While watching the unenthusiastic reviews rolling in this morning, I've been thinking about what it means to be a Star Wars fan as well as a film reviewer. There are certain expectations, and fans can influence other fans. There's something in the zeitgeist at any given moment that measures how much nostalgia and how much new material are allowed in each new installment. If too much one way or the other, there will be opposition. If expectations are not met, one way or the other, there will be resistance.
A different factor is also in play. I've become convinced that IMAX is far from the best way to see a movie, even movies that are specifically shot for IMAX. Depending on the theater, or depending on where you're sitting, the sound can be muffled, or the action can appear sludgy. It can be hard for the eyes to track things on such a large screen. As for me, I found myself in a good enough spot that things played clearly. But many reviews complain of clutter. if Jon Favreau's Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu was screened for all critics on IMAX screens, it could help account for the film's tepid response.
On the other hand, I've also been thinking about my own ratings of earlier films. I'll be the first to admit that I drastically overrated the previous theatrically-released Star Wars film, The Rise of Skywalker. It was a tidy wrap-up of that trilogy, but it was safe, uninspired, and unsurprising. I have never wanted to see it again, nor have I been curious to rewatch George Lucas's prequels, all of which I gave passing grades. So I feel like treading carefully when it comes to this new film.
Debuting in 2019, The Mandalorian was the first live-action Star Wars television series, and it was largely well-received. Favreau took elements of the Star Wars universe and created new characters with a whole new vibe. He was inspired by Japanese storytelling such as Lone Wolf and Cub and Seven Samurai. The title character (played by Pedro Pascal) was like Clint Eastwood, stoic, a man of few words, a man who gets the job done. Juxtaposed with the adorable, mischievous Grogu (dubbed "Baby Yoda" until his name was actually revealed), they were a strong pair. The developing father-son relationship added new layers.
Fans felt a little let down by the show's third season as things became more familiar. (A confusing cross-over wherein viewers were required to watch three episodes of The Book of Boba Fett before starting Season 3 also caused some rancor.) And hence we come to the next chapter on the big screen. The Mandalorian and Grogu begins with our heroes working as contractors for the New Republic, hunting stray Imperial warlords that are still trying to keep strangleholds on outlying systems. We drop in on them as they are trying to catch an especially nasty, especially slippery one (Hemky Madera). They destroy three Imperial Walkers in the process, which I found immensely satisfying.
Their next mission is to track down another Imperial renegade, only this time no one knows what he looks like or whether he's even alive. Relatives of Jabba the Hutt apparently have some info, and Mando must go to their palace to speak to them in person. He discovers that they will trade the information in exchange for the return of their kidnapped nephew, Rotta (Jeremy Allen White). Mando and Grogu travel to a distant moon that looks like it came out of Blade Runner and find Rotta there, held prisoner, but also enjoying his status as a muscular bloodsport fighter, basking in the roar of the crowds. He doesn't want to be rescued.
Rotta also explains that, as Jabba's son, he is next in line for the throne, and his devious relatives don't really want him home safe; they want him dead. (Mando describes the Hutts as creatures who maintain control through violence and treachery, which reminded me of another disgusting, slug-like ruler alive in the world today.) Mando doesn't care initially. He's just there to do a job, but when Rotta himself is able to name names and give up the Imperial stooge Mando seeks, he decides to cut right to the chase. This leads to the film's second half, as the Hutts take their revenge for what they perceive as Mando failing to hold up his end of the deal.
In and around all this stuff, we get lots of fight scenes, lots of monsters, lots of monsters fighting, and lots of chase scenes (sometimes with monsters). Many of the scenes are clear homages to other movies, such as a chase scene that resembles the legendary one in The French Connection. However, in the very first Star Wars (1977), George Lucas paid homage to war movies, swashbucklers, and Westerns (specifically John Ford's The Searchers), so I don't see the problem. Homage is not exactly out of character for a Star Wars film.
It also may seem as if there's nothing to the story, as if there's nothing at stake. Mando and Grogu's relationship is never in any jeopardy. Neither changes much over the course of the story. It's unserious and uncomplicated. However, I must say I prefer a simple story about characters I like to overstuffed and opaque entries like the prequels, heavy on explanatory talk and clueless about emotions. Any one of Grogu's "aww" moments is a thousand times better than the wooden attempts at conveying feelings in Episodes I-III.
I think we can chalk this up to the talents of director and co-writer Jon Favreau. I've long been a fan of his brand of bright, effortless storytelling, everything well-paced and with just the right tone of playfulness. He made his screenwriting debut with the cult classic Swingers, and his directing debut with the crime comedy Made. He had a huge hit with Elf, and two more huge hits with Iron Man and Iron Man 2 (before the MCU was even a thing).
He became too big too fast, which led to Cowboys & Aliens, a movie that clearly spiraled out of control as more than a dozen producers likely tried to voice their own opinions. His best film, Chef, is a clear metaphor for the conundrum of big money squelching artistic freedom. Since then he seems to know where he stands. (It didn't hurt that he made yet more huge profits with the unnecessary remakes of The Jungle Book and The Lion King.) That brings us to the present, where The Mandalorian and Grogu is closer to his wheelhouse.
His film provides several solid laughs (all Grogu), and continues the touching father-son relationship between the characters. (In one scene, Mando takes away a packet of blue cookies for fear that they'll spoil the youngster's dinner.) He calls out illicit leaders like the Imperials — who collect protection money in exchange for practically nothing — and the Hutts, who use fear and violence and threat to keep their subjects in line. Even if the film doesn't explicitly tie these evil ideals into real life, they're still there for the finding.
While the CG effects show their seams, the monster designs are unique and interesting, and the battles regularly bring fresh surprises. It's very refreshing that Grogu, as well as the miniature mechanic characters from the series, are practical puppets, which deepens the relationship between our heroes, given that Grogu is actually there on the set. The movie is briskly-paced, satisfying, and lots of fun. I think part of its breeziness is that it has less at stake than any other Star Wars movie (aside from the first three) — it's not trying so hard to please — and I see that as an asset. It's a movie I wouldn't mind spending my hard-earned credits on.
