"The Mandalorian and Grogu" review — Not even Baby Yoda can redeem this "Star Wars" slog
“This is the way.”
Star Wars may have been out of cinemas for the last six-and-a-half years, since the release of Episode IX, The Rise of Skywalker, in 2019. Still, it’s been keeping up appearances over on Disney’s streaming service with a handful of new television series expanding the galaxy. From the critically acclaimed and Emmy-nominated Andor to the rollicking Pedro Pascal-starring space western The Mandalorian, the galaxy far, far away has kept churning out stories without the aid of the silver screen. Now, the world of Disney+ is leaping back into theatres. Not only is it the first Star Wars cinematic adventure in seven years, but it’s also the first released under the leadership of new Lucasfilm president and Chief Creative Officer, Dave Filoni, the co-creator of The Clone Wars, among other projects, who’s making his live-action theatrical debut as a filmmaker here, too. The pressure is certainly high. Pascal’s masked bounty hunter (and his evergreen merchandisable sidekick) has fought monsters, criminal scum bags, and ex-Imperial warlords from Nevarro to Morak, but will he be able to conquer the jump to theatres? In the very obvious twist I’m establishing, unfortunately, no. Mando’s jet pack catches fire and crashes into the side of an AT-AT within the first fifteen minutes. Perhaps not literally, but there isn’t anything going for this movie to keep you from wishing that would actually happen.
The Mandalorian and Grogu seems to forget how movies are supposed to function. Narrative feature films follow a protagonist who undergoes a journey, in which they come to terms with their deep-seated desires and grow as people, with this growth physicalized through the plot. Star Wars is a series with some excellent character arcs. With all the tools of modern filmmaking, good narrative feature films look striking, with well-composed images, interesting lighting, and visuals that the audience won’t forget. Star Wars has excellently shot films across the series. Serving as a sequel to one of the most ubiquitous and successful blockbuster franchises in history, one would expect that co-writer and director Jon Favreau, writing the film alongside Filoni, would remember what makes a movie good. Then what in the world happened here? Instead of any of these things, this film offers up a recycled and reheated batch of characters, with no narrative arcs, purposeless action, and cheap visual effects. If this story were told in a hypothetical fourth season of the original series, it’d already be a mid-season disappointing storyline. As an independent narrative feature, it borders on the terrible.
 |
| Image via Lucasfilm. |
Set after the events of the series’ third season, The Mandalorian and Grogu follows Din Djarin (played by Pedro Pascal, more often called “Mando” by those he encounters) and his apprentice, Grogu (formerly informally “Baby Yoda”), who work for the New Republic hunting down the rogue splinter cells of the Galactic Empire. After a successful mission, Ward (played by Sigourney Weaver), their contact within the Republic, sends them off to Nal Hutta, the homeworld of the villainous, slug-like Hutts, to strike a deal with the crime family for information. See, Jabba’s long-lost son, Rotta, has gone missing. With his safe return to Nal Hutta, they’ll give up information on another Imperial officer. Of course, when they find Rotta (voiced by Jeremy Allen White), Din and Grogu find out that there’s a whole second side to the story and that the treacherous Hutts (you’re not going to believe what I’m about to say next) might actually be planning to double-cross the Republic. Over the rest of the runtime, the film bounces back and forth between the crime-riddled urban sprawl of Shakari and the swamps of Nal Hutta, with Din and Rotta working together to bring down his scheming aunt and uncle.
The ensemble of The Mandalorian and Grogu, comprised almost entirely of reused characters from Dave Filoni’s previous Star Wars adventures, is barely functioning. Pedro Pascal, an actor whom I quite like, is useless here, which is entirely not his fault. The most bewildering part of the film’s completely hollow script is that Din Djarin, the title character himself, doesn’t get an arc. Not that there’s an underdeveloped character, or an idea for one that never really gets fleshed out, I mean that he receives no characterization. Even with all his clunky dialogue, George Lucas’ Star Wars entries had very clear character arcs. But from this film alone, there is no indication as to who Din Djarin is. You might think that a television series would use its big screen opportunity to tell its biggest, most ambitious, and most emotionally charged story it could muster, but that’s not what we get here. Pascal’s natural charisma can’t even save the character through a stormy, moody, “cool guy” performance, because he spends the entire movie (save for one scene set in a pit) behind a metal helmet. Grogu, despite getting second billing in the title, isn’t really any sort of character. He’s not even a plot device, like he was in the first two seasons of the show. He’s just merchandising. There’s a brief chunk in the second act where Grogu has to fend for himself, but when the character has the verbal ability of a six-month-old human baby, the schtick gets real old, real fast.
