Laika founder and director Travis Knight first jumped to live-action filmmaking with Bumblebee. There, by letting the franchise’s robots function as sincere dramatic figures, he provided a welcome departure from Michael Bay’s Transformers vision. While not without sly self-referential jokes (“They’re Decepticons…can we really trust them?”), Knight’s approach mainly centered on establishing audience investment in Bumblebee and friends. After several efforts marked by racial caricatures or “enemy scrotum” gags, this sincerity was a welcome breath of fresh air.

Knight returns to the toybox for another live-action adaptation of a Saturday morning cartoon from the era of leg-warmers and Don Henley. Unfortunately, Masters of the Universe saddles He-Man and his Eternia pals with lots more of the self-conscious “wink-wink” comedy that Bumblebee largely steered clear of. The result for Knight and the several screenwriters is an uneasy balance of Deadpool and Speed Racer. In other words, this one has shaky power.

The bloated screenplay penned by David Callaham, Aaron and Adam Nee, and fellow Laika veteran Chris Butler begins with a lengthy prologue. Set in Eternos, a mystical city in Eternia, we watch the escape of adolescent Prince Adam ahead of the evil Skeletor’s (Jared Leto) invasion. Though sent to Earth with the Sword of Power, he gets separated in transit. Thus, the once-noble prince grows up a normal guy (Nicholas Galitzine) in Oklahoma City. Well, a “normal” guy who can’t stop blabbering about how talking tigers and people called Ram-Man used to populate his life anyway.

Eventually, reunited with his sword and childhood best pal Teela (Camila Mendes), Adam returns to Eternia. However, in a narrative move mirroring Dorothy’s Return to Oz saga, this long-absent protagonist discovers the beloved fantasy realm of his childhood ruined, a dystopian nightmare risen in its place. Skeletor has taken over everything and zapped all the color from Eternia. To save the day, Adam must work with other kooky fantasy characters, like his former trainer Duncan (Idris Elba) and the automaton Roboto (Kristen Wiig).

It’s Pride Month, so let’s give it up for the flashy movies from LGBTQIA+ artists daring to challenge audiences. Queer art, including blockbusters like Batman & Robin and Speed Racer, embraces its outlandishness. These artists work to realize visions uninterested in assimilating to viewer expectations or blockbuster movie standards. Sadly, this Mattel adaptation lacks that immense confidence and devil-may-care gusto. Rather than commit to the bit, Masters of the Universe keeps leaning on punchlines about ridiculous names and underlining strange occurrences with declarations of “That’s weird!”. It’s a movie desperate to poke you in the ribs and prove it’s in on the joke.

The Humorous elements that work best recontextualize Adam/He-Man as a Kronk-style himbo. It’s an especially wise choice as it lets Galitzine utilize the strong farcical comic chops he demonstrated in Bottoms. Whether failing to slide over a car hood or fumbling his words around Eternia’s bravest warriors, it’s an endearing interpretation of living action figure as beefcake goofball.

Regrettably, though, one must acknowledge that the best MotU performance belongs to Leto’s Skeletor. In contrast to a series of underwhelming turns in the 2020s, he’s a riot here, wielding maximalist wickedness. Skeletor never just speaks. He constantly bellows grandiose proclamations to the Heavens. Alliteration litters his sentences. Skeletor’s not a post-modern deconstruction of a classical fantasy villain. Instead, the screenwriters revel in making Eternia’s adversary as fiendish as possible, a choice rendered delightfully delicious by the actor’s commitment.

Unfortunately, Galitzine and Leto’s performances only reinforce how little personality or concrete characterization the other cast members radiate. Camila Mendes, in particular, has nothing to do. She’s stuck with the kind of thinly sketched “girlboss” role Tasha Robinson was astutely criticizing 12 years ago. Most of the rest of Eternia’s warriors do little more than make tired “fisting” jokes. Most bizarrely, the film leaves He-Man’s talking green tiger, Cringer (Tom Wilton), off-screen for much of the runtime.

Why is MotU spending so much time with tired jokes about people saying the word “consensual” in the office while weirdo characters and chatty felines go largely untapped? Much like Frenchy in Grease, Travis Knight has “the dream but not the drive” to deliver a confidently bombastic fantasy epic.

The script fumbles its most conceptually interesting theme: what does it mean to be a “real man”? Dragged down by tin-eared dialogue and obvious thematic destinations, the final dagger in its heart comes from the film not walking its talk. If masculinity need not equal muscles or violence, why is the movie so much about punching and explosions?

If anyone should take a bow, it’s the artists behind the makeup, sets, and costumes. Unlike fellow 2026 summer blockbuster The Mandalorian and Grogu, Masters of the Universe doesn’t skimp on colors or ravishing costumes. Makeup artists like Hanna Lewis-Jones especially excel in realizing Skeletor’s vibrant henchmen like Trap-Jaw. Further, richly tangible textures on Skeletor’s costumes or in his various ominous lairs lend welcome immediacy to Eternia’s darkest corners.

Also deserving flowers is composer Daniel Pemberton, who’s now three-for-three with this, Project Hail Mary, and The Drama, in delivering exceptional 2026 movie scores. From the moment the MGM logo appears on-screen, Pemberton’s electric score, often featuring lively guitar work from Queen’s Brian May, channels the energy of a Bonnie Tyler power ballad. Sincere, rousing energy gets the blood pumping even when paired with inert imagery. He understood the assignment in a movie too often frustratingly conflicted.

Masters of the Universe wants desperately to make audiences cheer and revel in candy-colored whimsy. And yet it can’t help but make one of its first lines Adam apologetically saying, “I know, I know,” after belting out the phrase “Sword of Power.” Those opposing creative impulses and an overly lengthy script result in a fractured and emotionally disengaged work. More sincere Robert E. Howard/Barbara Hambly energy and less snarky Kuzco wit was the true path to Grayskull.

Masters of the Universe asks “what’s going on?” in theatres starting June 5.

Masters of the Universe Trailer: