Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: Once & Always

Seeing David Yost snap back into a combat stance as Billy Cranston in 2023 feels like a glitch in the Matrix—the kind of glitch that smells like playground dirt, plastic lunchboxes, and a lukewarm Capri Sun. I watched this special while wearing a pair of mismatched socks because I couldn't find a clean set in the dark, and somehow that minor domestic chaos felt like the perfect mood for a franchise built on the foundation of "making it work" with mismatched footage and recycled monster suits.

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: Once & Always isn't trying to be Oppenheimer. It’s a 55-minute legacy sequel dropped onto Netflix that understands exactly what it is: a high-budget version of the dream we all had in 1994 while swinging sticks in the backyard. In an era of franchise fatigue where every Marvel movie feels like a homework assignment, there is something refreshingly honest about a film that just wants to show you a guy in blue spandex kicking a gray clay-man in the head.

Grief in Bright Colors

The plot kicks off with a punch to the gut that the original show would have never dared. During a skirmish with a digitized "Robo-Rita" (voiced again by the legendary Barbara Goodson), Trini—the original Yellow Ranger—is killed. It’s a heavy, meta-textual acknowledgement of the real-life passing of actress Thuy Trang, and it sets a tone that is surprisingly mature without losing the "Saturday Morning" spirit. We jump forward a year to find Trini’s daughter, Minh (Charlie Kersh), fueled by a thirst for vengeance that the older, weary Rangers are trying to temper.

This is where the film leans into its "contemporary" status. Unlike the 90s series, which reset its status quo every twenty minutes, Once & Always deals with the weight of time. David Yost and Walter Jones (Zack, the Black Ranger) aren't just here for a paycheck; they bring a genuine, lived-in gravity to these roles. Watching Billy do "science-babble" is still more convincing than most modern MCU tech-speak, mostly because Yost plays it with the sincerity of a man who truly believes he can fix a teleporter with a screwdriver and some hope.

The Art of the Spandex Scrimmage

Let’s talk about the action, because that’s why we’re all here. Director Charlie Haskell, who has spent years in the Power Rangers trenches and worked on projects like Spartacus, knows how to frame a fight. The choreography is a fascinating hybrid of the classic "sentai" style—exaggerated poses, sparks flying off chests—and modern stunt precision. It’s cleaner than the original show, but it hasn't lost that tactile, physical crunch.

The visual effects are a mixed bag, which is part of the charm. The CGI Dino Megazord looks like a high-end screensaver from 2005, and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. If the Power Rangers ever looked too real, the magic would evaporate. We need that slight layer of artifice to accept a world where a giant gold monkey and a dumpster-dwelling sorceress are existential threats. The practical stunt work, however, is top-tier. Seeing the Rangers utilize their individual weapons—the power axe, the lances—in coordinated sequences reminds you why this property dominated the 90s. It’s rhythmic, colorful, and completely unpretentious.

A Streaming Time Capsule

Interestingly, this special exists because of the specific way we consume media now. In the 90s, this would have been a direct-to-VHS "Fan Club" special. Today, it’s a global streaming event. Netflix has become a sort of digital preservation society for Gen X and Millennial nostalgia, and Once & Always thrives in that space. It doesn't have the "theatrical" pressure to reinvent the wheel, so it focuses on being a polished, heartfelt epilogue.

There’s a bit of trivia that makes the experience even richer for long-time fans: this marks the first time David Yost and Walter Jones have shared the screen as Rangers since Jones left the show in the middle of the second season in 1994. Given the well-documented behind-the-scenes struggles Yost faced during the original production, seeing him front-and-center as the leader and "Man in the Chair" feels like a long-overdue victory lap.

The film also makes room for the "Second Generation" Rangers, Steve Cardenas (Rocky) and Catherine Sutherland (Kat). Their inclusion validates the entire legacy of the show—reminding us that the power isn't just about the individuals, but the mantle itself. It’s a savvy move that avoids the "only the originals matter" trap that sinks so many other reboots.

Ultimately, Once & Always succeeds because it refuses to apologize for what it is. It embraces the camp, the primary colors, and the ridiculous "Morphin Grid" logic, but it anchors all that madness in a story about how we handle loss. It’s a brief, bright explosion of nostalgia that manages to say something meaningful about growing up and growing old without ever losing the urge to shout "It’s Morphin Time!"

The special ends with a tribute to both Thuy Trang and Jason David Frank, and as the credits rolled, I realized I hadn't looked at my phone once. For a 55-minute trip back to 1993, that’s a win in my book. It’s not a masterpiece of cinema, but it’s a masterpiece of memory. Even with my mismatched socks, I felt like a superhero for an hour.