 |
| Image via Lucasfilm. |
The entire cast is recycled from a hodgepodge of Star Wars projects, including two Cartoon Network shows and the bad Boba Fett miniseries. Jeremy Allen White (the sensational lead of TV’s The Bear, among other things) voices Rotta the Hutt, pulled from Filoni’s annoying Clone Wars animated movie from 2008, a performance delivered so emotionally, you’d think he was a tenth-grader auditioning for a bad school play. Sigourney Weaver, a legend of science fiction blockbusters, is no better either. The villainous Hutts, known as the “Twins,” never amount to full characters, instead serving as mere plot devices. The only new characters in this film are Weaver’s Ward, who speaks with the emotional interiority of a Skyrim NPC, and Martin Scorsese’s alien food cart owner, who’s no more than a glorified cameo. From the series that birthed Darth Vader, you’d expect Favreau and Filoni to attempt to have some new face worth investing in. However, in a film this empty of originality, there’s nothing to be found.
Of course, not every film requires its protagonist to spill their soul on screen, even if some sort of emotional hook is always welcome. The problem here, though, is that the “cool” factor is non-existent. The film can’t escape through spellbinding spectacle in the same way that Rogue One, for example, can dodge its weaker characterization in favour of exceptional visuals and action sequences. The film is profoundly without heart or character in the craft. Directed by Jon Favreau (the man behind everything from Elf and Iron Man to the live-action remakes of The Jungle Book and The Lion King), co-written with Dave Filoni and Noah Kloor, the film finds itself bereft of so many of the core tenets of what makes an interesting movie. The film’s scripting is awkward at best and unfinished at worst. The direction is uninspired and lifeless. The action sequences are forced and boring, with Favreau directing the most functional version of every fight possible, without considering interesting camera work or choreography. The creature design ranges from mildly interesting to Pinterest board scatterbrain. The cinematography, the work of DOP David Klein, is flat and lifeless. The visual effects are empty, with some particularly bad compositing work around one primarily animated character, and the on-screen images can’t escape a general aura of “made for TV” laziness. Where’s the dirt? Where’s the grime? Where’s the texture? Why is everything so smooth and digital?
 |
| Image via Lucasfilm. |
The film isn’t without its saving graces, however. Composer Ludwig Göransson delivers a beautifully eclectic score, combining notes of Ennio Morricone with electronic drones, leaning heavily into the space western part of The Mandalorian’s DNA. Göransson’s Star Wars sounds nothing at all like John Williams’ and the film is better for it. Legendary stop motion artist Phil Tippet is back on the creative team, showing off his old school animation skills in one of the film’s only good action sequences, which involves a pair of clunky robots. The film is a strong argument for the superiority of slightly janky puppets over worn-out digital effects by exemplifying both. Similarly, the puppetry throughout the film remains strong, with the titular Grogu and the adorable Anzellans brought to life through largely practical means. Unfortunately, however, a film cannot survive on the mere cuteness of its supporting cast, even as a part of a series as prone to cute creatures as this franchise is.
The Mandalorian and Grogu plays in territory familiar to the franchise: strange alien worlds, dangerous bounty hunters, grotesque crime bosses, seedy bars, shoot-outs, and the like. But in every case of direct comparison, it’s staggering to observe just how much weaker this film is compared to the rest of the franchise, down to the smallest details of visual texture. Even Attack of the Clones, which I still think is worse than this, has a more compelling gladiatorial fight. And to make matters worse, the film isn’t even interesting enough to get mad about. The absurd stupidity of the prequels and the controversial (let’s leave it at that, please) narrative choices of The Last Jedi have kept the discourse flowing around those films for years, and will continue to do so. But there’s nothing to even talk about here. The cinematic Star Wars franchise knows bad movies as much as it does masterpieces, but it doesn’t do boring. If you thought Solo was a slightly uninteresting drag, you are in for a whole new understanding of that world. The empty purposelessness at the heart of this film is disgusting. The film never amounts to anything worthwhile or engaging. It has no new ideas and no purpose in existence. It’s filler content designed to be safe and palatable, which results in a movie that never reaches beyond cheap television fodder.
If The Mandalorian and Grogu is indicative of the direction that Filoni will take Star Wars in his time as the head creative at Lucasfilm, it’d be better for all of us to get off the boat now.
The Mandalorian and Grogu is now playing in theatres.
.jpg)
Comments
Post a Comment