The Mummy (1999) – Review

There was a time when Universal’s monsters were tragic figures draped in shadows and existential misery. Then 1999 happened, and suddenly The Mummy decided brooding was overrated and explosions were more fun. The result is a film that gleefully ditches the doom and gloom of 1932 in favour of a rollicking, wisecracking adventure that feels like it downed three espressos and ran straight into the desert.

We begin in ancient Thebes, 1290 BC, because nothing says “light adventure romp” like ritualistic betrayal and eternal curses. Pharaoh Seti I walks in on his high priest Imhotep (Arnold Vosloo) having an affair with his mistress Anck-su-namun (Patricia Velásquez), which goes about as well as you’d expect for everyone involved except the audience. Murder happens, she kills herself for dramatic flair, and Imhotep tries to resurrect her, only to be caught by the Medjai and sentenced to the cinematic equivalent of “absolutely not.” He’s buried alive with flesh-eating scarabs, cursed for eternity, and everyone vows to never let this incredibly bad idea happen again.

Humanity will, of course, immediately fail at that.

Jump ahead to 1926 Cairo, where librarian Evelyn Carnahan (Rachel Weisz) somehow manages to be both brilliant and catastrophically clumsy. Her brother Jonathan (John Hannah), a walking bad decision, brings her a mysterious box and a map to the lost city of Hamunaptra, which he stole from Rick O’Connell (Brendan Fraser), currently enjoying prison life. Evelyn frees Rick through a combination of charm and questionable negotiations with a corrupt warden, because clearly the best person to guide you through cursed ruins is a guy who already barely survived them once.

It also helps if he’s a bit of a beefcake.

They head into the desert and run into a competing group of Americans, because colonial treasure hunting apparently works better as a group sport. These geniuses are guided by Beni Gabor (Kevin J. O’Connor), Rick’s former colleague and current embodiment of cowardice. The Medjai, led by Ardeth Bay (Oded Fehr), show up to warn everyone to leave, which is treated with the seriousness of a “do not touch” sign at a museum. Naturally, both expeditions start digging. The Americans find the Book of the Dead and some jars, while Evelyn’s group finds Imhotep’s remains, which should have come with a massive “please don’t read anything out loud” disclaimer.

That is one juicy mummy.

Evelyn, proving that literacy can be dangerous, reads from the Book of the Dead and resurrects Imhotep. Chaos follows. Imhotep hunts down those who opened the chest, unleashes plagues, and generally turns Cairo into his personal horror show while rebuilding himself piece by piece. The group learns that he plans to resurrect Anck-su-namun using Evelyn as a human sacrifice, because clearly, she hasn’t done enough already. After losing allies, including Dr. Bey (Erick Avari), they return to Hamunaptra with pilot Winston Havelock (Bernard Fox), who dies in a sandstorm because this movie collects side characters like trading cards.

A signature moment in the film.

Back at the city, everything escalates into supernatural mayhem. Jonathan and Rick retrieve the Book of Amun-Ra, Ardeth fights off undead minions, and Evelyn is prepped for ritual sacrifice. In a rare moment of competence, the heroes actually pull off a plan: Evelyn makes Imhotep mortal, Rick stabs him, and the ancient priest dramatically dissolves while promising revenge, because villains are contractually obligated to do so. Meanwhile, Beni loots treasure, triggers a trap, and gets devoured by scarabs in one of the most deserved deaths in adventure cinema. The survivors escape as the city collapses, unknowingly carrying off some of Ben’s looted gold on the way out.

A nice ride off into the sunset.

