Fun is front and center in this Universe
Realizing their mistake in passing up the opportunity to license toys for a little movie named Star Wars, the suits at Mattel charged their head designer, Roger Sweet, with coming up with something to rival George Lucas’ universe. Released in 1982, the result was Masters of the Universe, a sword-and-sorcery fantasy line that consisted of characters who had little in the way of backstory but had a distinctive visual style that appealed to kids and resulted in sales of over 125 million in the first three years. A series of mini-comics that would appear in later toy series sketched in a backstory regarding the mythical land Eternia, a magic talisman called the Power Sword and the battle for both that raged between the line’s hero and villain, He-Man and Skeletor, respectively.
I mention all of this not simply to get the uneducated – of which I was one – up to speed but also because the simplistic nature of Masters’ beginnings and storyline is one of the running gags in Travis Knight’s delightful new big-screen rendition. Tongues are planted so firmly in cheeks by everyone I wouldn’t be surprised if multiple cases of bruising of the buccal mucosa (yep, that’s a real thing) hadn’t occurred. Inexplicably, there are four writers credited to the screenplay, a pastiche of cliched action movie tropes and characters. And though that is overkill, obviously the mandate all were told to follow was to not take any of this too seriously and to have fun, which they succeed in doing, much to the delight of fans and newbies alike.
A prologue takes place in the kingdom of Eternia. The evil Skeletor (Jared Leto) has invaded this realm with the intent of obtaining the mystical Power Sword. With this, he will be able to become – you guessed it – master of the universe. However, King Randor (James Purefoy) and Queen Marlena (Charlotte Riley) send their young son, Adam, through a portal with the talisman before this can happen. The boy’s unfortunate fate is that he lands in Oklahoma City, losing the weapon in the process.
Events jump forward 15 years and we see Adam (Nicholas Galitzine) as a lost young man, trying to come to terms with his memories, which none of his Earth friends believe. Scouring the internet for clues as to the whereabouts of his sword, he tracks it down in a local comics shop. Upon attaining it, a signal is activated, prompting Princess Teela (Camila Mendes) to travel through dimensions to retrieve him. Upon returning to Eternia, he sees the kingdom has been laid to waste. While Teela and other Eternians expect Adam to save the day, he has doubts about his role and place in this battered world.
Not at home on Earth or Eternia, Adam is just one of many characters facing an existential crisis. The supporting characters, sporting names like “Fisto,” “Ram Man” and “Trap Jaw,” (the simplistic nature of these monikers is explained), have all forgotten who they are. Fierce warriors and proud citizens before the coming of Skeletor, they have now become servile under the despot’s rule and like Adam, must find the impetus to become who they once were.
The forming of one’s identity has been a core premise for myths, tall tales, legends and comic books from the beginning, always appealing to kids and teens coming to terms with who they are. Galitzine is very good at tapping into that, giving us a naïve, eager-to-please young man who stumbles as he tries to figure out if he’s worthy of the mantle of He-Man. The innocence he brings to the role and his relatability is key to our buying into the story.
The plot follows the standard beats of a summer action film, but thankfully there’s more than enough humor to make the familiar go down easy. Skeletor is portrayed as a third-rate ham actor with a flair for theatrics, his grandiose actions landing with a thud every time. This leaves him fuming and apoplectic, the unintentional humor stemming from this executed with marvelous effect. Whether it’s Leto in the suit or just providing the voice, I can’t say, but the end result is a scene-stealing character whose pop culture appeal I’m beginning to understand. Numerous sexual double entendres also provide a great many moments of humor, the sort I didn’t expect in a movie of this sort,
From the reactions of some in the preview screening I attended, those coming to the film familiar with the premise and characters will get more out of it than I did. Even I was able to pick up on a few Easter Eggs here and there, while the post credit scenes, of which there are three, make allusions to other characters and events that will likely be explored if a sequel is made.
Hopefully, this franchise will meet a better fate than that of the 2023 Dungeons and Dragons reboot which was similar in tone but criminally underseen. To be sure, there’s nothing new here, but as popcorn movies go, Masters is everything you want in a summer movie, a light-as-air good time that delivers more than expected. I mean, this thing has a green tiger? What other movie can make that claim? In Theaters.
Ballad a moving testament to the songs we sing
Validation and purpose are two of the most vital things that drive us. As most of us struggle through lives seemingly composed of mundane occurrences and numbing routine, we each need the occasional reminder that what we do means something, particularly by the ones we love. And while it’s not uncommon to feel taken for granted as you work your job, pay the bills and occasionally come up for air, the greater danger is being so wrapped up in your own woes that you overlook those that are traveling the same path as you.
John Carney’s Power Ballad focuses on a man who’s fallen into this trap. Hardly self-absorbed and a genuinely nice, courteous guy, a chance meeting has set him back on his heels, causing him to question decisions he’s made, playing a hopeless game of “what if …” that can only lead to disappointment and regret. While the vast majority of viewers will not be able to relate to the pop music setting Ballad takes place in, most will surely recognize its hero’s plight.
Though once on the cusp of international stardom, being the lead singer in the popular Irish wedding band “The Bride and Groove” has been a pretty good gig for Rick (Paul Rudd). He’s been able to keep his foot in the music game – albeit on the far periphery – and provide for his lovely wife (Marcella Plunkett) and daughter (Beth Fallon). It’s not everything he hoped for, but it’s enough.
That is, until he crosses paths with Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas), former member of a popular boy band. While playing a high-end gig, Wilson, a guest of the wedding party, sits in with the band. This leads to an all-night session in his room with Rick in which the fast friends noodle about, toss ideas at one another and end up writing a song together. The night ends, they part amicably and go their separate ways.
