The Mandalorian And Grogu Finally Gave This Lifelong Fan A Star Wars Movie To Hate

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You may have noticed that people have very strong opinions about "Star Wars." To be fair, the franchise is a unique case. What began as a film that legitimately blindsided Hollywood soon took over pop culture and the industry at large, only to abruptly stop after 1983's "Return of the Jedi." During the 16-year gap when no new live-action "Star Wars" media was produced, the franchise mutated into something more niche, all while the hope that creator George Lucas would one day make a new trilogy kept fans afloat. That day finally came with 1999's "The Phantom Menace." The next couple of decades brought follow-up Prequel films, the Sequel trilogy, and the Disney+ era, demonstrating that the definition of what "Star Wars" is has become much broader.

This is why I've long maintained a personal theory that there's no wholly bad "Star Wars." Ever since my home video viewing of the original 1977 film as a kid got me into sci-fi and fantasy, I've been impressed by the variety the series offers. So while I have my criticisms about some of the Prequels and Sequels, I've been generally satisfied with the ambition and imagination on display. Even though the TV shows of the last seven years have been uneven, they've mostly done right by the franchise's tradition of making bold choices. Until now, sadly. 

This week's "The Mandalorian and Grogu," the first "Star Wars" theatrical release in seven years, is an insult to that long-upheld tradition. It's the first "Star Wars" venture that feels like it makes no choices whatsoever, and is so safe it seems antiseptic. It's the very first "Star Wars" movie I've found almost nothing to like about, and as such, it's become the first film in the franchise that this lifelong fan hates.

A 'fun' movie with zero fun

"The Mandalorian and Grogu" thinks it's a back-to-basics affair, returning as it does to the mission-based structure of the first season of "The Mandalorian." Indeed, that season of the series is its best, as the directors and writers (which include Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni) used the character of Din Djarin as a hybrid Man With No Name western archetype and Japanese ronin figure, a stoic and monosyllabic mystery man who roamed the galaxy being a gun for hire. The show was never that deep, but it was a fun watch. After the next two seasons got bogged down in "Star Wars" lore, it makes sense why Favreau and Filoni would think that a mission-centric story would be best for the film.

The problem is, there's virtually no story to be had here. Neither Din (played by Brendan Wayne, Lateef Crowder, and Pedro Pascal, cashing a paycheck) nor Grogu are challenged on an emotional, intellectual, or even physical level. Mando waltzes through every battle as if he'd used an Immortality cheat code, and thus the action sequences are devoid of all excitement. For the first two-thirds of this 132-minute movie, I thought perhaps the filmmakers were setting us up for a story akin to 1964's "Goldfinger," the James Bond movie that begins with Bond clearing every obstacle before nearly losing it all in the second half. Instead, Mando wins unfailingly, and seemingly fatal wounds pose no threat that he may not return. 

It's as if Favreau and Filoni are so intent on making Mando "cool" at all times that they rob him of any identity and the film of any stakes. An unbeatable hero facing beatable odds results in no tension, no drama, no excitement, and no fun.

A completely forgettable film

There's too much weightlessness in "The Mandalorian and Grogu." The myriad battles in the movie are stakes-less affairs filled with uninspired CGI. The most life in the film comes from the cute, practical puppetry of Grogu and the Anzellans, and even their storylines are light comic relief for material that is never in need of it. The only major character who has anything resembling an arc is Rotta (Jeremy Allen White, lost and cashing his own check), which boils down to his not wanting to follow in his Hutt crime family's footsteps. (Think Michael Corleone in "The Godfather," if it ended 30 minutes in.)

All of these choices (or absence of choices) feel derived from Disney/Lucasfilm's shyness in a post-"The Last Jedi" and "The Rise of Skywalker" world. Those films made wild swings (and/or missteps), and have been sources of heated debate ever since. "Mandalorian and Grogu" feels like the most corporate-minded response to this; it has nothing that could possibly offend anyone. You can't even insult it by calling it "AI-generated," because AI glitches and makes bizarre choices some of the time. The film is a movie made by committee, one that has a chokehold on the material tighter than Darth Vader's, all so that nothing of note slips out. It's not even lazy pandering (which the Marvel Cinematic Universe has devolved into), it's just Product.

I said that I hate this film, but true hate involves passion, and there's quite simply nothing in "The Mandalorian and Grogu" worth yelling over. If there's a silver lining to this embarrassment, it's that the movie is completely forgettable. Maybe by the time someone who actually wants to tell a "Star Wars" story again comes around, I'll have forgotten about this cinematic equivalent of tears in rain.