Stray Observations:

• Evelyn reads from an ancient cursed book out loud without understanding it. This is the academic equivalent of pressing every button in a nuclear submarine to “see what happens.”
• The Medjai repeatedly warn everyone to leave, and everyone collectively decides, “No, I think we’ll stay and die.”
• Beni switches sides so often he should come with a rotating loyalty indicator.
• Rick survives multiple supernatural encounters, gunfights, and a plane crash, but somehow still trusts anyone in this movie.
• The prison warden had agreed to release a dangerous inmate for treasure. Shockingly, this ends poorly for him.
• Jonathan accidentally saves the day while mostly trying not to die, which might be the most relatable character arc here.
• Beni gets eaten alive by scarabs while clutching gold. If greed had a mascot, it’s this guy.
• When being hunted by an all-powerful Egyptian mummy, it’s very important to be surrounded by the right kind of people.

This group is par excellence. 

Getting this film made was apparently its own cursed adventure. At various points, Universal flirted with wildly different tones. Clive Barker envisioned a darker, low-budget horror take, which would have leaned heavily into the grotesque. Then George Romero, because why not add zombies to everything, had his own version that pushed it into straight horror territory. Somewhere along the way, sanity or at least box office logic prevailed, and Stephen Sommers stepped in with the radical idea that audiences might enjoy having fun. His pitch leaned into the spirit of Indiana Jones and the mythic spectacle of Jason and the Argonauts, and suddenly the film had a pulse.

“Is the Ark of the Covenant in here?”

That tonal pivot is the film’s secret weapon. It’s a captivating blend of adventure, horror, and comedy that somehow balances all three without collapsing under the weight of its own ambition. The pacing is relentless in the best way, jumping from chase to battle to supernatural chaos while still finding time for sharp humour. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a roller coaster that occasionally pauses just long enough for a joke before dropping you again.

“It says here…we are all going to die horribly.”

Visually, the film leans heavily on CGI, which in 1999 was still figuring itself out, yet it manages to capture the energy of old-school effects. There’s a clear attempt to channel the spirit of Ray Harryhausen, especially in the creature work and large-scale spectacle. The sand effects, the regenerating Imhotep, and the swarming scarabs might show their age in spots, but they still have a tactile, imaginative quality that keeps them engaging. The blend of practical sets, costumes, and digital work creates a world that feels lived-in rather than sterile.

This is great fantasy adventure stuff.

Then there’s the cast, which frankly, is what really holds this movie together. Brendan Fraser’s Rick O’Connell is the perfect adventure hero, equal parts rugged and self-aware, with just enough humour to keep him from becoming insufferable. It’s almost painful to imagine the alternate universe where Tom Cruise took the role and turned it into something far more intense and far less fun. Rachel Weisz is fantastic as Evelyn, giving the character intelligence, vulnerability, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.

Rachel Weisz is a dream walking.

John Hannah’s Jonathan is comic relief done properly, never overstaying his welcome and somehow always landing the joke without feeling like a walking punchline. Then Kevin J. O’Connor shows up as Beni and decides moderation is for other people, nearly stealing the film outright. Beni is gloriously, unapologetically slimy, the sort of man who would betray his own reflection if it hesitated too long, yet O’Connor plays him with such twitchy, weaselly enthusiasm that he becomes impossible to dislike. You know he deserves whatever horrible fate is coming, but there’s still a part of you hoping he wriggles out of it. Every cowardly betrayal, every desperate, multilingual plea for mercy just makes him more entertaining, as he happily digs himself into a deeper and more ridiculous hole.

Beni, the ultimate sidekick whom you love to hate.

And then there’s Arnold Vosloo, who clearly missed the memo that everyone else was in a breezy adventure and decided to star in a full-on supernatural horror film instead. He plays Imhotep with absolute seriousness, never winking at the audience, never leaning into the absurdity, and that choice is exactly what makes the character work. While the heroes are busy trading quips and dodging danger with a grin, Vosloo moves through the film like an ancient force of nature, calm, deliberate, and genuinely menacing.

Historic Note: Turns out Hollywood played fast and loose with about…all of Egyptian history. The real Imhotep wasn’t a cursed, vengeance-fuelled priest but a brilliant architect behind Djoser’s pyramid around 2600 BC, later revered almost like a god. Meanwhile, the film mashes him together with Pharaoh Seti I (who lived roughly 1,300 years later) and Anck-su-namun, who actually belonged to King Tut’s era, because historical accuracy clearly got lost somewhere in the sandstorm.

