"Powers of the Universe"
I'll make two claims under the headline of '80s animation: first, that He-Man and the Masters of the Universe was the most influential cartoon of its time; and second, that this was due to its use of "fantastic transformation," the supernatural component drawn from superhero literature that makes all fantasy fantasy.
Truthfully, the primary influence the character "He-Man" had on me-spread over these various mediums and often disharmonious contributors-was not transformation, at least not at first. This seems odd given that transformation was the primary theme of the animated television series, what with the average character called Prince Adam changing to the superhero barbarian He-Man by raising "the Power Sword" and crying out "By the Power of GrayskullI have the power!" This scenario was most prevalent in that cartoon, which, as I've looked back, had the least influence over me until the animated film The Secret of the Sword introduced He-Man's twin sister She-Ra. Without a doubt it was the poignant story of their separation after birth and her Moses-like discovery of her true origin that brought the theme of transformation home for me. Once He-Man's enemy and captor, Adora uses a Power Sword similar to his to become She-Ra, all amidst a triumphant fanfare and fireworks that touched my emotions more than the warrior-appeal of He-Man ever had.
Prior to this, my understanding of "He-Man" continuity was based on the earliest mini-comics that accompanied action figures in the famous Mattel toy line. The first of these, "He-Man and the Power Sword," depicts He-Man as a Conan-like barbarian who leaves his tribe out of a sense of responsibility for the strength and courage he possesses. Those traits are not supernatural, however, and never does he undergo a transformation except inasmuch as his natural abilities are augmented by items given him by a goddess-like character (items that of course justify each accessory to the action figure). This male version of accessorizing struck me from that point on as a crucial element to heroic literature, so that, later on, the cataloguing of warriors and their weapons in Homer seemed appropriate and exciting.
In other words, the early mini-comics and action figures raised questions for me about violence, not fantasy or transformation; and I often heard my mother ask whether I felt "He-Man" was too violent or was having a negative effect on me (a complaint she'd heard leveled by other parents at the time). Of course there's truth to this-it was "He-Man" that introduced me to swords and warfare-but simultaneous to that was the loaded concept of "good versus evil" and the instruction (as I took it) that violence can become necessary to protect free will. As monsters usually do, the villains in "He-Man" represented evil incarnate, with little sympathetic depth with which a child might identify. Skeletor, He-Man's nemesis, was the embodiment for me of desperate wickedness; he was a true testament to the notion that evil, while present and persistent, is also doomed to fail-and to fail miserably.
I suppose this is why, once I saw The Secret of the Sword, I was able to identify so well with the notion of good born from evil (as in the character of Adora). Transformation hadn't hit home for me with Prince Adam/He-Man because it was essentially the same character donning a different costume, although more reminiscent of Captain Marvel than Superman. But his physical transformation never included a spiritual or mental one as well, or in other words, an epiphany. His experiences as He-Man were certainly positive and purpose-driven, but not necessarily character-building, in reality drawing Prince Adam no closer to the being that embodied him temporarily. By contrast, when Adora takes up her own Power Sword and accepts the role of She-Ra, it is simultaneous to her recognition that goodness lies in those powers of the universe that preserve rather than control freedom. She switches sides, becoming good instead of evil, and therefore one of the few characters in this franchise to add depth and realism to that theme.
It may be that this cord rang loudest because I was raised in a religious home, where we studied and taught about needing to overcome worldly origins in search of transforming truth. It's certainly true that this is what catches my attention now, in revisiting the "He-Man" franchise, whether or not I understood it then. He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, despite receiving criticism for the violence or the supposed commericialization of it all, became the bar by which I measured all later fantasy literature. It is noteworthy, therefore, that like the earliest examples of literary fantasy, this contemporary adapation is centered around supernatural transformation. In this way I consider "He-Man" my first and greatest tutor, being my introduction to the axiom of violence in a desperate world, and representing our potential, through belief in supernatural powers of the universe, for overcoming it.