My first Joe was either Hardball or Repeater from the class of '88. I was likely five years old when I first saw G.I. Joe: The Movie, which was likely rented from the small video selection at Kroger's after mom finished grocery shopping. Being a kindergartner whose affection for the franchise stemmed from the overtly toyetic and kid-friendly (but secretly subversive) Sunbow cartoon, I thought I knew what I was getting into when that rented VHS tape clunked into the VCR. Good vs. evil! Laser blasts! Maybe some funny animals! Definitely lots of snappy patter!
What I got ... was Pythona. Emissary of Cobra-La. Herald of Golobulus. Assassin. High Priestess. Bad ass. In the most dazzling action sequence of the show's animated run (opening credits excluded), this lone, alien, cloaked figure blitzes a Cobra Terror Drome, meeting oncoming fire with ... eels? Clams?? Facehuggers??? This mysterious creature cuts through Cobra's rank and file without breaking a sweat (which, I imagine, would just be another weapon at her disposal). She ultimately lands in the presence of Serpentor, Cobra's self-proclaimed emperor.
Five-year-old me was not even sure he was allowed to see this. Never mind all the violence, including what may be considered the first kills in the show's animated history. Is this lady naked? Considering my age at the time, Pythona's late '80s animated peers, my continued adoration of the character well into adulthood, and all the hindsight in the world ... Pythona might be the first diva that I ever worshipped.
That's why Pythona's debut in Hasbro's G.I. Joe Classified Series line, her first-ever 1:12 scale figure, is not only monumental to me, but also feels like the impossible made possible. Cobra-La Pythona, #172 in the Classified Series, is why I still buy toys.
I would be remiss to not mention Super7's brand new, equally monumental 1:18 scale Pythona figure, part of their immensely fun ReAction+ o-ring series. Two figures, two scales, one character, one incredible week to be a Pythona fan.
The Classified experience starts with the box, an iridescent ode to Pythona's unsettling origins. Her cardboard cage is wrapped with fungoid tentacles, trunks of veiny greenery rendered in pink/purple. Her beautiful and sinister portrait, illustrated by John Giang (you have to see the full version, wow), adorns the sides. When I tore into the box my figure was shipped in, that striking, haunting, shimmering face was the first thing I saw. I screamed, much like the Cobra trooper Pythona sent careening to his death.
Lined up against all the other Classified boxes, Pythona's rightfully stands out. And while it uses the same visual language of Nemesis Immortal's packaging, that iridescent shimmer adds an eye-catching allure — one made unsettling when you realize you're looking at fleshy vegetation.
I also want to call attention to the iconography listed on the back, which objectively measures Pythona's bad-assery. Level 4 is the highest grade.
- Role: Covert Ops = Level 4
- Gear: Hand-to-Hand Combat = Level 3
- Skill: Stealth = Level 4
- Mastery: Infiltration = Level 4
This puts Pythona on par with Jinx and Scarlett in hand-to-hand combat, one rung below — you guessed it — Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes. If you never checked those little symbols out, have fun with them!
The only quibble I have with the box is the use of the QR code on the side. I'll admit: I've always tossed the packaging into recycling and moved on, so I've never tested one of these out. I was a bit bummed that it just ... leads to the Hasbro store. Very "be sure to drink your Ovaltine." A missed opportunity to lead to some cool Pythona content, if you ask me.
Now, Pythona herself.
Glorious. Simply glorious. The goal of the Classified Series is, as I interpret it, to take the Joes as we remember them — perhaps not as they actually existed — and bring them into the 21st century. This means looking at sometimes peculiar designs (Raptor) and working backwards to puzzle out how a "real person" would reach this conclusion in the modern day (i.e.: giant mechanized bird wings). But the Hasbro team has figured out how to apply real world aesthetics while still retaining the, well, quirkiness that made every G.I. Joe design after 1982 so memorable. Realism is not a bad word here because it's used to explain the weirdness, not replace it.
While it's not an exact recreation, when you look at this Pythona, you see Pythona. Her purple and magenta fungus jumpsuit is far more detailed than the almost polka-dot amoeba design of the cartoon. There's depth to this depiction, with layers of shaded, webbed membranes stretched tight over every muscle. The paint application here is subtle, enhancing the sculpt. The articulation is befitting of a one-woman army. Butterfly joints, double pinless elbows and knees, and ab and waist swivels are all more or less seamlessly integrated into Pythona's design.