I’d come back from the dead for Anck-su-namun.

Stephen Sommers’ The Mummy is what happens when a studio accidentally makes the exact right decision. It abandons the sombre tragedy of its predecessor and embraces spectacle, humour, and unapologetic adventure, creating something that feels both modern and nostalgically old-fashioned. The film’s ability to balance thrilling action, supernatural horror, and genuinely funny character dynamics gives it a timeless quality that many effects-heavy blockbusters still struggle to achieve. Backed by a charismatic cast, inventive visuals, and a tone that understands exactly what it wants to be, 1999’s The Mummy remains a standout example of how to revive a classic property without suffocating it under reverence.

The Mummy Returns (2001) – Review

Sequels are supposed to build on success, not immediately sprint off a cliff with more money and less restraint, but here we are. The Mummy Returns takes everything that worked in the 1999 film and inflates it until it wheezes under its own excess. It’s louder, busier, and somehow less fun, like a party that hired twice the guests and forgot the music.

Seven years after the first film, Stephen Sommers decides the best way to continue this story is to give Rick and Evelyn a kid and crank the mythology dial to “nonsense.” So we open in 3067 B.C., where a doomed warrior (Dwayne Johnson) cuts a deal with Anubis for power, because apparently Hollywood still thinks every ancient god is just Satan with better branding. Now dubbed the Scorpion King, this warrior is given an army of jackal soldiers, conquers Egypt, and then gets dragged to the underworld like a cosmic unpaid intern who finished the job and got fired anyway.

He clearly didn’t read his contract.

Jump to 1933, where Rick (Brendan Fraser) and Evelyn (Rachel Weisz) are now globe-trotting parents dragging their son Alex (Freddie Boath) through ancient ruins, because nothing says responsible parenting like booby-trapped tombs. They discover the Bracelet of Anubis, which immediately latches onto Alex’s wrist and turns him into a walking GPS for apocalypse locations. Back in London, a cult resurrects Imhotep (Arnold Vosloo), who is now less “ancient terror” and more “guy who keeps getting hired despite declining performance reviews.” Their plan is to use him to defeat the Scorpion King and control Anubis’s army, because villains in this universe only understand escalation.

“Step one: Acquire a Jackal Army. Step Two: Profit.”

Evelyn gets kidnapped, because of course she does, and Rick assembles the usual crew, including Jonathan (John Hannah) and Ardeth Bay (Oded Fehr), to rescue her. Along the way, the film starts piling on plot threads like it’s afraid of silence. Evelyn turns out to be the reincarnation of Princess Nefertiri, Rick is apparently some chosen warrior, and Alex becomes the most competent person in the movie despite being eight. Meanwhile, Imhotep regains his girlfriend Anck-su-namun (Patricia Velasquez), who has been reincarnated as one of the cult leaders, because toxic relationships apparently transcend death and common sense.

“My dear, try not to fail so badly this time out.”

Things spiral into full chaos at the oasis of Ahm Shere, where dirigibles crash, pygmy mummies swarm, and the remaining cult members drop like flies. The movie barrels forward at such a pace that it forgets to make any of this feel meaningful. Characters run, shout, and occasionally remember they’re supposed to care about each other, all while the plot keeps layering in new mythology like a desperate student padding an essay.

They may as well have booked passage on the Hindenburg.

Inside the pyramid, the final act turns into a full-blown CGI carnival. Evelyn dies and is resurrected, Jonathan accidentally becomes useful, and Rick fights the Scorpion King, now rendered as a giant digital monstrosity that looks about as threatening as Bowser from Super Mario. Imhotep, watching Rick and Evelyn actually care about each other, realizes his own relationship is built on sand and betrayal, and promptly gives up on existence. It’s the closest thing the film has to an emotional beat, which is both surprising and a little sad.

Once again, our heroes ride off into the sunset.

