The Mandalorian and Grogu take on an assignment to free Jabba the Hutt’s son from captivity. What could go wrong? This latest installment in Disney’ Mandalorian saga feels like a stand-alone adventure rather than an addition to the Star Wars canon. And families will find a bit of Star Wars spirituality and a lot of bloodless violence.
It’s tough being a single dad. It’s even tougher when your kid is 53 years old, still can’t talk and will take a chomp out of anything that has a heartbeat and fits inside his mouth. Oh, and did we mention he can levitate objects like a pro?
Still, Din Djarin—aka the Mandalorian—wouldn’t have it any other way. Grogu is a handful, all right. But he’s also the apple of Mando’s visored eye. For several years now, Mando and Grogu have traversed the galaxy together: The Mandalorian takes down the galaxy’s most notorious criminals while making sure that Grogu stays safe, plays nice and doesn’t eat too many alien frogs. (Not before dinner, anyway.)
Lately, Mando’s been working with the good guys, that is, the fledgling New Republic.
The government is still trying to get on its feet after the spectacular collapse of the Empire, and it’s doing its best to eliminate new Imperial wannabe warlords, wherever they might be. The Mandalorian—a longtime bounty hunter—is the Republic’s first pick to snuff out these plots and, often, snuff out their leaders. Sure, it’s nice when Mando brings in a former Imperial general alive. But no one’s complaining if the miscreant comes in cold.
But now the Republic wants Mando to dip his toes back into the murky world of proper bounty hunting. Seems that the Hutt Twins—the notorious slug-like crime lords of Nal Hutta—want the Republic to help them rescue their favorite nephew, Rotta. (The fact that Rotta happens to be the heir to the late Jabba the Hutt’s criminal empire has nothing to do with their desire to see him again. Absolutely nothing.)
The Mandalorian isn’t particularly interested in getting entangled with the Hutts. But if the twins get their Rotta back, they’ll tell him how to nab Commander Coin, the most notorious Imperial warlord still roving free. Oh, and the New Republic waves a shiny new version of the Razor Crest (Mando’s beloved ship) in front of his nose as a little extra incentive.
Reluctantly, the Mandalorian accepts the assignment. How hard could it be? All he has to do is break Rotta out of captivity, send him back to his loving relatives and do one more good deed for the Republic.
Unless, of course, Rotta doesn’t want to come. That could complicate things.
By this point in the Mandalorian’s story arc, our favorite bounty hunter is most assuredly a good (albeit violent) guy. As a surrogate father to Grogu, he’s doing his best to make sure Grogu is buckled in during rocky space flights and doesn’t eat too many cookies before dinner. Moreover, Mando’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure Grogu’s safe—up to potentially sacrificing his own life.
But Grogu—still a toddler, based on his species’ lifespan—is beginning to mature. And he’s risking himself for Mando these days, too. In fact, he does his own bit of rescuing, putting himself in harm’s way to save his armored guardian. And when Mando’s not doing so well, Grogu sees to it that the bounty hunter is sheltered, cared for and fed.
Plenty of other folks put their best foot (or tail or claw) forward here. A group of Anzellans (small, monkey-like beings that are particularly skilled mechanics) help Mando and Grogu in a variety of ways. A laid-back resident of Nal Hutta shields one of our characters from harm and supplies an important dose of medicine.
Rotta the Hutt is clearly cut from a different XXXXL-size cloth from his famous father, Jabba. For Rotta, the Hutt name is a burden, not a benefit. He wants to be a better sort of Hutt, and he winds up battling shoulder-to-shoulder with Mando.
Despite his tender years, Grogu is quite strong in the Force (the mystical energy field created by and imbued in all living things in the Star Wars universe, which can be manipulated by individuals attuned to it). We see him sit in a meditative pose for a bit, and he levitates a number of objects and beings. He also uses the Force to calm a wolf-like critter (an anooba, if you must know). Grogu also manages to seal a serious wound with his powers.
The Mandalorian is a devout adherent to the Mandalorian religion, or the Way of the Mandalore. While that belief system is never directly addressed in The Mandalorian and Grogu, we see elements of that faith system—most obviously in the fact that Mando will never, ever take off his helmet. (To do so would bring him lifelong shame, as we hear.) We hear the Mandalorian say “This is the Way” once, which fans of the originating show will know serves as a sort of Mandalorian mantra.
The Hutts and their ilk (which, as mentioned, resemble large slugs) eschew clothes, though that’d hardly be sensual content for most viewers.
