Face it: the heart of “The Mandalorian” has always been a little fan fiction-y. What if a badass Mandalorian bounty hunter became the enamored protector of, get this!, a tiny baby Yoda? Well, why not?
Such is the tension of the current “Star Wars” franchise, which is both beholden to all the good stuff that came before (Mandalorian bounty hunters and charming little Yodas and scary gross Hutts, oh my) and tasked with expanding its storytelling. You can’t blame anyone for playing a little Mad Libs with the greatest hits, and the success of “The Mandalorian” TV series has proven that formula out (even as the diametrically opposed and truly genius “Andor” has shown what it’s like to really dig into a different sort of “way”). A movie version of “The Mandalorian” is thus both totally expected and more than a little depressing.
The final product? A touch better on both fronts. Inessential and inoffensive, frequently adorable and fun for the whole family, Jon Favreau’s film feels like three good-enough TV episodes smushed together. If that sounds pleasing to you as a movie-goer and a “Star Wars” fan, “The Mandalorian and Grogu” will satisfy. But if you’re hoping for something a bit more ambitious, the film’s generic soul will likely just keep chipping away at the franchise’s up-and-down goodwill.
Still, how bad can any film be that includes stars like the still-very-cute Baby Yoda (though we worry that this little man has not grown an inch since we first met him), Sigourney Weaver as a stoic New Republic colonel, and Martin Scorsese (he’s billed in the opening credits!) as a panini-slinging local merchant with some valuable information? These will prove to be the best elements of the film, despite prolonged action scenes that seem readymade to be proclaimed as “bigger and better” than the show. At two hours and 12 minutes and with a reported $165 million budget, that’s a pretty low bar to clear.
Favreau’s film finds Mando (Pedro Pascal) and Grogu hunting the last vestiges of the Empire (don’t worry if you’re behind on the show, this information opens the film; like all the standalone “Star Wars” films, it is not delivered via crawl). This is the sort of thing that sounds difficult and, in practice, actually seems like a fairly easy ask? Just look for the Stormtroopers, shoot now, ask questions later.
The duo’s latest mission is a little more complicated — and perfect for building in the “Point A to Point B to Point A to Point C” style of plotting that the franchise has always loved — and sees Mando dispatched to no less than Nal Hutta, home of the Hutts duh, to get things moving. Colonel Ward (Weaver), Mando’s New Republic boss (“I’m an independent contractor,” he loves to declare, which does beg some questions about his tax position), has sent Mando, Zeb (Steve Blum), and Grogu to the planet to make nice with the current Hutt leadership. Mando’s payment isn’t too shabby: a sleek refurbished ship and the respect of Colonel Ward. Other men have done much worse for far less.
New Republic intelligence has spent years finessing the Hutts, and it seems to finally be paying off. The deal: retrieve their nephew and Jabba’s only son Rotta (Jeremy Allen White) from evil kidnappers, and they’ll offer up some key information about an Empire heavyweight that no one else can identify. One of the enduring pleasures of a “Star Wars” joint is traveling to exotic new lands and meeting clever new beings, and Favreau’s film delivers on that, as we wing from Nal Hutta (lush, squishy) to Shakari (a neon cityscape that benefits mightily from a techno-leaning score from Ludwig Göransson) and more.
When they find Rotta — again, not hard — he’s not exactly amenable to their help. If you’ve wondered why the young Hutt appears to have defined abs in the film’s marketing, Favreau at least answers that fairly quickly: he’s basically a UFC fighter now. On the planet of Shakari, he’s a star, a beloved gladiator who is finally able to step out of his father’s shadow. (As with much of the franchise, this entry is about generational trauma, no joke.) That understandable enough motivation — who the hell would want to be like Jabba the Hutt? — is beaten nearly to death, flogged like one of Rotta’s many competitors.
When Rotta is not laying on a massage mat after a match (for a moment, I wondered, “Is he on an LED mat? Is he an influencer? Am I OK?”), he’s telling a baffled Mando and Grogu how very much he does not want to be like his father (“Don’t worry, I’m not my father”) and how his combat career aids that desire. Too bad then that the man holding a debt over his head (Jonathan Coyne) is actually planning on offing him in his last match. This is all a very long — though not without some pleasures — way to get Mando (oh, did you want them to say his actual name? They don’t), Grogu, and Rotta on to the same team, an absolutely brain-breaking trio if there ever was one.
References are baked in throughout, and not just to the franchise itself (did you like the trash compactor sequence in “A New Hope”? we’ve got something for you) but other modern classics (“Top Gun” to “Blade Runner,” even a little “Streets of Fire” for the real ones out there), but they feel rote and expected. If you can’t nod to the first “Star Wars” film in your new “Star Wars” film, truly, what are we doing here?
End Episode 1.
Just kidding! (Not really.) As the film, scripted by Favreau, Dave Filoni, and Noah Kloor moves grindingly along, it’s easy to see seams that sure feel episodic in nature. With the Rotta mission complete (or is it?), Mando and Grogu return home and set about some housekeeping, which fortunately involves four adorable Anzellan mechanics, who provide a little relief when it comes to the film’s often flat character design.
Aside from Grogu and the Anzellans, most of the new creatures we meet are decidedly reptilian, from Hutt security teams to (legitimately checking my notes here) a whimsical bayou crocodile dude who has a knack for homemade medicines and slingshot gags. Much is lost with the film’s (hell, the franchise’s) reliance on CGI, which renders most non-Mando beings a little lifeless (Grogu remains exceedingly puppet-y, which works as often as it does not, he’s lucky he’s so damn cute).
Later act scripting choices rearrange our various character groupings — a sequence in which Rotta and Grogu frolic on the beach together is easily one of the weirdest things to ever happen in a “Star Wars” joint, and is thus instantly memorable in a film lacking in such sticky scenes — adding and subtracting our titular characters at will. Actual character development takes hold in the film’s waning minutes, but still feels like the kind of thing that could have rounded out a very special episode of “The Mandalorian” proper or been far more present throughout this film.
None of these problems are particularly new, not in a world in which franchise expansion requires both more more more and an entry point for even the most casual of fans. Still, there’s something that feels small about this particular story, charming enough in the moment and almost instantly forgettable the moment the credits roll. It feels disposable. It feels like, well, what most things feel like these days: content. It’s time to ask for more. That is The Way.
Grade: C+
Disney will release “The Mandalorian and Grogu” in theaters on Friday, May 22.
Want to stay up to date on IndieWire’s film reviews and critical thoughts? Subscribe here to our newsletter In Review by David Ehrlich, in which our Chief Film Critic and Head Reviews Editor rounds up the best new reviews and streaming picks along with some exclusive musings — all only available to subscribers.
