A young man returns to the fantastical realm of Eternia and is thrust into a battle to free it from tyranny in Travis Knight’s Masters of the Universe.

Capitalising on nostalgia has long been a Hollywood priority. Adapting childhood favourites for the big screen has paid off often enough that studios are always searching for the next property to revive. For audiences, these films offer a chance to recapture a little of their youth; for studios, they promise a healthy payday if viewers turn up. Appeasing those who loved the material as kids while also appealing to newcomers requires real skill, and Travis Knight seemed an ideal choice after Bumblebee. That film worked because it found an angle broad audiences could connect with, suggesting Knight understands how to strike that balance. His involvement here was therefore encouraging.

In this case, the angle Knight explores is masculinity and what defines it in the modern world. Adam (Nicholas Galitzine) is sent to Earth after an attack on Eternia and spends his life yearning to return. While searching for a way home, he works in Human Resources and openly tells anyone who’ll listen the truth about where he comes from. An early date scene neatly illustrates how most people react to his stories of larger‑than‑life figures, lasers, and fantastical creatures, yet he never censors himself or abandons his desire to go back. Placing Adam in HR is a clever choice: it frames him as someone trained to resolve conflict through communication rather than violence. The film has fun with corporate jargon that obscures meaning more than it clarifies, but there’s an earnestness to Adam’s belief in compromise over confrontation.

He carries this mindset back to Eternia, where he returns to a War that has raged in the fifteen years since he was sent to Earth. A man who has spent his life avoiding conflict suddenly finds himself having to defend against people who want to kill him. This coincides with the revelation that he is the Champion of Greyskull, able to wield the Sword of Power and channel Godlike abilities to protect his people. With that comes the physical strength to fight back, and the ability to resolve conflict through brute force becomes briefly intoxicating.

Adam’s arc is about finding balance between his physical strength and his capacity for reason, a tension between brawn and brain. The film shows him wrestling with this on several occasions, reflecting on his actions in battle and questioning whether violence is something to celebrate. Eternian culture is deeply militaristic: children are trained for combat from a young age and taught to value physical strength above all else. His father, King Randor (James Purefoy), expresses disappointment in his small, non‑warrior‑like ten‑year‑old son, reinforcing the “might makes right” ethos Adam has internalised since childhood.

His journey becomes as much about reconciling those parental expectations as it is about accepting his role as the chosen Champion. The film treats that destiny almost as a metaphor for the pressure to live up to what others believe you should be, and Adam’s growth lies in realising that embracing that responsibility doesn’t mean surrendering his own values. This makes his initial intoxication with newfound power understandable, and the early scenes of his HR work give weight to his later discomfort once the combat high fades. It’s strong grounding that fuels his journey toward equilibrium.

Nicholas Galitzine delivers a layered and earnest performance as Adam. He embodies the lost little boy yearning for home, the man overwhelmed by the intensity of the conflict he’s thrown into, the reluctant leader trying to hold onto his values, and the hero he gradually becomes. It’s a wide‑ranging role, and he juggles its demands with ease, bringing a believable physicality when the film shifts into action.

Eternia’s militaristic culture is embodied in Duncan, also known as Man-At-Arms (Idris Elba), who outwardly lives for the fight and the celebration that follows victory. He begins as someone who can’t conceive of defeat and is shattered when he experiences it. He represents the extreme end of a conflict‑driven worldview, unable to function once he loses, yet he also offers a valuable perspective that shows Adam there’s no single correct approach to conflict. Duncan believes that those with strength have a duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves. Fighting is sometimes necessary, but the motivation should be protection rather than glory. He views Eternia’s current state as his personal failure, having been unable to safeguard the people he cares about, and his arc involves realising that one defeat doesn’t define him and that emotions are to be acknowledged rather than suppressed. Idris Elba plays him with his usual effortless presence, giving Duncan enough depth to avoid becoming the shallow joke he easily could have been.

Duncan’s daughter Teela (Camila Mendes) is a product of the same conflict‑driven culture, having been encouraged from an early age to be strong and fearless. The film doesn’t explore the positive or negative consequences of that upbringing in much depth, but her relationship with Duncan remains compelling. She’s ashamed of the man he has become and sees herself as the adult in their current dynamic. More time could have been devoted to charting the shifts in their relationship, particularly once Duncan regains his confidence, but the foundation is solid. Mendes has the least range to play compared to her co‑stars, yet she handles Teela well. She’s clearly capable and confident in a crisis, but there’s also a gentleness to her that allows Teela to guide Adam as he readjusts to life on Eternia.

The film falters in its depiction of the villains. Skeletor (Jared Leto) is full pantomime, which has its moments, but it often undercuts the threat he is meant to represent. He’s written as little more than an obstacle, something the film acknowledges when he openly labels himself the villain with no deeper nuance to explore. This technically sidesteps the issue of a shallow antagonist, but it also means he contributes nothing to the film’s interest in alternative approaches to conflict. Leto is unrecognisable, delivering a flamboyant performance built on maniacal laughter and Saturday‑morning‑cartoon menace. His associate Evil‑Lyn (Alison Brie) is even less developed, offering little beyond theatrical posturing. Brie commits fully, but the character has no substance.

Narratively, the film is standard and predictable, but it’s executed with confidence. Adam’s arc remains the focus, and even though he’s often carried by the plot rather than driving it, the choices he makes gain importance as he grows into both the role expected of him and the one he chooses for himself. The film has a great deal to say about what defines a real man, with Adam’s HR training functioning as a kind of superpower that complements his musclebound persona in meaningful ways. This adds texture to what is otherwise a straightforward progression through a series of locations and escalating fights leading to the final confrontation. It also embraces the inherent silliness of its premise with a lightness of touch that keeps the action playful rather than self‑serious.

Visually, Masters of the Universe excels. Eternia is brightly coloured and varied, the costume and creature design is impressive, and the CGI quality is well above current blockbuster standards. The set pieces are creative and confidently directed, even if some feel familiar. The soundscape enhances the experience, with Daniel Pemberton’s rock‑heavy score adding an 80s hair‑metal flavour that does a great deal to set the tone. Together, these elements create a well‑constructed and well‑paced film that maintains its momentum throughout.

The film acknowledges the absurdity of its source material by leaning into it. Names like Ram‑Man and Fisto come from a ten‑year‑old who only half remembers his father’s army, and there are nods to quirks of the 80s animated series that long‑time fans will recognise. For those unfamiliar, these references never distract from the experience. Masters of the Universe understands that nostalgia can easily alienate new audiences, so it avoids overloading the film with esoteric details and instead uses its callbacks as flavour rather than foundation.

Ultimately, Masters of the Universe blends nostalgia, action, and a thoughtful character journey into a film that feels both familiar and freshly sincere. It proves that even the most outlandish material can resonate when anchored in genuine thematic purpose.

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Verdict

An assured film that pairs its exploration of masculinity with colourful, unpretentious fun, using Adam’s journey to probe the expectations imposed by culture, family, and fate.

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