“I try to avoid violence,” Mando says. But violence sure has a knack for finding him.
The Mandalorian kills scores of people, creatures and droids—blasting, stabbing, skewering and, occasionally, blowing them up. Almost all these deaths are bloodless, but the body count is still significant. And to see Mando stab someone in the neck or shoot an incapacitated opponent in the head can be jarring.
Mando also engages in nonlethal combat, too. His armored fists and feet deal some seriously painful damage. (He takes off part of an opponent’s horn at one point.) And after one frenetic melee, we see the Mandalorian’s victims do their best to patch up one another.
When the Mandalorian finds Rotta, the Hutt has become a planetary celebrity for his work in a gladiatorial-style ring. In one bout, Rotta defeats (and likely kills) his opponent by throwing his significant weight on top of him—Rotta’s preferred mode of combat. His fights, both in and out of the ring, resemble super-sized sumo matches.
Plenty of other creatures do battle inside that ring, too. One carries an electric charge in its toothy mouth (with the current dancing between its dagger-like teeth). Another swallows its opponents practically whole. Two combatants appear to be the “real” equivalents to a couple of playing pieces we saw aboard the Millennium Falcon in Star Wars—Episode IV: A New Hope. (One slams the other down in a nice nod to that original movie.) All these monsters are out to kill their opponents, so we see characters and critters clubbed, thrown, shocked, chewed on and squashed.
None seem to actually die during this fracas, though, which might be the most remarkable thing about this fight. The same cannot be said when those creatures attack their audience and, ultimately, the city itself. We see people swallowed and hear screams of terror.
Other monsters do their worst elsewhere. Snake-like men attack the Mandalorian and others with teeth, arms and weapons. A massive, underwater serpent swallows two beings and poisons another. (The victim sports a bloody, increasingly grotesque wound that clearly saps his strength and energy. And he ultimately succumbs and sinks into unconsciousness.) Two massive robotic constructs battle and nearly kill each other.
Spacecraft, AT-ATs, weapons turrets and whole buildings get blown up. Storm troopers get knocked around and fall from some significant heights. A parrot-like animal gets vaporized. (A rat-like critter also gets obliterated.) Grogu swallows insects and fish-like things whole. A character gets grabbed by an anooba and carried away, like a dog toy in its mouth. We later see the anooba play with the character, like a cat toying with a mouse. We see dead bodies and lifeless droids.
One use of the word “h—.”
One of the Hutt twins smokes what looks like a sort of hookah. In taverns, people quaff presumably intoxicating beverages.
A number of characters lie or mislead. Grogu steals a couple of fish.
When The Mandalorian TV show landed on Disney+ in 2019, it felt a bit like a revelation. The first season gave us a darker, grittier, seamier side of the Star Wars universe—a post-Empire wasteland populated by amoral bounty hunters and ruthless adversaries. Mando’s grim sense of purpose was mollified a bit by the outright adorableness of Grogu (known to many as Baby Yoda). But still, the show felt weightier somehow, especially in its first season.
Now that the two have made their theatrical debut, we’re given a bit of a paradox. The screen may be bigger, but the story feels smaller. And despite the presence of so many Hutts, The Mandalorian and Grogu feels light. Almost insubstantial.
That’s not a full-scale rap on the film, by the way. There’s nothing wrong with a lighter, more fun Star Wars movie. Star Wars was created to be a rollicking good time, and this movie’s creators leaned into that sense of fun. And with the serial-style, Indiana Jones-like lettering on the movie posters, it tells us what to expect before we even buy our tickets.
But it is a departure from what made The Mandalorian a streaming hit. This feels like a spinoff adventure rather than a solid, plot-moving addition to Star Wars lore. It’s fun fan service but lacks heft. More than anything, The Mandalorian and Grogu reminds me of one of those old Ray Harryhausen creature features from the 1960s—films filled with giant walruses and Hydras and Cyclopses. You don’t go to movies like that for the plot: You go for the fantastical, flyweight fun of it all.
‘Course, all those beasties come with teeth, and this movie does, too. Viewers will be exposed to loads of Star Wars-level violence, peril and a few jump scares. If you count up the casualties, you might be surprised how many you’ll tally. And while the movie goes light on spirituality, it’s still part of the picture.
But for the most part, this cinematic romp is cleaner than most. And even if it feels more like an amusement-park ride than, y’know, a story, there’s a place for such things—even in a galaxy far, far away.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
