Masters of the Universe (1987) – Review

1987’s Masters of the Universe is one of those gloriously misguided Cannon Films productions that swings for the stars and lands somewhere behind a California strip mall. It’s a movie that dares to ask, “What if cosmic fantasy looked like a low-budget cop drama?” The result is a fascinating, baffling, occasionally entertaining mess that somehow survives on sheer commitment alone.

On the distant planet of Eternia, Skeletor (Frank Langella) finally stops lurking in shadows and does what any self-respecting Saturday morning villain would do: he storms Castle Grayskull and takes over the universe’s ultimate power source like he’s grabbing the last donut in the break room. The Sorceress is captured and slowly drained of her power, because villains in the ‘80s loved a good slow-burn evil plan. Meanwhile, the heroic leftovers of Eternia: He-Man (Dolph Lundgren), Man-At-Arms (Jon Cypher), Teela (Chelsea Field), and a newly introduced walking plot device named Gwildor (Billy Barty), scramble to undo the damage using a glorified interdimensional boombox called the Cosmic Key.

“Well, we’ve got a Space MacGuffin, what now?”

Their rescue mission goes about as well as you’d expect from a team relying on a musical keypad to save reality. They break into the castle, fail spectacularly, and flee through a portal to Earth, because nothing says “epic fantasy” like abandoning your magical world for suburban America. The Cosmic Key gets lost almost immediately, because of course it does, and ends up in the hands of Julie Winston (Courteney Cox) and her boyfriend Kevin Corrigan (Robert Duncan McNeill), two teenagers who collectively radiate the decision-making skills of a damp sock. Kevin, believing the Key is some kind of futuristic synthesizer, starts casually pressing buttons that alert Skeletor’s forces, which is exactly the kind of curiosity that gets universes conquered.

“I can form a prog rock band with this!”

Back on Eternia, Skeletor reacts to failure with the emotional stability of a CEO firing interns, vaporizing Saurod and sending Evil-Lyn (Meg Foster) back to Earth with a bigger squad. On Earth, things devolve into a series of laser fights in gyms, alleys, and music stores, because Eternia apparently couldn’t afford more screen time. Julie gets dragged into the chaos, Kevin gets mind-controlled with a collar that looks like it came from a Halloween clearance bin, and a bewildered detective named Lubic (James Tolkan) spends most of the film trying to arrest people who are clearly not from this planet.

“You see. You see what happens to slackers, He-Man?”

Eventually, Skeletor tracks down the Key our heroes have been using, shows up on Earth like he owns the place, and wins. He captures everyone, wounds Julie, wipes the Key’s memory, enslaves He-Man, and returns to Eternia to finally absorb the power of the universe. This is the part where the movie briefly wakes up and remembers it’s supposed to be about cosmic stakes. Meanwhile, back on Earth, Gwildor and Kevin manage to reboot the Key using musical notes, proving that saving reality is basically a high-stakes band practice.

We, along with our heroes, remain confused.

They all return to Eternia for one last battle, where Skeletor becomes a gold-plated god, He-Man breaks free, and the two engage in a surprisingly committed duel that ends with Skeletor being tossed into a pit like last week’s trash. It’s one of the few moments where the movie actually delivers on the epic scale it’s been promising, complete with dramatic posing and lightning effects that are doing a lot of heavy lifting. Julie gets sent back in time to save her parents, because sure, why not add time travel to this already overstuffed script? And just in case you thought the movie was done piling on, we get a post-credits stinger where Skeletor’s head rises from the water in the pit, growling “I’ll be back!” because even this film refuses to accept a clean ending.

Needless to say, he did not come back.