Rick doesn’t give any of this a second thought, until six months later when he hears the song wafting over the radio. Wilson has recorded it and used it as a comeback, the tune becoming so successful that it goes to number one on the charts, snags numerous Grammy nominations and is the impetus for a massive tour. Rick is apoplectic that he’s gotten no credit for his work and, even worse, his family and bandmates don’t believe his claims that he co-wrote a hit as massive and catchy as this.
Rudd’s likable, everyman quality is used to great effect as we can’t help but sympathize with and put ourselves in Rick’s shoes. As he wrestles with the injustice that’s befallen him, the actor is able to keep us in his corner despite the character’s ensuing self-absorbed and, at times, destructive behavior. The casting couldn’t be better, while Jonas does a fine job as well in a thankless role. To Carney and co-writer Peter McDonald’s credit, they don’t portray Wilson as a simple villain but rather a desperate man, tormented by expectations he may not be able to live up to. Fear is his motivator, as he looks at Rick, he sees his own fate if he’s unable to resuscitate his career. He realizes what he’s done is wrong and it’s to Jonas’ credit that we sympathize with him, if only for a short while.
And this speaks to the one fault in Carney and McDonald’s script. While Rick is the main character, the film would have been richer had as much time been spent delving into Wilson and his ever-growing guilt. At only 98 minutes, the movie could have easily included another scene or two focused on his internal battle and would have been the better for it.
As with all of Carney’s music-based movies, this is a heartfelt, effusive exercise in which the songs play a vital role in defining the characters. The main composition, “How to Write a Song without You,” changes in meaning as the film progresses, as each character who sings it interprets it differently. It’s final meaning(s) are brilliantly realized in the film’s last scene, one of the most moving sequences of the year, in which Rick and Wilson sing it simultaneously at two different locales. Carney cuts back and forth between them, each performers’ rendition serving as summation of where they are in their lives, while a key revelation occurs at a third locale.
Carney never disappoints, masterfully manipulating the audience to identify with his characters and feel his songs as they do. In the end, Ballad proves to be Rick’s personal odyssey as his doubts regarding his life choices lead to an exile of sorts. Only when he’s being reminded of what’s truly important to him does he see the path back home. Unashamedly romantic and sentimental, this is a poignant reminder that the lives we live are the songs we sing and if they are heard by those we love, that’s all the audience we ever need. In Theaters.
Vague Backrooms leads nowhere
There are some interesting ideas in Kane Parsons’ Backrooms, a low-budget sensation that’s bringing in big box office for its studio, A24 Films. Having generated buzz at various film festivals and based on a series of short films by its director, the movie raked in $81 million during the first weekend of its release. Whether that first wave of curious (gullible?) viewers will spread positive word-of-mouth remains to be seen. Unlike its genre rival Obsession, a far superior, more straight-forward film that’s defying expectations by seeing its grosses increase over subsequent weekends, Backrooms is awash in half-formed ideas and a frustrating degree of ambiguity that’s supposed to come off as arty and deep.
Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is a lost man, floundering through life. Saddled with debt and running a failing furniture store, he’s filled with rage over his wife having left him and his inability to realize his dream of becoming an architect. His therapist, Mary (Renate Reinsve) does her best to get him out of his rut but she’s also grappling with her own trauma, dealing with her mentally ill mother and the ramifications of a dysfunctional childhood.
Needless to say, things take an unexpected turn one day when Clark, trying to track down an electrical short in the basement of his store, walks through one of the walls. He emerges in a dirty yellow nightmare of seemingly endless rooms and mishapen doors, all dingy and worn, incessantly humming fluorescent lighting casting an abrasive pall over it all. Mary is incredulous when Clark shares the knowledge of his discovery at their next session, causing him to leave in anger, intent on finding proof. When days pass and he fails to return, she goes to the store to investigate and discovers the mysterious portal, passing through it in an effort to find him.
Parsons’ deliberate pacing is initially intriguing but ultimately proves taxing. Granted, his intent may be to place the viewer in his characters’ shoes but it’s an approach that backfires horribly, tedium setting in rather than a sense of terror or suspense. What with its winding, intersecting staircases and halls to nowhere, the production design is engaging to a certain extent, the drawings of M.C. Escher an obvious influence. As fascinating as it is, it too ultimately loses its appeal.
Much of the advice Mary provides relates to the “paths” we take in life, repeated patterns of behavior becoming traps. With this theme being mentioned repeatedly, it becomes apparent the titular location is Clark’s mind, an ouroboros like nightmare from which there is no escape. Experts in Freudian psychology will have a field day with the many metaphors that appear regarding the id, ego and super-ego, especially when an 8-foot-tall version of Clark appears, dressed as a pirate with overlarge eyes.
Credit the two leads for giving their all, neither of them holding back where conveying their characters’ trauma is concerned. Hyper-ventilating and wide-eyed looks of disbelief never played as well as they do here.
As for the conclusion, well let’s just say it’s an ending …of sorts. Just what Phil’s (Mark Duplass) role, a curious observer of this netherworld, is I can’t begin to tell you. Parsons has threatened us with sequels to his debut feature, stating he sees this as a franchise with endless possibilities. One might be to give us a film with more narrative meat to it than simply a collection of half-formed ideas. Backrooms may be tops at the box office for the moment. As for me, it reminds me of a certain emperor who was very proud of his new clothes. In Theaters.
This article appears in June 4-10, 2026.
