Bound by the shackles of past Star Wars movies and lore, The Mandalorian and Grogu is a safe and fun, if unimaginative, romp in a galaxy that’s far, far away.
George Lucas-era Star Wars films had a level of ambition that was typically hit-or-miss. Love or hate Lucas’ efforts, each entry had some interesting ideas that perhaps weren’t as successfully explored as intended. The closest thing we’ve gotten to Lucas’ zeal during the Disney era was The Last Jedi, and it’s been backward ever since. So to arrive at the point where we’re getting a Mandalorian and Grogu turducken of a TV/movie hybrid is especially sad because regression remains the name of the game rather than ambition.
Picking up from the end of season three of The Mandalorian, this movie sequel follows the titular character, aka Mando (Pedro Pascal), and Grogu getting tasked with a fetch quest involving Rotta the Hutt (Jeremy Allen White). The plot is serviceable, if a tad unexciting, but the pacing is strangely inert and un-Star Wars-like. Almost like a TV show.
Part of this is the lacklustre script, which was clearly several planned Mandalorian season four TV scripts smushed together by screenwriters Jon Favreau, Dave Filoni, and Noah Kloor. There’s an excessive amount of establishing shots, story beats that feel overly plotted out, and dialogue that’s occasionally repeated almost verbatim. You can even track the moments where a hypothetical episode ends, and the next installment begins. I suppose this recursive feeling is inevitable when you’re making a movie that’s based on a Star Wars TV show, which itself was based on the original Star Wars movies.
Most glaringly, there are almost no character arcs or a story to sink our teeth into. We learn nothing new about any of the established characters, nor are there any meaty ideas or social commentary which we know Star Wars can do incredibly well. All we get is Mando and Grogu fighting or walking their way from one event to the next with nary a thought or opinion of what’s going on.
Another unfortunate consequence of this Frankenstein’s monster of a script is how The Mandalorian and Grogu operates at the same monotonous wavelength from start to finish. While previous Star Wars movies had their share of pulse-raising action moments mixed with quieter character-focused moments, this movie will barely make your heart rate flicker. Even though there are plenty of well-choreographed fight scenes and action sequences, none particularly stand out visually or creatively.
Despite Favreau having the cinematic medium at his disposal, his direction is particularly unimaginative, especially when it comes to The Mandalorian and Grogu’s aesthetic. It’s mostly grungy browns, straightforward camera shots, obvious CGI, and the occasional oner to show off just a little bit. Almost all of the creatures and planets leave little to no impression because we hardly get a clear look at anything. The closest thing we get to interesting is the giant Dragonsnake, and that’s only because its white skin contrasts with the Dagobah-esque colour palette.
But the biggest disappointment is how the movie continues to carry forward the TV show’s fatal flaw: making the universe feel small despite all the leeway in the galaxy to do whatever the writers want.
We could’ve gone to new galaxies, met new alien species, or just be rid of whatever Empire-shaped shackles that are keeping the movies bound to their past. Yet The Mandalorian and Grogu shows that the movies continue to be guided by their heyday when it’s best to simply let the past die.
In a moment of unintentional meta commentary that’s played painfully straight, Rotta tells Mando that he can disappear because the galaxy is large enough for him to do so. Yet like how Star Wars movies are seemingly unable — or unwilling — to escape from their Skywalker-shaped shadow, Rotta’s disappearance lasts for all of five minutes before he’s seen again. The most depressing part of this scene is the utter lack of humour or self-awareness from Favreau, Filoni, and Kloor’s cobbled-together script, almost as if the irony has flown right over their heads like an X-Wing.
For all the blandness and surprising lack of creativity, there are some great moments of character and craft sprinkled throughout. Pedro Pascal’s take on Mando may be as monotone as the movie’s look and pacing, but there’s some impressive physical action work from his stunt doubles. It’s difficult to really tell when it’s Pascal underneath the Mandalorian helmet and when it’s his stunt doubles, but the perfectly adequate fights and action don’t lie.
We also finally get the answer to a question literally no one asked: What if Jabba the Hutt but ripped?
Rotta is… fine, and Allen White does the best with what he’s given, even if he’s basically given three versions of the same monologue about his daddy issues. But hey, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before in a Star Wars movie, literally.
But easily the most impressive part of The Mandalorian and Grogu is the animatronic and puppet work to bring Grogu to life. Aside from a couple of minor moments of CGI, everything about the adorable little green creature feels tactile and lifelike without any uncanny valley moments creeping in.
Favreau clearly knows he’s got a winning card too, because he puts Grogu’s increased expressiveness and range of motion to great effect during the movie’s high point when he’s forced to look after an injured Mando. In a near-wordless sequence lasting several minutes, we get to witness a top-tier performance from an animatronic puppet that almost gives this movie a much-needed character arc. If there was ever an example of why old school filmmaking craft is still the best way to go, this is it.
Let’s be honest, though, The Mandalorian and Grogu was never going to have social commentary on the level of Andor or the amount of spectacle seen in The Force Awakens. For better and worse, this is in the realm of Solo: A Star Wars Story and The Rise of Skywalker in that it aims to be as inoffensive as possible while offering nothing more than a good time.
It’s charming enough and has enough moments to make you chuckle. When the credits roll and the Mandalorian theme music plays, you’ll have moved on to the next piece of IP-driven franchise content. That’s what this movie is ultimately, content that makes you content. If this is indeed The Way forward for Star Wars movies, then we should lower our expectations dramatically until further notice.