Stray Observations:

• Bringing your eight-year-old into ancient tombs filled with death traps is apparently just a quirky family activity now.
• Ardeth Bay declares Rick, Evy, and Alex are “three sides of the pyramid” destined to fulfill a prophecy. Pyramids, famously, have four sides. Close enough, I guess.
• If the Medjai tribes number in the thousands and are sworn to protect against this exact scenario, it raises the question of how a full excavation team casually dug up Hamunaptra in the first place.
• Everyone agrees the bracelet is incredibly dangerous, impossible to remove, and central to unleashing an army of doom. No one considers melting it down. Problem solved, apocalypse cancelled.
• That solid gold bracelet clamped onto Alex’s arm should weigh a ton. Either this kid has the forearm strength of a dockworker or the laws of physics took the day off.
• The villains’ master plan relies heavily on resurrecting a guy who already failed spectacularly once. Bold strategy.
• Imhotep relies on the bracelet to locate the Scorpion King’s oasis, yet the valley is already littered with the remains of Roman soldiers, Napoleon’s army, and various other explorers who clearly didn’t need it. So… how hidden is this place, really?
• If Evelyn is the reincarnation of Nefertiri, and Imhotep served her father, it’s odd that he didn’t recognize her at all in the first film. You’d think that would come up.
• Rick, secretly being some chosen guardian figure, comes out of nowhere and adds absolutely nothing.
• Jonathan accidentally holding the key to everything is funny once, then the movie keeps insisting it’s a character trait.
• The sai used by Nefertiri and Anck-Su-Namun never existed in ancient Egypt. It originated in Okinawa centuries later. Apparently, the film’s research department confused “looks cool” with “historically accurate.”

It does lead to this fun scene, so I’ll give it a pass.

Universal fast-tracked the sequel after the first film’s success, and you can feel it in every frame. Sommers reportedly started developing ideas within a day, which sounds impressive until you watch the result and realize maybe a week of thinking wouldn’t have killed anyone. The film is bloated with mythology that contradicts itself, piles on unnecessary backstory, and rewrites its own characters into something flatter. Rick and Evelyn go from charming adventurers to destiny-bound archetypes, stripped of the spontaneity that made them work. And when has adding a kid to an adventure ever been a bonus?

“I’d like to feed you to some CGI pygmies.”

The visual effects deserve their own public trial. The first film balanced practical effects and CGI well enough to maintain some illusion of weight and danger. Here, the digital effects take over completely, and not in a good way. Everything looks glossy, artificial, and detached from reality. The creatures lack presence, the action lacks impact, and the infamous Scorpion King is the crown jewel of bad decisions. It genuinely looks like something rendered for a PlayStation 2 cutscene, and not a particularly good one. It’s hard to feel tension when your villain looks like he might glitch through the floor.

This is just embarrassing.

The returning cast does what they can, which is more than the script deserves. Brendan Fraser still brings that likeable, roguish energy, and Rachel Weisz tries to sell the absurd reincarnation angle with commitment. Both she and Patricia Velasquez reportedly trained extensively in martial arts to handle the more physical roles, and it shows, even if the narrative justification for it is nonsense. John Hannah, once a highlight, is pushed into overdrive and becomes more grating than funny. Then there’s Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, whose brief appearance as the Scorpion King is actually a plus, at least in concept. He has presence, even if the CGI version of him later on looks like it’s fighting for its life.

And why Imhotep does “Jazz Hands” remains a mystery.

As a sequel, this is where things really fall apart. It doesn’t build on the original so much as it replaces its core identity with something louder and less focused. The 1999 film worked because it balanced adventure, horror, and humour with a sense of restraint. This one ditches restraint entirely and leans into spectacle at the expense of character, tone, and coherence. Compared to earlier Mummy films, even the classic Universal entries understood the value of atmosphere and simplicity. The Mummy Returns just keeps adding until it collapses under its own weight.

No one bothered to ask, “Do we really need CGI pygmies?”

