Jon Favreau’s “Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu” is a cinematic experience in shape only, like a fun house form cut-out that an ill-fitting, proportionally disparate movie might squeeze through with enough gut sucking and contortion. The first Star Wars movie in nearly a decade is less a film than it is a piece of savvy brand management, cross-pollinated with the theme parks and proprietary streaming services to illicit maximum market saturation. Such is the state of modern movie-making, with much of the slop being rained down on the moviegoing public coming in the form of crass historical retcons (“Michael”) or brainless bubblegum light shows (“The Super Mario Galaxy Movie”). The worst part is that Star Wars movies used to mean something and, even more so, used to be ABOUT something. The best of the series, from George Lucas’ original film in 1977 to Rian Johnson’s bold decontextualization with “The Last Jedi”, dared to use their devotion to Campbellian myth to tell stories decrying the spread of fascism and to celebrate the tenacity of rebel forces facing overwhelming odds to liberation. It’s no mistake that the Rebel Alliance in “Star Wars” is a ragtag group of guerrilla fighters facing down an imperialist Empire in the cultural backwash of the Vietnam War; For all the Wookie wails and light sabers, Lucas was saying something, a feature of each of his entries in the series, though some might be more successful than others. Yet, since the vitriolic backlash of spoiled men on the internet to Rian Johnson’s “The Last Jedi”, which had the audacity to present the messianic Luke Skywalker not as some deity but as a man just as prone to doubt and failure as anyone, and just as capable of overcoming it, the Walt Disney Corporation has grown skittish of angering the wrong segment of an audience that lives and dies by the latest merchandising drop and cries foul when their favorite characters aren’t play acted by twenty something’s in a theme park. It’s telling, though, that there have been two successful extensions of the brand since the cultural curdling of “The Rise of Skywalker”: “The Mandalorian” and “Andor”. The first is a galaxy trotting romp with the curmudgeonly Mandalorian (Played sometimes by Pedro Pascal) becoming a father figure to a little green alien who likes to eat bugs and coos like a Mogwai. The second tells the story of the Rebellion’s birth amid the long death of democracy post the events of “Revenge of the Sith”, where a despotic ruler has upended the norms of freedom, and underground groups are forced to unite against a common, war-mongering enemy. One of these projects was universally heralded, acclaimed, and broadened what a Star Wars project could be. The other got a big-budget “movie”. It’s not surprising that Disney took the safe approach to “The Mandalorian and Grogu”, making a movie that they hope will generate enough plush Grogu sales to put it in the black before the first credits roll on the first screening. Who needs to make something good when you can make something that will sell? In fairness, Star Wars has always been guilty of such crass commercialization, often in ways that embittered the very industry it boosted. And yet, there is something deeply depressing about how hollow this particular enterprise ultimately is; less a film than a television episode projected on movie screens, with flaccid characters and a crater of dramatic insight. Nobody grows, nobody learns, nobody dares have a thought that doesn’t push the story along, but why should they? “The Mandalorian and Grogu” isn’t really a movie after all; it’s a commercial. Buyer beware.
“The Mandalorian and Grogu” opens with our titular Mandalorian going on a mission to secure the bounty on a former Imperial Officer turned gang lord on the outer edges of the known galaxy. Alongside little Grogu, seemingly a baby though his age is much older, the pair make quick work of some out-of-practice stormtroopers, topple some AT-ATs down a snowy ravine, and head back to base, where Colonel Ward (Sigourney Weaver) gives them a new mission. The nascent Rebellion is working with the family of Jabba the Hutt for information, and one of the youngest, Rotta the Hutt (Jeremy Allen White), has been kidnapped. If Mando can return the wayward Hutt, the Rebellion will be one step closer to learning the identity of more Imperials in hiding. And thus begins a planet-to-planet crusade that leads Mando and little Grogu into the fighting pits of an industrial planet and the agrarian palace of the Hutts, leading them ultimately to realize that their “friends” might not be so friendly after all
I miss when Star Wars had characters that grew, failed, doubted, and overcame. I miss when these things were stories instead of a barrel of plot monkeys strung along into oblivion. While “The Mandalorian and Grogu” is open about the fact that it is an extension of a popular streaming show, one would be forgiven for thinking that the big-budget movie might have more to offer on the narrative front. TV shows, by their very nature, force characters to change slowly over longer periods of time. But movies require strong choices, mistakes, and some sort of minimal crisis of the soul to warrant their own existence. It would belabor the point to lay out how every single memorable Star Wars character has, in fact, gone through their own arcs of seismic emotional growth, which ultimately is why we love them. Yet it is still shocking to see the brain trust of Disney be too scared, or lazy, to instill that same passion into “The Mandalorian and Grogu”. It’s almost hard to blame the filmmakers because this is a movie that was not written so much as it was focus-grouped, not so much crafted as juiced for optimal cultural retention. The film, beyond its cavalcade of wacky chases and bloodless blaster massacres, prefers to spend its time peppering in Easter Eggs, jangling keys for an aging generation of fans to ogle at. If you like a movie where life-size versions of Phil Tippet’s fun go-motion monsters off the chess board in the original film attack each other in real life, grab your Grogu popcorn bucket and have a blast. But if you are looking for a story with thrilling characters, myths made real that feel as personal as they do otherworldly, this is not the Star Wars you are looking for.
Despite the gloom and slow decay that is the state of studio moviemaking in 2026, there are still some bright spots. Academy Award Winner Ludwig Göransson’s score is vibrant and fun; his theme for Rotta, a character that is little more than a CGI slug blob with abs, is a bop from a better movie. Then there is the best sequence of the film, which comes near the third act, where Favreau and the Disney brain trust actually allow themselves to make something interesting. In the aftermath of a battle, Mando is poisoned and incapacitated, leaving little Grogu to take the lead. We follow the wordless puppet as he toddles through a vast forest, finding water, food, and even building a shelter around his father figure to protect him. This piece of filmmaking, without dialogue or human interaction, is genuinely compelling; earnest and sweet in the love that this child has for his caretaker and friend. As a ten-minute short film, it very nearly makes an argument for the overall movie’s existence. Yet the goodwill is short-lived. Because the film, as it stands, has no protagonist, no growth or change in character, merely the continuation of a long-running story where the nice characters are nice, the bad characters are bad, and everybody flies off happily ever after. These are the structural touchstones of a bedtime story, and perhaps that is what Star Wars always was in its own way. But, I would argue that we should require more of our popular art, because if there was ever a time when the finer points of rebellion were in desperate need of reminding on a grand scale, it’s now.
“The Mandalorian and Grogu” is exactly what they tell you it is: flash and bombast, empty calories that will pass from the audience’s mind before they get to their cars outside the theater. For many people, perhaps that’s enough; a little escapism is always needed. Still, I mourn the days when Star Wars made me feel something; when a farm kid staring at twin suns made me yearn for a better future, and seeing that same farm kid, grown and bitter, learn that failure is the greatest of teachers made me feel hope. “We are what they grow beyond,” said Master Yoda. “That is the true burden of all masters.” Those are the words of a diminutive green puppet in a movie meant for children, yet I think on them often and try to live their wisdom. I only wish that Star Wars could allow itself to do the same.
Demand more of your myths.
You’ll be glad you did.
“The Mandalorian and Grogu” is playing at The Broad Theater and Prytania Theatres at Canal Place.
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