And then there are three areas that truly stand out, that push an already great figure into hall-of-fame territory: the head(s), the cloak, and the accessories.
A figure this poseable begs for accessories, and Hasbro sure did not skimp on'em. Nearly everything that Pythona holds in the film is included in this release: the electric eel hydra, the facehugger (with articulated "arms"!), the multi-tongued clam, the poison puffer turtle, her clam "phone," and the massive neon pink gem that she tempts Zartan with. The gang's all here, and the gang is very upsetting!
In addition to two sets of hands (fists and grips), two alternate hands allow for storytelling moments: a left hand features the noxious fumes that caused a Crimson Guardsman to lose his helmet; a right hand features venom-tipped fingers that threatened Jinx ("Prepare for eternity!"). And — because that's somehow not enough! — three more original accessories round out the lot. There's an alternate ponytail that's been chopped off at the midpoint. Either she had a close call with one of the ninja Joes, or Cobra-La has its own Locks of Love. And then there are a pair of double-headed snake/worm chakrams.
If you want to see the thought that Hasbro puts into the Classified line, look no further than those bonus weapons. Chakrams (circular bladed weapons with a handle in the center) originated on the Indian subcontinent in 500 BC. Cobra-La is nestled in the Himalayas on the Indian subcontinent, where they've been hidden for thousands of years. Y'all, the Classified team puts in the work.
It feels wild asking for more accessories when this lineup ticks nearly all the boxes (the little spiky-shelled pinecone things Pythona casually tosses out a window of a Stinger are missing; I don't care) — but. The most notable exclusion is an alternate set of hands with Pythona's elongated, Lady Deathstrike nails. The decision to use two of Pythona's briefly-glimpsed hand tricks over the nails is kinda wild — but, knowing the care that's put into these figures, I assume there's a production/cost reason why Pythona's nails, her most iconic weapons, are absent.
And with so many accessories, you would want Pythona to be able to hold them — and she can, the ones with tentacles. The clams and turtle require prising and finessing, and the gem needs balancing, but they all end up in-hand eventually.
The heads — one regal, the other ferocious — are perfect. Her pale skin has a ghostly glow to it, with the faintest of pink brushed onto the cheeks and nose.
The makeup, the tattooing, the lips — her hypnotic eyes — every bit of it is sharp and precise. Her fangs are even dripping with the same green venom of her fingertips. It's exquisite.
But the real standout of this entire set has to be the cloak.
Especially considering that pretty much every other cape and cloak in Hasbro's recent history is hard plastic, rendering the figure nearly inert, Pythona's cloak is a feat of engineering. The outside of it is coated in snakeskin texture, the inside a shade of orchid. The bottom is laser cut in a serpentine design. And the hood — wow. When up, it gives Pythona an almost xenomorph-esque appearance (and there's room for her ponytail, too). Best of all, though, the fabric is stiff enough to fold and drape and retain its shape, allowing for even more dynamic posing.
The Vipers never saw her coming.
All of this adds up to more than just an action figure. Seeing this box, opening it up, switching out all these grotesque weapons, pitting her against worthy Joes and unsuspecting Vipers — this figure reminded me why I love toys. This combination of plastic parts is a physical representation of something I loved as a kid, something I wanted as a kid, but never had. Getting it now, holding it, kicks up all those feelings and memories. Every weird clam triggers a scene from the movie, the movie I made my parents rent repeatedly. Seeing the face, I can hear Jennifer Darling's haunting voice performance in my head. And seeing the care put into this presentation, from the box art to the snake chakrams, I mean —
G.I. Joe: The Movie was (wrongly) panned by fans in 1987, a fact I never knew as a kid because (mercifully) there was no internet. All I had, as a kid who met Pythona in 1989 via VHS tape, was a never-ending obsession with this movie and this character. The intensity of my Joe fandom waned to near non-existence for a few decades, but I never stopped watching G.I. Joe: The Movie. It is, to me, what G.I. Joe is — and it means a lot to me to see this piece of pop culture that I love, that was misunderstood, genuinely celebrated with this figure. And, in a larger sense, this figure feels, tonally and thematically, like the first figure in a bold new era for the Classified series. Nothing is impossible.
Pythona was worth the wait.
If you haven't already, consider supporting worker-owned media by subscribing to Pop Heist. We are ad-free and operating outside the algorithm, so all dollars go directly to paying the staff members and writers who make articles like this one possible.