And then there’s the mythology. The film’s treatment of Anubis is especially irritating. He’s not some devil figure handing out evil armies to anyone with a dramatic monologue. In Egyptian mythology, Anubis is a guardian, a judge, a protector of the dead. Turning him into a bargain-bin dark lord feels less like creative liberty and more like someone couldn’t be bothered to read a basic summary. It’s lazy, and it drags the whole premise down with it.

Both Anubis and Hades need to get better agents.

In conclusion, The Mummy Returns is what happens when a studio confuses “more” with “better.” It throws bigger action, louder set pieces, and heavier mythology at the screen, but forgets the charm, chemistry, and balance that made the first film work. The characters are flattened into destiny-driven clichés, the humour feels forced, and the visual effects age about as well as milk left in the sun. There are still flashes of fun, mostly thanks to the cast trying to hold things together, but they’re buried under a bloated, chaotic script that never finds its footing. It’s not unwatchable, but it’s exhausting, and that’s arguably worse for a film that’s supposed to be an adventure.

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (2008) – Review

By the time The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor rolled around, the franchise was already wheezing, but few could have predicted a collapse this spectacular. What was once a lively blend of adventure, humour, and charm has been reduced to a loud, overstuffed spectacle that mistakes noise for excitement. This isn’t a grand finale, it’s a cinematic yard sale where someone tossed out all the good parts and kept the broken junk.

The film opens in ancient China, where warlord Qin Shi Huang (Jet Li) does the whole “unify the land through fear and violence” thing, because subtle leadership is apparently for cowards. Obsessed with cheating death, he sends sorceress Zi Yuan (Michelle Yeoh) and his loyal General Ming Guo (Russell Wong) off to find the secret of immortality. Naturally, they fall in love, because nothing says “mission success” like betraying your tyrannical boss. Qin responds like any emotionally stable ruler would, executing Ming and wounding Yuan out of spite, prompting her to curse him and his army into becoming the world’s angriest pottery exhibit.

Simply put, you don’t cross Michelle Yeoh.

Cut to 1946, where Alex O’Connell (Luke Ford), who has somehow aged into a man only slightly younger than his own parents, discovers the Dragon Emperor’s tomb alongside his professor, Roger Wilson (David Calder). They get attacked by a mysterious woman, because this franchise runs on ambushes, the way cars run on fuel, but still manage to haul the sarcophagus to Shanghai. Meanwhile, Rick (Brendan Fraser) and Evelyn (Maria Bello) are dragged out of semi-retirement by the British government to retrieve the Eye of Shangri-La, a mystical MacGuffin that does whatever the plot needs it to do at any given moment. The family reunion in Shanghai reveals that Wilson is working with General Yang (Anthony Chau-Sang Wong), who believes resurrecting an ancient tyrant is the best way to stabilize post-war China, a plan that definitely won’t backfire spectacularly.

Hey, look, more bad guys!

The Emperor is revived, immediately kills Wilson for being expendable, and sets off on his quest for ultimate power. The O’Connells attempt to stop him, joined by Lin (Isabella Leong), the dagger-wielding guardian who apparently spent centuries waiting for the exact worst possible moment to intervene. Their journey leads them to the Himalayas, because no Mummy movie is complete without a sudden change in geography that makes you wonder if someone spun a globe and pointed. Along the way, they enlist the help of yetis, because why not? While the Emperor gains increasingly ridiculous powers, including shapeshifting into a three-headed dragon, because why stop at one bad idea when you can stack them?

If you need to get rid of a three-headed dragon, call Godzilla.

Things escalate toward Shangri-La, where Zi Yuan has been hanging out for centuries, apparently guarding magical waters and not asking many questions about her life choices. Rick gets mortally wounded, only to be healed by the same mystical waters the villain is chasing, because tension is optional. The Emperor becomes even more powerful, kidnaps Lin, and resurrects his Terracotta Army for world domination, because, well, that’s a thing villains do. The final battle at the Great Wall involves undead armies, sacrificial magic, and a lot of CGI chaos, culminating in Rick and Alex defeating the Emperor with the conveniently magical dagger, restoring peace and ensuring Jonathan (John Hannah) can wander off to Peru for what the film hopes you’ll interpret as a cheeky sequel tease rather than a cry for help.

