Masters of the Universe Review: An Empty He-Man Epic
The new “Masters of the Universe” opens with a visual style that echoes “2001: A Space Odyssey,” but its tone quickly shifts toward the broad, playful energy associated with “Flash Gordon.” The film appears to favor camp and spectacle over seriousness, and that choice defines much of its approach. Directed by Travis Knight, who previously worked on “Bumblebee,” the movie reimagines He-Man as Adam, a humble office worker from Oklahoma City rather than a larger-than-life fantasy hero. Adam works in human resources, wears a pink shirt, drives a yellow Subaru, and is presented as an everyman whose ordinary life becomes a running joke throughout the film.
Nicholas Galitzine plays Adam with a physique that recalls Arnold Schwarzenegger, but the character’s personality is intentionally subdued and talkative. He constantly speaks in corporate language about conflict resolution, meaningful dialogue, and emotional openness, making him seem more like a modern workplace cliché than a mythic warrior. The comedy relies heavily on this contrast between Adam’s bland professional life and the extravagant world he is destined to enter. The joke is repeated often enough that it becomes one of the film’s central devices, even in the closing scenes.
The score also helps define the movie’s identity. With guitarist Brian May playing a major role, the music evokes Queen’s work on “Flash Gordon,” reinforcing the film’s retro-futuristic and knowingly exaggerated style. That musical reference signals that the movie is leaning into an intentionally silly, high-energy sci-fi adventure rather than a solemn reboot. The result suggests a production that is more interested in embracing absurdity, colorful action, and comic-book excess than in stripping the material down to realism.
From the description, the film seems to balance two very different impulses: a grand, almost philosophical opening borrowed from serious science fiction, and a later commitment to outrageous humor and fantasy. The lighter, campier mode appears to win out. That makes “Masters of the Universe” feel like a movie that wants to entertain through spectacle, personality, and self-aware nonsense rather than through emotional depth or intellectual weight.
The character of Adam is central to that strategy. By turning He-Man into a mild-mannered office employee, the film updates the classic hero for a contemporary audience while mining humor from the gap between mundane modern life and epic destiny. The portrayal also gives the story a fish-out-of-water quality, with the future champion of Eternia beginning as a man trapped in routine corporate existence.
Overall, the film is presented as an energetic but deliberately un-serious sci-fi fantasy that prefers camp, comedy, and nostalgia to gravitas. Its opening may nod to high-minded cinema, but its heart seems to lie in the kind of playful excess that made older genre movies memorable.






