We are delighted to present a full
review of the 1987 live-action Masters of
the Universe film directed by
Gary Goddard and starring Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella.
Now, you may be saying, “You’ve been cranking out these
one-sentence reviews for years, and this oft-reviled toy movie is the film you finally
decide to do a full review of? Why?” Well, that’s perfectly fair, and my only
response is this: because He-Man, that’s why. But if this is all too much for
you, you can find the plain old one-sentence review of the film below this post,
and no hard feelings.
Let me preface this review by saying that I am one of the
seemingly few people who not only loved the Filmation cartoon as a child but
still hold a strong affection for it as an adult. And while that version was
and is for me the definitive He-Man, I also have an appreciation for the
different forms the MOTU characters
and world have taken throughout the 1980s, and I take the premise reasonably
seriously in any case. That’s where I’m coming from on this movie, both in
terms of my views on the film when I saw it in the theater at the age of six and
how I see it, twenty-five years later, as an adult and quasi-film buff.
In the paragraphs that follow, I want to try to answer two
questions: 1. Is this a good movie? and 2. Is this a good He-Man movie? Now,
the obvious thing to do is say, “No, and no,” stamp the film with the label Warning: May Contain He-Man-Like Substance,
and move on with life. But let’s not be too hasty.
First of all, this film has a strong basic plot going for
it. Here, Skeletor has finally put it all together and conquered Eternia – that’s
an enticing, high-stakes premise, and one that was arresting to He-Man fans in
1987. And while we know that the film has some serious problems (those may well
be what you remember about the film most strongly), it also does a number of
things extremely well, both in terms of David Odell’s script and the final
product that Goddard presents to us.
For one thing, the villains are handled with excellence. Here
we have an imposing, menacing, powerful Skeletor, one far removed from his
somewhat comical cartoon counterpart (whom I absolutely love, don’t get me
wrong), and who has plenty of choice lines. The relationship arc between Skeletor
and Evil-Lyn is understated, yet compelling. Just about all the scenes set on
Eternia are engaging and entertaining – even with only the scant glimpses of
that world the film affords us, it’s an immersive setting.
Yet this is also a film that spends half its time on Earth –
its entire middle act – subjecting us to the awkward high-school romance
between Courteney Cox and Robert Duncan McNeill and the inane scripting of
McNeill’s and James Tolkan’s characters. That certainly holds the film back,
partly because that’s not what we came to see and partly because it’s not well
done.
There are also a bunch of little niggling plot and editing
issues – the sort that one tries to overlook but which can take their toll; a
few of these are on Odell, but most are on Goddard. Where were the cops the
whole time Skeletor’s forces were on their rampage? Where were the people in
the town? Why does Lubic pump his shotgun every time he’s on camera? How,
exactly, do you send somebody back in time to a point where the past version of
them already exists (kidnapping?)? Why did Karg say “Find the key” in Gwildor’s
house when he didn’t know there was a
key? Why would Goddard use a shot where He-Man’s sword and cape fall right off
him? Given the rib scene, has some kind of long-running vegetarian movement swept Eternia? Why did Lieutenant Paris throw all that trash into the sink? Et cetera
and et cetera, although most of the ones I haven’t mentioned (and a few that I
have) are pretty easy to forgive if
one is so inclined.
The action scenes are adequate at best. First off, there’s
way too much blaster fighting (and who wants to see a blaster-fighting He-Man?).
In the finest Star Wars tradition,
all the bad guys are horrible shots – and in fairness, all the good guys are
too: you won’t find more blue and red lasers missing their marks anywhere but
the old G.I. Joe cartoon. And it doesn’t
help that the less-than-mind-blowing climactic showdown was filmed during a
quick emergency shoot after primary filming had been shut down.
All things considered, though, given the cast, the script,
the production timetable, and everything else, Goddard does a more than decent
job as director – and as a first-time (and only-time) director, no less. As we
hinted at above, there are more noticeable editing issues here than in your
average film, but Goddard chooses his shots well enough and tells the story
pretty efficiently.
But here is another problem: Goddard is trying to make a New Gods story, a tribute to Jack Kirby
and his Fourth World stories. Meanwhile,
the opening to Bill Conti’s title theme is trying to be John Williams’ from Superman (although beyond those first
few derivative bars, Conti’s score is actually quite good). Skeletor’s
stormtroopers are trying to be black-painted Star Wars troopers, and his vehicles are trying to fit into Return of the Jedi. Add all that up and
it often seems that the one thing nobody’s trying very hard to do is make a He-Man movie.
And here is another strength: the cast is actually pretty
good. Frank Langella is a mesmerizing Skeletor, delivering some classic lines
with menace and gusto. I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that Langella
taking his role seriously and giving us the Skeletor he does is the film’s
greatest strength. Second only to him is Meg Foster, an ideal Evil-Lyn, who
does an excellent job in the role and has good chemistry with Langella. Billy
Barty does underratedly fine work, as always, and Jon Cypher is a perfectly
adequate Man-At-Arms (Chelsea Field is decent as Teela, too; the film just
doesn’t do enough with her for it to matter much).
