When did Jon Favreau decide he no longer enjoys the company of actors? Maybe that’s not actually the case; it would certainly be a strange turn of events for a writer and director whose best work has typically involved giving charismatic performers the opportunity to wind their way through chatty riffs. His first two Iron Man movies are in the running for gabbiest superhero movies of all time. (Then again, the risible Chef had a lot of great actors in it, too.) At some point, though, his ambitions appeared to shift toward becoming Disney’s in-house answer to Robert Zemeckis, only without the formal experimentation to accompany his tech-driven, mostly-animated productions. But by the standards of a ghastly-gray quasi-photorealistic Lion King remake, Favreau’s The Mandalorian And Grogu is the greatest triumph of his digital era.
Spinning out from the streaming TV series Favreau created, The Mandalorian And Grogu unveils a feature-sized adventure for a helmeted Mandalorian bounty hunter, also known as Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal, with physical doubling from Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder). These days, Din has dedicated himself to the task of tracking down former Empire villains at the behest of the New Republic formed after the events of Return Of the Jedi. He’s accompanied by his diminutive surrogate son/apprentice Grogu, known colloquially as Baby Yoda and played by an extremely expressive puppet.
Because of the puppeteers who bring him to life, Grogu actually counts as one of the more human elements in a movie that has shockingly few real human faces on screen. Its two top-billed actors, Pascal and Jeremy Allen White, are essentially giving vocal performances; Pascal was clearly present and accounted for in at least some scenes, but from the sound of it, only marginally more than in a season of the series, while White voices Rotta The Hutt. (Yes, he is the son of Jabba. And yes, fans of the Clone Wars cartoon, that weird little baby Hutt grew up and got swole.) Perhaps as a sop to the fans who only like girls in sci-fi when they’re Sigourney Weaver, the legend herself periodically turns up as the New Republic’s Colonel Ward, handing Din his assignments.
The mission powering much of Mandalorian And Grogu is the retrieval of Rotta from a sort of indentured arena-fighting servitude, in exchange for his more traditionally Hutt-like family providing valuable intel to the Republic. This plunges the Mandalorian and Grogu into the seedier end of the galaxy, where they primarily encounter computer-generated creatures, droids, and hardly anyone else from the TV show. As much as Favreau seems to get credit for his love of old-school Star Wars, the sheer number of digital characters here recalls the controversial prequel trilogy—even when the movie isn’t repurposing old battle droids as rejiggered Hutt foot-soldiers.
That’s not Favreau’s only unexpected kinship with George Lucas. Despite making his career on the hilarious Swingers screenplay 30 years ago, he’s also become bad at writing dialogue. Worse than Lucas, actually, because the awkwardness of George Lucas’ prose has a kind of purity and directness that can, to certain diseased minds, sound a bit like classic melodrama. Favreau, who co-wrote The Mandalorian And Grogu with Noah Kloor and new Lucasfilm honcho Dave Filoni, has overseen a screenplay where characters robotically repeat themselves, within and between conversations. Most glaring are two different scenes where the Mandalorian and Rotta discuss the latter’s desire to transcend his father’s criminal reputation, right down to the effect that a cheering crowd has on his self-worth. Despite Pascal’s soothing tones, Din has little to say. It’s telling that the most poignant line in the film’s trailer, about Grogu being destined to outlive his adoptive dad by centuries and the worry that inspires in him, doesn’t actually appear in the finished movie.
To that end, The Mandalorian And Grogu often works best when the characters’ circumstances relieve them of that dialogue burden. The de facto emotional lynchpin is the non-speaking Grogu, who gets some well-scaled adventuring outside his usual shoulder perch, sometimes accompanied by a crew of Anzellans. (That’s the tiny, beardy species of mechanically inclined little guys from which Rise Of Skywalker’s Babu Frik hails.) When Favreau banishes traditional actors in order to send little puppet creatures scuttling through the verdant landscape, suddenly his human-light blockbuster looks, if not quite visionary, at least novel. It also looks much closer to handmade, and deeply charming.
Some bigger sequences strain against Favreau’s limitations as a weaver of fantastical sci-fi action. An arena battle pales next to its Attack Of The Clones equivalent; the creature designs are a delight, especially when the location changes, but the initial setting of a gray, nondescript venue with a barely visible audience suggests that the filmmakers aren’t certain of the difference between evocative shadows and digital murk. A later air-raid sequence is entirely superfluous, inadvertently making the case that aerial battles are as big a Star Wars crutch as lightsabers (which thankfully go unignited here).
Those minor excesses don’t drown out the plentiful fun stuff. The voice-forward cast includes Stephen McKinley Henderson and Martin Scorsese; Ludwig Göransson contributes a terrific, eclectic score; and if you’ve ever wanted to see writhing, grappling Hutts, you’re in great luck. Amusingly, after nearly a decade of handwringing over the financial failure of Solo: A Star Wars Story, Disney mined its most beloved Star Wars TV show in order to greenlight a movie that’s a lot like Solo. (Scorsese even plays the same species as the character Favreau voiced in that film!) Yes, it reverses Solo’s trajectory—starting out surprisingly noirish before finishing closer to a Western—and loses the origin plotting. But Favreau and company create a similar sensation of cheerfully playing around with familiar characters in eye-filling (if occasionally too dim) galactic worlds for no particularly lofty reason.
Indeed, The Mandalorian & Grogu is almost aggressively anti-thematic, preferring to keep even its most obvious parenting metaphors muted and largely unexplored. The movie wants to show you a good time, and it does. Some of its creatures even have some semblance of soul. The “why” of its pivot away from human expression, however, remains opaque, with sinister undertones: Is this mask-and-puppet show a preventative measure to insulate filmmakers (or parent companies) from the uncomfortable but inevitable situation of beloved actors aging (or dying) out of their signature roles? Did they cut that line about Din being outlived because Star Wars itself has become as frightened of death as Anakin? Then again, the series has always had a rich tradition of imbuing potentially lifeless objects with weird humanity, and Favreau and Filoni have extended that process with Grogu. They’re still just franchising within the lines. For now, this is the way.
Director: Jon Favreau
Writer: Jon Favreau, Dave Filoni, Noah Kloor
Starring: Pedro Pascal, Jeremy Allen White, Brendan Wayne, Lateef Crowder, Sigourney Weaver
Release Date: May 22, 2026
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