In a year already overflowing with nostalgia-driven franchise films, He-Man: Masters of the Universe had its task cut out: how do you turn an absurd ’80s toyline into something modern audiences will actually take seriously, without compromising on nostalgia?
Directed by Travis Knight, the film acknowledges the challenge and dives headfirst into it.
The story follows Prince Adam (Nicholas Galitzine). As a child in Eternia, he grows up in a world that mixes sword-and-sorcery fantasy with sci-fi spectacle — giant beasts, glowing weapons, and warriors who look like they walked straight out of an action figure aisle. When the villainous Skeletor (Jared Leto), attacks and tears his family apart, Adam is sent to Earth along with the mystical Sword of Power.
From there, the film takes a long detour into something unexpectedly mundane. Adam grows up not as a warrior, but as a regular office worker in human resources.
When Adam finally rediscovers the Sword of Power, the story snaps back into familiar territory. He returns to Eternia, now ruled by chaos, and must reclaim his role as He-Man to stop Skeletor and save what’s left of his world.
If the narrative is straightforward, the tone is anything like it.
The film borrows heavily from the Thor: Ragnarok approach: bright visuals, exaggerated performances, and a constant undercurrent of humour that signals it knows how silly it all is. The film never takes itself too seriously.
Galitzine plays Adam as someone caught between two identities: the awkward, overthinking Earth resident and the destined warrior he’s supposed to become. He’s convincing in both modes individually, even if the transition between them doesn’t always feel seamless. As He-Man, he sells the physicality. As Adam, he sells the uncertainty. It’s the bridge between the two that occasionally feels shaky.
The film’s biggest surprise, however, is Jared Leto’s Skeletor.
Freed from realism and fully embraced as a stylised villain, Leto delivers a performance that is loud, theatrical, and deliberately excessive. There’s a playful confidence in the way he speaks, mocks, and manipulates.
Around them, the supporting cast does solid but uneven work. Idris Elba brings weight to Man-at-Arms, though the script doesn’t always give him enough to do beyond exposition. Camila Mendes offers steadiness as Teela, while Alison Brie and Kristen Wiig are both capable performers slightly constrained by thin character arcs.
Visuals of Eternia, designed like a living toy set, accentuate the film’s comic-book energy. The soundtrack reinforces that identity, leaning heavily on ’80s rock influences and synth-driven scoring.
Beneath the spectacle, there’s a more serious idea struggling to surface: what does it mean to be strong? Is it physical dominance, emotional restraint, or the ability to understand others? The film gestures toward a more modern definition of heroism. One built on empathy rather than aggression. But the writing never fully commits to that direction.
Instead, it ultimately returns to what blockbuster storytelling knows best: the final battle, the big confrontation, the physical showdown that resolves everything in a burst of spectacle.