It’s been seven years since the last theatrical Star Wars film, “The Rise of Skywalker,” and nine years since the last good one, “The Last Jedi.” Disney’s abundant slew of television, video games and merchandise has been lacking something that most of the movies have offered. Watching “The Mandalorian and Grogu” revealed Disney has no clue how to recapture the childlike wonder that used to be inherent in Star Wars.
Since the release of “The Rise of Skywalker,” 12 different Star Wars television series have been released on Disney+, including one that this film is a continuation of, “The Mandalorian.” It was a massive hit, spawning three seasons, a spin-off and an unfathomable amount of Grogu (aka “Baby Yoda”) merch. The choice to both continue the show’s story through the cinematic medium and mark the return of Star Wars to the big screen is odd. For a show that already has a huge budget from Disney, what can it do to rise in scale and still match the feeling of its television predecessor? An even harder task: How to write it as a full-fledged film instead of a 2-hour episode? The film ends up as an inconsequential blip in the Star Wars franchise, and it doesn’t set itself apart from anything that could be found in the Disney+ catalog.
The film is split into three distinct, glaringly episodic parts, where, at the end of each section, the movie visibly halts for a beat before continuing the story. This structure makes it impossible to separate the movie from television and its narrative feels scarce. The plot follows The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) and his toddler companion Grogu as they are assigned by the newly formed Republic to rescue space colosseum fighter Ratta the Hutt (Jeremy Allan White).
If this doesn’t put you to sleep, then Jeremy Allen White’s rather poor vocal performance as Ratta absolutely will. White uses his regular speaking voice, pitched slightly down, delivering lines empty of emotion, lacking any creative flourish all without any accent, making Ratta sound like someone you would meet on the streets of New Jersey, not in the far reaches of the galaxy. The oddly muscular build of this cosmic slug is displayed in underdeveloped CGI that once again feels like something you would see in a TV show and not a full-fledged movie. He is a character audiences couldn’t care less about, which is not a good thing when the movie is set around rescuing him.
The premise feels one-dimensional, but possesses one beaming quality: “The Mandalorian and Grogu” works entirely on its own. It’s the first Star Wars film that is fully separated from the illustrious Skywalker Saga, which means that there are no appearances or cameos from stars of those nine movies. The past films of this franchise have been plagued by frequently cramming in as much known imagery and returning characters as possible, culminating in one of the worst sentences to ever make the screen: “Somehow, Palpatine Returned.” In “The Mandalorian and Grogu,” there are no lightsabers, no opening crawl, not one note of John Williams’s score and no Jedi. Not feeling bogged down by franchise implications is this movie’s biggest strength, and giving us a moment to live in a separate story feels like a breath of fresh air.
However, the way “The Mandalorian and Grogu” utilizes this unburdened world is where it falls short. Every other Star Wars film centers around a young human protagonist making their way in an unknown world, which feels universally accessible. Adults can see younger versions of themselves in these characters and kids can aspire to be just like them. The stark choice to build the film around a quiet 40ish-year-old man, who utters short, somber sentences only when he has to and is forbidden from removing his helmet in front of others, can only work if the supporting cast is compelling. The character is purposefully inaccessible and when you surround him with a baby who can’t talk and a lifeless character like Ratta, there is nothing there for the audience to latch onto, which garnishes everything in a way that feels soulless.
Famously, the creator of Star Wars, George Lucas, claimed that he made these movies for “12-year-old kids going through puberty.” They were meant to give children hope for the future and to forge their own path in a daunting world. “The Mandalorian and Grogu” stretches incredibly far from this beginning thesis; it’s hard to see anything in this film that a child could take away from in the future, besides thinking Star Wars movies are bad. Though, its detachment from the overtly abundant Star Wars imagery is an inherently smart move that I hope will continue as long as it creates something imaginative and new. In the case of “The Mandalorian and Grogu,” they were not able to create anything truly beyond that idea of removal, resulting in something that doesn’t feel new or enticing in any remote way.
Daily Arts Writer Sam Brown can be reached at sbrownie@umich.edu.
