Masters of the Universe is a movie that really wants your money, but also openly thinks you're an idiot for buying a ticket to see it. On that front, the film does have me pegged. After sitting through the excruciatingly long 140-minute trainwreck, I felt like an idiot for not walking out.
This is one of those cynical and insulting cash-grabs that at once plays every nostalgia-baiting note it can hit, while making fun of itself in the process, lest we ever get the idea that any of this is sincere. It is surprisingly violent, unnecessarily mean-spirited, vulgar, and despite flat-out stating the intended message at the end, still somehow encourages violence and toxic masculinity as a desired goal for all of life's problems.
Masters of the Universe's problems begin from the outset; there isn't a single likeable character in the entire film. It stars Nicholas Galitzine as a man-child who acts like an unhinged creep, while Jared Leto is an off-putting narcissist with a god complex, who plays Skeletor. To the film's credit, he is unrecognizable under the rubber suit and heavy voice modulation. The only way to tell it's Leto is because the performance would make a Christmas ham blush.
Adam (Galitzine) grows up on Eternia, a warring planet where children are conscripted as soldiers and taught by Duncan (Idris Elba) that real men fight and "it's not poets on the frontlines protecting your loved ones!" His father is a violent and distant man who beats his son in front of everyone, exclaiming that Adam is too weak for the world.
When Skeletor (Leto) suddenly attacks the kingdom, it almost comes as a reprieve. Adam's parents send him and the sword of power, the key to Eternia's might, to a place where Skeletor can never find him: Adam's mom's home planet, Earth. (Why Skeletor wouldn't look there is one of the numerous mysteries the film doesn't bother to answer.)
Years later, Adam is an unhinged mess who tells everyone that he's from another planet, covers his room in drawings of people he vaguely remembers, and searches for the sword of power, which he lost upon arrival. Everyone on Earth is obsessed with feelings and weaponized empathy, making Adam, who was a weakling on Eternia, look downright masculine. At the gym, he receives advice from a mysterious stranger (Dolph Lundgren) that guides him on a path to manhood.
Back in Eternia, nobody remembers or particularly likes Adam, and he gives them no reason to. Every scene until the very end is written the same way: Adam walks in, mouth agape, says something stupid or makes a sex joke about one of the characters, and someone gets punched. When he finally, over an hour into the film, turns into He-Man, he proceeds to tear an arm off a bad guy and shoot a dozen goons dead. Later, a group of heroes high-fives each other to the declaration: "We murdered everyone!"
As this disaster continued to unfold, I asked myself: Who is this for? Masters of the Universe is a film so deeply embarrassed by itself that it takes every opportunity to make fun of what it is. No one calls Adam He-Man, nor is anyone called their cartoon counterparts. Turns out, those were names that the deranged young Adam gave because he was so disconnected, stupid, or both that he didn't realize these people had actual names. When Adam reveals he wanted to be called He-Man, the film takes a long beat to laugh at how stupid it all is, right before demanding applause for a familiar nostalgic image lifted from the cartoons.
Similarly, it wants to say something about masculinity, but has no idea how to do so. Adam's roommate weepily watches romantic comedies in secret, while an entire bit about patricide(!) is brushed aside for a gag about punching each other to show how much they care. Sure, the Sorceress (Morena Baccarin) says she chose Adam as the next protector because he's kind and caring, yet the film constantly undermines these traits as clear weaknesses. Everything is solved with punching, which in turn rewards our heroes with admiration and lust from even their former bullies.
There's also a weird obsession with sex jokes. In the heat of the big climactic battle, we get lines like, "Give them head, Ram-Man!" There's an extended bit about fisting people. Teela (Camilia Mendes) calls Cringer a pussy and comments on Adam's bulging loincloth dangling before her face. Skeletor tells Adam he has a nice penis, while Evil-Lyn (Alison Brie) is nearly converted to becoming good simply because of Adam's muscles, and there's a persistent, evil mockery of a traumatized war veteran who has succumbed to alcoholism.
Those who still choose to remember M. Night Shyamalan's hysterically awful The Last Airbender are in for a treat, as Masters of the Universe features a moment of such stunning screenwriting hackery that it rivals the revelation that captive earthbenders have been surrounded by ground all this time.
To say any of this is misjudged would imply any judgment was used in the first place. In theory, Masters of the Universe could have taken the opportunity to talk about legacy, power, and the definition of masculinity, like the tremendous Masters of the Universe: Revelations series from a few years back. Instead, it chooses to mock both itself, the audience, and anyone looking to have a good time. Those who've hated the way Marvel refuses to take anything seriously in the past will have conniptions.
The original Masters of the Universe animated series came out over 40 years ago. The comics are even older than that. There is something incredibly sad about watching an increasingly aging franchise take the stage and apologize for its existence. At some point, it's fine to let go.
