Director: Travis Knight
Writers: Chris Butler, David Callaham, Aaron Nee, Adam Nee, Alex Litvak, Michael Finch
For nearly four decades, fans have waited for a worthy successor to the 1987 Masters of the Universe film starring Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella. While that film developed a cult following over the years, many fans felt it never fully captured the scope, mythology, and wonder of Eternia that made the franchise so beloved. The good news is that the 2026 version gets a lot right.
Here comes the spoilers…
The filmmakers clearly understand the source material, the fan service is handled exceptionally well, and longtime fans will find themselves smiling at numerous cameos, references, callbacks, and Easter eggs woven throughout the story. This feels like a film made by people who genuinely appreciate Masters of the Universe. Unfortunately, while the movie succeeds at honoring the franchise’s past, it misses an opportunity to strengthen what should have been the emotional core of its story: Adam’s life on Earth before becoming He-Man.
The film does many things well. Eternia looks fantastic. The action is exciting. The production design captures much of the larger-than-life fantasy that fans have wanted to see on the big screen for decades. Skeletor is appropriately menacing, and the mythology surrounding Eternia feels expansive and important. The filmmakers clearly understand the visual appeal of the property. Unfortunately, the story overlooks what should have been its strongest emotional foundation: Adam’s life on Earth.
According to the film’s own premise, Adam has spent years stranded on Earth after being separated from Eternia as a child. Think about what that would realistically look like on present-day Earth. A young boy randomly appears, has no family or friends to be found, and is carrying memories of magical kingdoms, evil sorcerers, and a destiny nobody else believes exists. Every adult around him would naturally assume he was confused, traumatized, or simply making things up. Therapists would question his stories. Teachers would dismiss his claims. Other children would mock him relentlessly. Some would call him weird. Others would call him crazy. Yet the film largely skips over these experiences.
Instead of allowing audiences to feel the weight of Adam’s isolation, the story quickly establishes what the last 15 or so years have looked like for him and hustles along. The result is a protagonist whose struggles are explained to the audience rather than experienced by them. We are told he does not belong, but we rarely feel what that true loneliness has cost him growing up as an outsider.
A stronger approach might have had the film open with a young Adam sitting in a therapist’s office. He recounts his final memories of Eternia, how he doesn’t know if his home, family, or friends survived. The audience sees brief flashes of the kingdom, Skeletor, and the chaos that led to his arrival on Earth. Adam insists everything happened exactly as he remembers it, and yet when the story ends, the therapist calmly writes a single word in a notebook: “Crazy.”
From there, a montage could have shown years of rejection and isolation. Adam is being teased by classmates. Foster families are struggling to understand him. Teachers dismissed his stories and drawings year after year. Doctors searching for explanations. Every attempt he makes to explain Eternia only reinforces his reputation as the strange kid nobody understands. Suddenly, Adam’s obsession with finding the sword and returning home becomes far more compelling because it’s no longer merely a quest, but becomes the only way for him to find validation.
The audience is no longer watching someone search for a magical artifact; they are watching someone desperately trying to prove that his entire life has not been a delusion. Every setback carries emotional weight because failure means the world was right about him all along. This missing character development creates a ripple effect throughout the film.
When Adam eventually discovers the truth about his origins, the moment should feel triumphant. It should be the culmination of years of doubt, ridicule, and loneliness. Instead, the transformation often feels more like a plot advancement than an emotional breakthrough. The audience understands why the moment matters, but the film never fully allows them to feel why it matters.
The irony is that the movie already contains the ingredients for a powerful coming-of-age story. At its core, Adam is an outsider. He is someone who has spent his life believing something nobody else believes. Many audience members know exactly what that feels like. They know what it is like to be dismissed, misunderstood, or treated as different. By spending more time exploring those experiences, the film could have forged a much deeper emotional connection between Adam and the audience. Instead, the movie focuses primarily on getting Adam back to Eternia as quickly as possible.
The result is an entertaining fantasy adventure that succeeds visually and delivers some of the best fan service the franchise has ever received, but occasionally falls short emotionally. The spectacle is there. The mythology is there. The action is there. What is missing is the stronger emotional bridge between the lonely young man on Earth and the legendary hero he eventually becomes.
In the end, Masters of the Universe understands that audiences want to see He-Man. What it sometimes forgets is that before we can celebrate the hero, we must first care about the person. He-Man may have the power, but gaining new fans through stronger character development ensures long-term franchise success.
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