In a saga that’s survived Trade Federation blockades, Empire strikes and imperial zombie villain retreads of the First Order, no menace, phantom or otherwise, has single-handedly deadened the Star Wars universe more than the new TV-to-big screen adaptation featuring a helmeted warrior and a cute green puppet. In a multimedia collection rife with spinoffs, series, sequels, prequels, fan fiction, flash forwards and even a once-aired holiday variety show, Jon Favreau’s misbegotten The Mandalorian and Grogu (F) may be the murkiest, dullest and most joyless entry yet. Everything in this film is bottom of the barrel, from plot to characterization to effects; it almost dares viewers to convince themselves they’re not watching as big a big-screen turkey as a summer movie can possibly be (Last Action Hero or Battlefield Earth, take a seat!). The story is simple enough as the titular bounty hunter (voiced by Pedro Pascal) and his diminutive companion must rescue and return Rotta the Hutt, the Jeremy Allen White-voiced prizefighter progeny of the late Jabba, to the clutches of gangster twins running his family’s lair. Foster teen Rotta, a space slug with abs as convincing as the char marks of a McRib and dialogue someone should have edited before the rendering of his considerable CGI contours, deserves his place in a disgraceful pantheon occupied by Child Anakin and Jar Jar Binks as one of the series’ most ill-conceived and nearly unwatchable occupants of celluloid space. Pound for pound, he’s the first sign this flop sweat of a film is Hutt hurt and circling the drain. Prepare for scene after torturous sequence of battles against an array of creatures with few discernible features including a showdown with what could easily pass as a Transformer (Bumblebee could sue somebody’s AI platform for unfair use of likeness) and lots of sea snakes from the trash compactor dumpster fire imagination of the film’s three screenwriters. The uninspired planetary environments in the film’s treacly travelogue will not easily sway many viewers they weren’t actually filmed in the Galactic Edge theme parks. All the jaw-dropping missteps – hell, even Martin Scorsese stinks up his scene as a four-armed food truck vendor (yes, that happens) – could be forgiven if there were heart, heroism or humor to enliven the proceedings. The film even fails at giving anyone a reason to care about its two title characters; no one will confuse these guys with Butch and Sundance or even Ecks vs. Sever. As “Baby Yoda” eats blue macarons, there’s a sinking feeling money-grubbers in search of the next butter beer style merch might have gotten their way if any of this high-flying hokum was even remotely cool. Ultimately it truly feels like a complete chore to watch this, and I come to these popcorn adventures, AMC promo Nicole Kidman style, ready to be swept off my shimmering pantsuit feet into a carefree romp headspace. Instead heartbreak really does hit different here. That aforementioned Trade Federation should plan a tax write-off on this horrible episode as both its dreary content and poor box office prospects are destined for a certain kind of notoriety.
More than a salvage effort from a troubled production and much more entertaining than many will expect, Ron Howard’s Solo: A Star Wars Story (B+) is a breezy space western with enjoyable characters and adventures. The good news is that Alden Ehrenreich steps charismatically into the shoes of famed space smuggler Han Solo embroiled in some of his pivotal early adventures. The origins of his friendship with Chewbacca, an inside look into his and Lando’s (a blissful Donald Glover) gamesmanship over possession of the Millennium Falcon and even the notorious Kessel Run are some highlights. There are some surprising ties to other films in the saga plus some unexpected twists and turns that give this origin story a jolt or two. Practical action set pieces, a mysterious romance and dollops of droll humor make this a fun summer movie for hardcore fans and newcomers alike.
Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, for a sensational three-ring outer space circus featuring amazing planets, phenomenal creatures, stunning acrobatics and very little believable plot or character development. Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (B) is basically Rian Johnson’s Galactic Exposition of 2017, in which the visionary sci-fi writer/director assembles an absolute cavalcade of activity while neglecting the delights 
Gareth Edwards’s Rogue One (B) is the Star Wars film that puts its titular wars front and center with a Dirty Dozen style assemblage of warriors embarking on a strategic mission. This first standalone film outside the typical trilogy format is graced with whiz-bang visuals and bursts of muscular action, some of it a little too self-conscious as if the special effects folks came up with too many of their own ideas. The actors don’t embarrass themselves as they did in the prequel trilogy (I suppose this counts as a prequel too, just really close to the action of the original 
George Lucas’s Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones (C) upgrades the effects and the action from its prequel predecessor but leaves at its centerpiece a burgeoning and head-scratching love affair between Hayden Christensen’s pouty Anakin Skywalker and Natalie Portman’s listless Padmé Amadala that is so poorly written and acted that it threatens to bury the whole franchise in the sands of Tatooine or the waters of Naboo. Some bounty hunter espionage helps put a spring in the film’s step, and Anakin gets to show a darker side when he kills some Tuskin Raiders (hey, aren’t those guys bastards anyway?); and the action of the passive voice title seems to partially occur. It’s largely an attack on good sense. John Williams’ love theme is pretty but underscores a Harlequin romance. Ewan McGregor is again wasted as Obi-Wan Kenobi solving a parallel mystery.
It’s the prequel turkey that will live in infamy: George Lucas’ Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (D). Presenting virtually no interesting characters that inhabit early galactic life and a storyline about tax disputes, the film sends two Jedi knights (Ewan McGregor and Liam Neeson) with mullets and rat-tails and their piercingly annoying CGI sidekick Jar-Jar Binks to pick up a bratty kid (Jake Lloyd) and an inexpressive queen (Natalie Portman). It’s not clear what they’re supposed to do then except bide time between now and when this moppet becomes an angsty teenager. Meanwhile, there’s an interminable pod race, a cool double-edge lightsaber battle and some revisionist history about how you activate the Force in your bloodstream. Lucas’ clunky direction and dialogue miss the mark in each and every way in this very embarrassing opening salvo to the prequel trilogy.
Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (A), directed by Irvin Kershner, deepens the human emotions of the Star Wars characters, giving Harrison Ford’s Han Solo and Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia a witty repartee and Mark Hamill’s Luke Skywalker a more self-assured step into his destiny to becoming a Jedi Knight. But the villains – Darth Vader and his boss The Emperor – are ready for some payback, and tragedy and disappointment may be on the menu. This is the movie that introduces us to AT-AT imperial walkers that move like giant beasts through frosty terrains, the notion of freezing people in carbonite, a fantastic city in the clouds, fabulous beasts called Tauntauns and Wampas, the diminutive and wise Yoda and so much deepening of the folklore. Billy Dee Williams joins the cast as Lando Calrisean, and he’s a refreshing addition; like many other elements in the film, it’s hard to know whose side he’s on! It’s lush and lyrical, passionate and poetic and all the while still adventurous. This is the epic “space opera” that comes from George Lucas’ story with someone else directing and Lawrence Kasdan writing. The stakes are higher, and the adult drama comes brilliantly to the forefront. It’s still basically a comic book storyboard come to life, but it’s epic as hell.
