift scene to scene depending on whether the filmmakers want a joke or need to move the plot forward. What initially feels like reinvention quickly becomes exhausting.

Whereas 1987’s Masters of the Universe, starring Dolph Lundgren, stayed largely on Earth to accommodate budget constraints and the era's special effects limitations, 2026’s attempt spends barely ten minutes there, just enough to turn its already reworked Adam into a bumbling fish out of water and further amplify traits the film will consistently overplay. One moment, Adam hints at becoming the confident hero audiences came to see; the next, the script channels the worst instincts of modern self-aware blockbuster comedy and reduces him to a touchy-feely punchline. The result is a protagonist who never quite feels like he belongs in his own movie.

Battle Script

Regrettably, the script's clashing tones don't stop with He-Man.

When permitted, the core cast makes the most of the uneven material. Relative newcomer Nicholas Galitzine does what he can with an Adam/He-Man. Meanwhile, Camila Mendes, probably the weakest of the bunch, but not for lack of talent, struggles to find her place in a story that doesn't really know what to do with her, largely putting her in a position to perform needed tasks that carry the team (sometimes literally) to the next sequence. Teela is helpful and encouraging, right up until the script needs a moment of interpersonal conflict. She then becomes a dismissive, snarky jerk before snapping back once again.

Probably most surprisingly, Idris Elba delivers what would have been the standout, show-stealing performance of the film. Elba is a charismatic and talented actor, so that he performs his duties admirably isn't what's surprising. What is surprising is that, had his Man at Arms not been emotionally sidelined immediately after a killer character intro, he's all anyone would be talking about. I found myself sitting up and almost getting excited despite what the filmmakers were doing to Adam. Then, Rian Johnson must have given some notes, and expectations were duly subverted.

Good Bones

This leaves us with Jared Leto's Skeletor. Leto, an Academy Award-winning actor who peaked with his mostly silent role as Angel Face in 1999's Fight Club, has been dining out on good looks and obnoxious behavior ever since. The 54-year-old art student has spent the last decade as box-office poison for superhero movies, with his panned performance as the Joker in Suicide Squad, his disastrous turn as the living vampire Morbius, and his bizarre flat performance in Tron: Ares. So, the internet chatter expressing concern over the jumped-up theater kid's stepping into the blue skin of many a Gen-Xer's favorite cartoon villain was understandable. However, if you are still planning on seeing the film, even after reading this review, rest easy: not only is he not the worst thing in Masters of the Universe, but, by default, he's arguably the best thing in it.

Skeletor is the perfect role for an actor with no middle ground, and although the voice is wrong (think Stewie Griffin as Darth Vader with cottonballs in his mouth), the larger-than-life, and occasionally silly villain strikes a solid balance between camp and menacing. Leto is helped, in no small measure, by the movie's best blending of practical and digital effects. Even when the script devolves into the deepest reaches of Thor: Love and Thunder territory, he's a delight to look upon

Stop Appologizing

Ultimately, Masters of the Universe isn't bad because it's campy, loud, colorful, or even because it occasionally borders on parody. In fact, those are often its strongest moments. It's at its best when it stops apologizing for being Masters of the Universe and fully commits to its cartoon roots. Unfortunately, every time the movie begins to find its footing, it undercuts itself with tonal whiplash, misplaced irony, and a version of Adam that never feels fully comfortable wearing the sword. What's left is a visually slick adaptation that comes frustratingly close to greatness before settling for being merely watchable.