“We may have to wait a couple of decades for a sequel.”

Stray Observations:

• Lin carries the only dagger that can kill the Emperor and spends centuries…not using it. Guard duty apparently forbids basic problem-solving.
• The mystical rules governing immortality, resurrection, and elemental powers feel like they were written on a napkin five minutes before filming.
• The age gap between Rick, Evy, and Alex makes the family dynamic feel like a math problem no one checked.
• The villains need a special device to locate Shangri-La, so the heroes…don’t destroy it. Explosives are used strictly for dramatic avalanches.
• The Emperor can control the five elements, transform into a dragon, and become a giant ogre, but still struggles against a couple of archaeologists and their adult son.
• Jet Li and Michelle Yeoh share minimal screen combat, which feels like hiring two master chefs and asking them to microwave leftovers.
• The yetis fight like they’re auditioning for a sports broadcast rather than defending a sacred realm?

There is silly, and there is a yeti signalling a field goal kind of silly.

After going through numerous script changes and hoping lightning might strike a third time, the production found itself without Stephen Sommers, who wisely stepped away, noting that the first two films had already come together and that third entries are notoriously difficult. Translation: he saw the iceberg and chose not to be on the ship. Universal handed the reins to Rob Cohen, a director whose filmography suggests competence without personality, and that’s exactly what he delivers. The result is a film that feels assembled rather than crafted, ticking off action beats without any sense of rhythm, pacing, or soul. The third time wasn’t the charm; it was the moment the franchise forgot why it worked in the first place.

Character first, spectacle second.

The writing, courtesy of Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, operates under the baffling assumption that more equals better. More mythology, more powers, more locations, more characters, more noise. What it lacks is coherence. The original film balanced horror, humour, and romance with surprising finesse; this one just hurls plot points at the screen and hopes you’re too distracted to notice none of them stick. It’s cinematic sleight of hand, except the magician keeps dropping the cards.

Note: Cohen dares to show us the beautifully verdant valley of Shangri-La, but doesn’t let us or the characters actually go there. That’s just cruel.

On the visual effects front, Rhythm & Hues Studios and Digital Domain do what they can, but there’s only so much polish you can apply to a fundamentally misguided concept. The CGI isn’t offensively bad across the board, but it rarely convinces. When it leans into spectacle, like the Emperor’s various transformations or the yeti brawl, it crosses into unintentional comedy. It’s not the outright disaster of the Scorpion King, but that’s less a compliment and more a reminder that the bar was already buried underground.

So, yeah, this is a definite step up from the Scorpion King.

The cast is…problematic. Brendan Fraser and John Hannah return, doing their best to recapture the charm that once defined the series, though even they seem aware they’re fighting a losing battle. Maria Bello steps in as Evelyn, replacing Rachel Weisz, who declined to return, reportedly uninterested in playing the mother of a twenty-one-year-old, which is fair because the film barely understands that dynamic itself. Oded Fehr also opted out, unhappy with the removal of the Imhotep element, a decision that strips the film of its most compelling villain archetype. Jet Li and Michelle Yeoh bring undeniable presence, but the film squanders them, reducing two legendary performers to underwritten roles and missed opportunities.

“Michelle, let’s run off and star in a better movie.”

In conclusion, The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor feels less like a continuation and more like a contractual obligation stretched to feature length. Everything that once made the series engaging, the chemistry, the wit, the sense of adventure, has been replaced with generic action and overcooked spectacle. Watching it, you can practically hear the gears grinding as the film tries to convince you it’s still fun, still exciting, still worth your time. It isn’t. It’s a reminder that franchises don’t die with dignity, they just keep going until someone finally pulls the plug, and even then, they’re probably eyeing a reboot.

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.