And then there’s Dolph Lundgren, who certainly looks the
part of He-Man. He’s earnest and, as He-Man, likeable enough, but he also frequently
has trouble delivering his lines with the requisite inflection and emotion to
make them believable. In his defense, he doesn’t have the best dialogue to work
with, but when he shares the screen with Langella, he’s really outclassed, and
the end result is a serviceable but bland He-Man who doesn’t have much in the
way of a personality or sense of humor, and who stands in distinct contrast to
the Filmation version. I clearly remember being in the theater at the tender
age of six and being completely underwhelmed by his “I have the power!” (in
fairness, it’s not terrible, but it does also make me think of this). One wonders what
might have been if they had dubbed him with John Erwin (holy smokes, there’s a
very good chance that would have been completely awesome).
There’s also James Tolkan, who dominates every scene with
the sheer force of how annoying he makes his character. Courteney Cox and
Robert Duncan McNeill are fine, but again, we don’t really care about their
characters or story.
The art design, like just about everything else with this
movie, is a mixed bag. Visually, the unequivocal star of the film is the Castle
Grayskull throne room, which is a gargantuan, magnificent set piece, and which
sets the visual tone for the entire film. And to his credit, production
designer William Stout does an excellent job of giving us a distinct, unique
world with its own identity and plenty of character, and of tying together the
costumes (tights and intricate spaulders for everybody, with nary a furry brief
in sight, although that’s only the surface of it) and establishing a visual
connection between He-Man and Grayskull.
But Stout was (and is) wantonly unrepentant of his disdain for
the source material. Some characters, notably Skeletor and Evil-Lyn, look quite
good: they’re done in Stout’s style, but at the same time, they’re logical
live-action adaptations of the toys. Man-At-Arms and the Sorceress are
somewhere in between: adequately recognizable, but different enough to be
annoying to the movie-going youngster of 1987. And then there’s He-Man (Teela,
too). With the tiny leather straps and the pointless cape, the film He-Man
actually ends up in a getup that’s even more unlikely (and, somehow, more scanty)
than the original. More to the point, he doesn’t look like He-Man, and his sword doesn’t look like the Power Sword. It all
works well enough within the context of the film, but in 1987, this was not the He-Man we wanted to see.
A quick side note: if, like me, you saw this film as a
child, you probably wondered not only what happened to He-Man’s battle harness
with the cross, but also what the heck that little round thing they replaced it
with was supposed to be. Well, it’s an Eastern-style dragon, the same one
that’s so prominently featured on Castle Grayskull’s throne room doors (He-Man
also has one clipped to his belt) (click the picture to enlarge):
A big part of this film not trying hard to be a He-Man movie
is the cast of supporting characters (the Eternian ones, I mean). Foundational characters like Orko and Battle Cat are missing, but that’s easily
understandable given the budget and special effects limitations of the day (and
honestly, Gwildor is a more than capable Orko substitute).
But for no good reason whatsoever (yes, you can say that selling
toys is a good reason, but Karg never got a toy and we still had to put up with
him), Skeletor has all new henchmen, although if one squints, one can perhaps
divine analogues of the old ones. The Beastman, for example, could be the Beast
Man of the cartoon, if the Beast Man of the cartoon were a samurai Klingon
Grizzlor who was incapable of speech. Likewise, with his hook arm, Karg could
be Trap Jaw, if Trap Jaw were a bat crossed with the Golden Girls. Following
this line of reasoning, I suppose that Blade would be Tri-Klops and Saurod
would be Kobra Khan. (A note on Saurod: it’s too bad that we never got to find
out whether he would have turned out to be cool – probably he would have; he
was the only one with the stones to stand up to Skeletor (then again, that’s
what got him killed).)
Furthermore, this is a film that features only seven
characters from the cartoon (if we count “the Beastman”), only seven with action figures prior to the film’s
production. This is a film in which those hallowed words, “By the power of
Grayskull!” are never uttered, in which no transformation takes place, in which
Prince Adam is never seen. In fact, the surprise discovery of the ancient
American space expedition to Eternia, which was cut from the film but included
in the comic book adaptation, is explicit evidence against the existence of
Queen Marlena and, by implication, of Prince Adam (it’s also the logical and necessary
explanation for how He-Man and company can go to Earth and find people of the
same race speaking the same language).
Now, objectively, consider the following: while the film
fails abjectly in adapting the mythology of the cartoon (rather, it doesn’t
bother to try), it actually fits in exceptionally well with the pre-Filmation
mythos. Go back and look at the mini-comics from 1981 and 1982 and the books
from 1983: except for the two-halves-of-the-Power-Sword business, the film’s
world and story fit in just fine. The only problem with this is, again, that
when we went to the theater in 1987, the pre-Filmation mythos just isn’t what
we were expecting – or wanting – to see.
But now, twenty-five years later, it’s considerably easier
to be more favorably disposed toward this movie, to meet it on its own terms.
And in doing so, I find it to be an adequate eighties fantasy/action movie with
compelling villains and a pretty impressive visual theme. To my mind, on the
balance, it comes out as more good than bad, if barely. And it must be said
that in the realm of toy- and cartoon-based movies, you can certainly do quite
a bit worse.
Therefore, with all this in mind, I submit that while it
definitely wasn’t the He-Man film we wanted in 1987, Masters of the Universe is both a passable film and a passable He-Man film.
I give it a 6.
