There is a rule in the science fiction and fantasy milieu – or at least there ought to be – that these types of properties should never, ever set any of the action in our own solar system. With the notable exception of Alien: Earth, which cleverly reframes the franchise’s xenomorphs as little more than fluffy house cats compared with humanity’s own talent for self-destruction, it is almost always a terrible idea. Who remembers Galactica 1980, the early-80s offshoot of Battlestar Galactica that lasted all of one season? Or the later seasons of Lexx, which took one of television’s most glorious space operas and promptly shrank it by parking large chunks of the action in this solar system.
And then there was the 1987 big-screen adaptation of Masters of the Universe, which somehow decided to send Nordic lunk Dolph Lundgren to LA before audiences had even finished adjusting to the idea of him being He-Man at all – as if the true stuff of epic fantasy was not skull-faced castles, cosmic sorcery and men built like exploded anatomy textbooks, but shopping malls, car parks and the vague promise of a California food court.
