Just finished the Mandalorian this weekend, as my girlfriend and I have had our attention pulled from Disney+ by her DVDs of Boston Legal and by the first season of Project Blue Book. But we got on the Baby Yoda bandwagon fairly early, and I'd say we've enjoyed the show a lot - especially in light of what the movies have been serving up.
In fact, it's probably fair to say that the Mandalorian is the best Star Wars to come out since Rogue One, or possibly even since the original trilogy (since Rogue One, as much as I love it, suffers from some serious character problems).
I haven't devoted an entire blog to it, but I was quite disappointed by Episode 9. The first hour is a headache-inducing mass of set pieces, with plot points pulled out of nowhere to satisfy the filmmakers' need to move the plot along. I'm reminded of critiques I used to get on my own writing, where beta readers would accuse me of placing characters in certain situations because the plot demanded it, rather than it being organically driven by the characters themselves.
I've seen other instances of it since then, but this is potentially one of the worst - the Emperor Palpatine, who hasn't appeared in any of the sequel trilogy films until now, just announces his return to the galaxy. Off-screen.
Why? Because JJ Abrams needs him to.
The Last Jedi was also a bit frustrating for me, as it wastes a bunch of characters and has to be walked back by Rise of Skywalker, even if I could appreciate the swing for the fences.
And Solo was fine, though not necessarily ground-breaking. I also find it hard to forgive the filmmakers for how they came up with Han's last name.
So, you could say that the public's been waiting for a nice, enjoyable, non-divisive Star Wars movie or show or, well, anything. And we've got that in the shape of the Mandalorian.
If we accept that Star Wars has always been an exercise in remixing tropes and visuals from other movies and genres, then it's not such a large leap to suggesting that the most successful Star Wars movies are those that wear its influences most proudly. Episode 4 is a prime example, with kissing princesses (who are also pretty dab hands with a blaster), swinging across chasms and fighter battles lifted straight from World War II movies as its clearest "homages" to what's gone before.
Westerns, samurai movies and Dune are also heavily in the mix, as we see in that movie and in the next two films in the original trilogy. Rogue One also wears its influences pretty proudly, and the Mandalorian joins this tradition by clearly being a space western, just as clearly as Firefly was.
Like Clint Eastwood's spaghetti westerns, the main character swaggers onto the screen with barely a word, no hint of his name or face or background. We spend the first episode learning about what he does for a living, watching him move toward the moment where he has to decide whether to follow his principles or his quest for more beskar steel. Though let's be honest, it's easy to follow your principles when they involve saving an adorable Baby Yoda from being blasted by an assassin droid.
The next few episodes take the space western thing and run with it, as he fights off assassins trying to get his prize, goes running elsewhere and gets involved in Seven Samurai-style adventures to help a peaceful village fight off raiders. And at last he gathers the folks who've helped him up until now, to face down the Empire - featuring surprisingly affecting deaths of several characters on the way.
Thinking about the show this way, it feels like storytelling - or rather, just telling a good story - is at the heart of the Mandalorian the way it hasn't been for Star Wars for... well, decades. Part of what ruins the prequels is the fact that you know what's going to happen to the characters. Part of what ruins the sequels is the feeling that Rey's story, at the final reckoning, is inessential.
The thing that made Rogue One work for me was the way it fit into the tapestry of the earlier movies - it doesn't retcon anything (at least, not to a significant degree), but rather fills in some blanks and leads into Episode 4 in quite a satisfying way, while also showing you other aspects of the universe that still fit in with what we know of Star Wars.
The Mandalorian manages this at the other end of the original trilogy, taking place after the collapse of the Empire in Return of the Jedi, but showing how the galaxy has been thrown into chaos by the death of Palpatine and the formation of the New Republic. Imperial forces are still running around, but they're a little dustier and dirtier, more warlords than Imperial officers - which feels like a cool plot development.
The Mandalorian is also probably the most sympathetic main character Star Wars has had in a while. You have to appreciate the acting job that Pedro Pascal does in the lead role, since his face is covered the whole time and his voice is mostly muffled by his helmet, taking away the two most important tools in an actor's arsenal. Yet he still conveys a range of emotion through the helmet, for example when he's tenderly taking care of Baby Yoda.
The Child (to give him his official name) is also a great addition, since he fills that time-honored niche of cute sidekick that R2-D2 and BB8 have done such a good job with since 1977. He's a marvel of digital and practical effects, and his eyes and ears are so expressive that you can't take your eyes off him whenever he's on screen. You might scoff at a grown man fawning over a cute puppet, but that contrast between hardened killer and innocent child makes for great drama (while also being a nice callback to Lone Wolf and Cub).
Given what a nice job they did with the Mandalorian, one hopes that the creative team, and especially show runner Jon Favreau, gets hired to make the next few Star Wars movies. But then, what do you expect from the director whose vision brought us the first Iron Man movie, and with it the whole MCU?
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