Hollywood is sweeping the corners on ’80s nostalgia, which in this case means that the long-promised, eternally developed, not necessarily requested, semi-live-action remake of Masters of the Universe has finally come to fruition, playing in theaters this weekend via Amazon/MGM, before it hits Prime Video at some unspecified point in the future. Though it’s based on a fantasy cartoon and comic book series that itself was reverse-engineered from a line of action figures featuring the elegantly named He-Man, Masters of the Universe is notable for being a well-recognized property (at least among older millennials and younger Gen Xers) that has nonetheless never actually succeeded in the live-action realm before.

This is not to say they haven’t tried: In 1987, Cannon Films put out its own Masters of the Universe movie, released a bit past the franchise’s peak, in the waning years of the original toy line – more of a Hail Mary in hopes of boosting toy sales rather than a capitalization of He-Mania. For the curious, the old version is now streaming on both Prime Video and Tubi. Dolph Lundgren plays Prince Adam, also (and in the movie, primarily) known as He-Man, warrior from the planet of Eternia, forever at odds with the evil wizard Skeletor (Frank Langella, the only multiple Tony winner in the primary cast). When Skeletor takes over the good guys’ Castle Grayskull in order to rule Eternia, an and his allies Teela (Chelsea Field), Man-at-Arms (Jon Cypher), and the diminutive locksmith Gwildor (Billy Barty) temporarily flee through a portal to our world. There, they somewhat inexplicably become involved with teenage couple Julie (Courtney Cox, the second SAG award winner in the primary cast) and Kevin (Robert Ducan McNeill).

It is all, to coin a cliché, “very ’80s,” in all ways except its generation of revenue, which was something out of more austere times. Like several other fantasy movies produced throughout the decade in the wake of Star Wars, Masters of the Universe was a box office flop. Ultimately, it made less at the box office than 1985’s animated The Care Bears Movie, though it could at least lay claim to a decisive victory over its fellow 1987 release The Care Bears Adventure in Wonderland. Even if the new movie underperforms, it is almost certain to outgross the $50 million adjusted for inflation notched by the 1987 version, despite being decades removed from He-Man’s commercial peak. So how did such a consummate ’80s project fail to launch during the actual ’80s?

Masters of the Universe was something of a branch-out for Cannon, better-known for its action and semi-exploitation movies than lavish fantasies. The opening credits and theme music of Masters broadly recall a discount Star Wars, sure, as do the shiny uniforms of the laser-blasting stormtroopers commanded by Skeletor. But the music even more closely recalls another John Williams score: the theme for Superman, who was an unexpected Cannon stablemate in 1987. Though Warner Bros. continued as distributor for Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, Cannon produced the film, released just two weeks before Masters of the Universe. It was more successful, but not by a hell of a lot, especially considering the series’ past triumphs, and Superman IV is still known as the cheapest, weakest entry of the original four. Cannon was getting into the big-budget fantasy game just in time for the skinflint versions to look especially behind the times. The world was four years out from Return of the Jedi – the spoof Spaceballs was also in theaters, sending Star Wars up and off – and the biggest summer movies were action/cop movies like Beverly Hills Cop II and The Untouchables. Fantasy, especially fantasy this chintzy, wasn’t especially in.

Today, there’s some inherent charm to precisely that chintziness – though the movie pushes its luck by having so much of it set on cost-effective Earth, rather than the fantastical land of Eternia. You can see the reasoning, beyond budgetary concerns: Bringing He-Man and his friends to our world differentiates the story from the cartoon, and makes it feel more like the characters are coming to “real” life, even though the narrative isn’t literally about a cartoon character becoming flesh. But despite taking up a lot of (presumably budget-friendly) screentime, the teenage-couple plot never effectively dovetails with the He-Man story, and Lundgren seems particularly checked-out. (He has cited this as one of his less beloved experiences making movies.).

The new Masters of the Universe movie both winks at and revels in its ’80s-ness; though it’s set in contemporary times, at least in its (far fewer) Earth scenes, the soundtrack is chockablock with referential period hits, the color scheme is brighter and more intentionally garish than a lot of current blockbusters, and the whole aesthetic of the cartoon is lovingly preserved, to the extent that it can be. The 1987 film, of course, comes by that aesthetic more honestly, as well as much more cheaply. That gives it an automatic nostalgic kick even for those of us with don’t know He-Man from Adam; it’s just the sight of fantastical costumes and creature-y make-up that hits a pleasure center of old-fashioned tactility. It’s transparently a pageant, and while the new movie is more coherent, prettier to look at, and better-acted (although: no multi-Tony winners!), it’s also puffed up with knowing fandom.

That’s really the difference between 1987 and now: In 1987, a live-action Masters of the Universe movie was very obviously a crass commercial space-filler, made in hopes of goosing toy sales, video rentals, and maybe a future sequel. That’s all part of the new movie, too, as it is for so many summer blockbusters, but we’re expected to take it far more seriously as a movie with “heart” or whatever. For all the ways that Masters of the Universe ’87 looks careless and slipshod now, it’s got plenty in common with modern blockbusters where it counts; it even has a post-credits scene, relatively rare for its time, with Skeletor promising his imminent return. (Turned out, it took a while.) Maybe filmmakers and audiences, or at least the Xennial core for this kind of movie, haven’t actually gotten more sophisticated to demand more from a Masters of the Universe movie. Maybe that’s just a sign that they’re demanding less at far greater expense.

Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. In addition to contributing at Decider, his work also appears regularly at The A.V. Club, The Guardian, and GQ, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.

Stream Masters of the Universe on Tubi