Allen Christian reviews the premiere episode of The Mandalorian…
I’m not entirely certain what I expected going into The Mandalorian. Disney’s handling of the Star Wars franchise so far has been contentious, and while I’ve enjoyed all four of the recent films, I’ve never been quite excited by them or for them. The Last Jedi is my favorite Star Wars film since The Empire Strikes Back, and yet I have negative hype going into The Rise of Skywalker. Maybe it’s because that name is just unforgivably awful. In recent years, watching all of these massive, incredibly expensive films being made out of my favorite things from my childhood (most under Disney at this point), I’ve come to accept that maybe nothing is going to make me feel like a kid again, and maybe it’s unfair to expect it to.
Suffice it to say, The Mandalorian was a point of curiosity for me. It is the first live-action Star Wars television series. We see the immediate fall out of the destruction of the Empire. It inexplicably stars Werner Herzog. But still, it was not a point of excitement. Oh, this guy looks like Boba Fett. Great. Jon Favreau, talented though he is, has been trotted out for another Disney project. Great. It’s exclusive to Disney’s brand new monthly subscription service. Wonderful.
Despite trailers and promo footage that looked interesting, I remained ambivalent about this project right up until the point I pressed play on the Disney+ app. Much like the spin-off films, The Mandalorian dispenses with the epic fanfare and operatic grandeur used to set the tone in the numbered entries. Instead, we’re introduced to the titular character (who simply goes by “The Mandalorian,” reminiscent of Clint Eastwood’s “Man With No Name”). Mid-mission, we see him walking across a fairly barren, icy landscape, following some sort of tracking device to the local cantina. A confrontation inevitably ensues with the local riff-raff before the Mandalorian confronts his bounty. The bounty tries to strike a deal, offering credits in exchange for being left alone. “I can bring you in warm…” the Mandalorian mutters his first words, moving his hand to his blaster, “Or I can bring you in cold.” The statement is matter-of-fact. Not some cartoonish threat.
This cold open, the first three minutes of the show, more easily establishes itself within the existing Star Wars universe than any of the recent film efforts. It doesn’t struggle and strain to find its footing, or demand that you recognize its place in the canon. It just is. It’s a pretty nebulous statement, saying that this show “gets it” where other efforts fall short. What does it get? I don’t know, and if I did, I’d be trying to make Star Wars movies. Does it strike a cord of nostalgia? Only in that it’s Star Wars, but that doesn’t seem to be the goal. Gone are the musical cues of John Williams, as Ludwig Göransson’s (of Creed and Black Panther fame) score stakes its own claim, while still feeling sufficiently Star Wars.
“Sufficiently Star Wars,” was the recurring thought I had throughout. It’s still hard to place. Unlike the recent films, it drops most of the window dressing of the Original Trilogy. No charming-yet-cheesy screen wipes. It’s not even shot like Star Wars. While Favreau pens this episode, Dave Filoni sits in the director’s chair. Filoni’s previous directorial credits are all in the realm of animation, making this his first live-action direction. It doesn’t show. The show quickly establishes its own visual identity. In bucking convention, in not trying to recreate the magic of Star Wars, it easily settles easily into the universe. No callback shots, and very little dependency on prior knowledge of the material. The Mandalorian assumes your familiarity with the universe, but doesn’t really care to play to it. More accurately, it’s confident that its premise and its characters are already part of that lore and doesn’t feel the need to remind you often. The callbacks we do get always make sense narratively or as part of the set dressing.
As the episode moves forward, it deftly introduces the supporting cast. We learn the characters based on their actions and natural (for Star Wars) dialogue. No monologuing, no unnecessary chatter whatsoever. This isn’t a quiet show, but it uses words sparingly and in a very exact manner, always either moving the plot forward or helping to immerse the viewer into the world.
The cast execute their roles well. Pedro Pascal works well as a character whose face we don’t see and whose voice we hear little of. That’s not damning with faint praise. His physicality can dominate a scene. The imposing armor helps, but his movement is intimidating, and the cadence of his voice can catch you off guard. It’s commanding without being menacing. Carl Weathers doles out the bounties, and Werner Herzog is simply “The Client” (anything more than that is a spoiler). Both serve to get the plot moving with as little exposition as possible. A wonderful Nick Nolte cameo awaits here as well.
All in all, the show’s most compelling and spectacular parts are sure to come in later episodes, but The Mandalorian’s most noteworthy feat was accomplished in a cold open. It’s enough to make you wish they had asked Favreau to helm the films.
Allen Christian