Stray Observations:

• The Cosmic Key runs on musical notes, which means the fate of the universe depends on someone not hitting a wrong chord. Comforting.
• Gwildor, a professional locksmith, nostalgically sighs, “I remember the days when we didn’t have to lock our doors,” which is a bold stance from a man whose entire career depends on the opposite being true.
• Gwildor replaces Orko and somehow makes people miss Orko. That’s an achievement.
• Teela spots two teenagers kissing, and Man-at-Arms proudly declares, “I was doing that before you were even born,” which is technically true and still an impressively uncomfortable thing to say to your own daughter. One would certainly hope her mother was involved at some point.
• Skeletor vaporizes one of his own men for failing, then keeps sending the same incompetent squad back anyway. Strong leadership.
• Skeletor’s troops are all robots, not because it makes sense, but because Mattel insisted He-Man couldn’t actually kill anyone. Nothing says “fearsome invasion force” like a bunch of disposable action figures with an off switch.
• An alien army marches straight down Main Street U.S.A., complete with lasers and attitude, and the town reacts with the urgency of people ignoring a car alarm. No crowds, no panic, barely a cop. Small-town denial is undefeated.

“Nothing to see here. Move along.”

The journey from toy shelf to movie screen is where things get interesting, or tragic, depending on your tolerance. Masters of the Universe started as a Mattel toy line, exploded into a wildly popular animated series, and then got handed to Cannon Films, a studio famous for ambition outpacing budget by several miles. Director Gary Goddard clearly wanted to make something mythic and grand, but Mattel reportedly didn’t deliver their share of the funding on time, which is how you end up with Eternia being less “cosmic kingdom” and more “two sets and a fog machine.” Goddard even paid out of pocket to finish the He-Man vs. Skeletor finale, which is either admirable dedication or the cinematic equivalent of doubling down on a bad hand.

Note: Skeletor achieves godhood and still loses in about five minutes. Peak villain efficiency.

There’s also a genuine attempt to translate the source material into something with visual weight. You can see the influence of Jack Kirby in the designs and the attempt at blending sci-fi and fantasy into something operatic. The problem is that ambition requires money, and money was busy not showing up. So instead of a sprawling alien world, we get a handful of Eternian scenes surrounded by long stretches of Earth-bound filler. Battle Cat is nowhere to be found, likely because animating a giant green tiger costs more than filming in a parking lot, and Orko is replaced by Gwildor, who feels less like a natural fit for this world and more like a last-minute substitute who never quite earns his place.

“I’ve got an audition for Willow tomorrow.”

The cast is a mixed bag in the most predictable way possible. On Earth, Courteney Cox and Robert Duncan McNeill do exactly what’s required of them: they exist, they react, and they don’t actively derail the film. It’s almost impressive how “fine” they are. Dolph Lundgren looks the part of He-Man perfectly, a walking anatomy chart, but his performance suggests acting was optional. The absence of Prince Adam feels less like a creative decision and more like a quiet admission that dual identities require range. Meg Foster, on the other hand, leans into Evil-Lyn with those striking pale blue eyes doing half the work for her, adding a genuinely eerie presence.

“I’m my own special effect.”

Then comes the reason to watch this movie. Frank Langella’s Skeletor is the film’s one saving grace. When offered the role, Langella said, “I didn’t even blink … I couldn’t wait to play him,” and he attacks the part with that exact level of enthusiasm, delivering every line with theatrical relish and total commitment. He turns what could have been a one-note cartoon villain into something genuinely compelling, clearly understanding the assignment better than anyone else involved. Langella has since said that playing Skeletor was one of his favourite roles, and it shows in every scene. Without him, this film probably collapses into pure forgettable nonsense.

Frank Langella, Eternia MVP.

In conclusion, Masters of the Universe is a fascinating failure, the kind that almost earns respect through sheer effort. It’s a film constantly at war with its own limitations, trying to deliver cosmic fantasy while being dragged back to Earth by budget constraints and questionable decisions. Yet, there’s something oddly endearing about its determination, especially when it briefly taps into the epic tone it clearly wanted to sustain. It doesn’t work, not really, but it tries hard enough that you can’t entirely dismiss it.