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It’s The Child aka Baby Yoda, in the second season of The Mandalorian. (Photo: Disney)
It’s The Child aka Baby Yoda, in the second season of The Mandalorian. (Photo: Disney)

Pop CultureNovember 2, 2020

Review: The Mandalorian is proof that Star Wars’ future is in TV

It’s The Child aka Baby Yoda, in the second season of The Mandalorian. (Photo: Disney)
It’s The Child aka Baby Yoda, in the second season of The Mandalorian. (Photo: Disney)

The second season of The Mandalorian is more of the same, but it’s also a signal of where the world’s biggest franchise is headed, writes Sam Brooks.

When The Mandalorian debuted on Disney+ last year, nobody could have predicted how truly huge it would come to be. Not only was it actually pretty good television netting a surprise Best Drama nomination at the Emmys, it created one of 2019’s most recognisable characters: The Child, more commonly and most incorrectly referred to as Baby Yoda. The series even eclipsed The Rise of Skywalker, which brought the sequel trilogy to a spluttering close. For Star Wars, one of the biggest franchises on the planet, it was clear where the future lay. Sorry Rey, your time is over. We’re following Mando now.

The Mandalorian is more than just Baby Yoda, though. The series is set between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens, and follows the Mandalorian (Game of Thrones’ Pedro Pascal), colloquially known as Mando, who hails from a once-great warrior clan who pledge to never take their armour off around others. Now, since the rise and fall of the Empire (thanks Darth Vader!), the clan is scattered across the galaxy, serving as bounty hunters and bodyguards. Mando is one of these bounty hunters, and the first season focused on a simple job gone awry: Mando must deliver a package. That package? Baby Yoda. Hijinks, and an entire season of television, ensued.

The second season doesn’t feel markedly different from the first. It’s a piece of Star Wars content, produced by Disney. You can see every dollar spent on the screen, whether it’s in the gorgeous deserts of Tatooine, or the action scenes that seamlessly blend cutting-edge visual effects with practical action. More pleasingly, the second season continues the trend of booking offbeat guest stars who turn in vivid, if not especially layered, featured performances. Amy Sedaris, a highlight of the first season, returns in episode one, but the main guest star is an unnervingly well-preserved Timothy Olyphant, doing a very clear riff on his long-running role on Justified. (There’s also a cameo that… well, if you haven’t found out by yet, I won’t be the one to spoil it.)

The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) and Peli Motto (Amy Sedaris) in The Mandalorian. (Photo: Disney)

One of the key factors in the success of The Mandalorian’s first season is that it wasn’t like anything else on TV. It felt very much like a Western, each episode its own self-contained arc where fun guest stars could show up, make an impression and then leave, while Mando’s tale meandered from point A to point B. It was less about concluding that tale than about spending time in the world George Lucas created in the 70s and countless others have built on since. The closest comparison I can make is Xena: like that show, character development takes a backseat to the uncomplicated pleasure of seeing characters you like romp around in a fun world. There’s less implied lesbianism in The Mandalorian, though.

Season two doubles down on this approach. Each episode contributes to the world of Star Wars, and specifically to the strange ensemble forming around the Mandalorian, rather than building a strong narrative. It’s a gamble, but it’s one that pays off well: plot has never been the franchise’s strong suit, but the house that Lucas built is strong. There are nearly 50 years of lore for the series to draw on – with a few fan favourites set to appear this season – and The Mandalorian seems more than happy to do so.

It’s hard to watch The Mandalorian without thinking about fanservice, which is when creators are aiming to appeal to fans by pandering to what they want, rather than serving the story they’re actually telling. There’s conspicuously more Baby Yoda this time around, and the audience I watched it with was audibly delighted with every single reaction shot from the little green fella. The Mandalorian knows why people are tuning in. Every Star Wars film since the first has been about fanservice to some extent, but the last decade has really kicked that into overdrive. The franchise isn’t just serving the fans now, they’re in service of the fans. The Last Jedi and the surrounding discourse, if you can even call it that, showed us this. Not even The Mandalorian can kick the franchise’s need to serve the fans, and it’s hard for the pandering not to pull you out of the action occasionally.

The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) and a Weequay bartender in The Mandalorian. (Photo: Disney+)

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the series, though, is how it signals, in a huge way, where the future of Star Wars lies. It’s not in the films, which haven’t had a universally positive response since Empire Strikes Back, and have created a culture around them that is so toxic it could be a Jane Lynch meme. No, Star Wars’ future lies in television, even in gaming. For nearly a decade now, the most universally praised entries in this universe – The Old Republic, The Clone Wars, Rebels, hell, even The Mandalorian – haven’t been films, but everything that fills in the gaps left by those films.

The universal praise makes sense. Television and gaming have the luxury of time – time to develop characters, and to dig into lore the films could only set up but never really pay off. Take animated series The Clone Wars, which touched on the lives of many characters introduced in the prequel trilogy, including fan favourite Darth Maul, and was able to show the full scale of a war that three films could only glance at. Even more crucially, these series and games don’t have to deal with the massive burden of being The Next Star Wars film, and all the fan scrutiny that label comes with.

Where The Mandalorian succeeds, and it’s maybe the first Star Wars product since the original back in 1977 to clear this bar, is that it can stand alone. Think of it like a fine wine. If you know your shit, then you can appreciate the different notes, where it comes from, and the journey it’s taken to get there. If you don’t, then it’s just a really good glass of wine. The Mandalorian is the same: if you know the lore, you can appreciate everything it’s doing to fill out the world. But if you don’t? There’s still Baby Yoda, a dude in shiny armour, and some super fun space swashbuckling.

The Mandalorian drops every Friday weekly on Disney+.

New Zealand television reboots of UK reality and comedy shows
It’s not all bad, but it’s not all good (Image : Tina Tiller)

Pop CultureNovember 2, 2020

From Taskmaster to Wife Swap – the best and worst of UK to NZ TV remakes

New Zealand television reboots of UK reality and comedy shows
It’s not all bad, but it’s not all good (Image : Tina Tiller)

Stewart Sowman-Lund and Tara Ward take a walk down memory lane to look at some of the best (and worst) UK to New Zealand television remakes.

The good

Grand Designs 

There can only be one Kevin McCloud, but we’ve proved there can be two excellent versions of Grand Designs. Hosted by our own amiable architect Chris Moller, Grand Designs NZ proves that Britain isn’t the only place that overly ambitious people will pour ridiculous amounts of money into the concrete pad of their wildest dreams, and turn it into good telly. / Tara Ward   

The Krypton Factor 

It was a primetime celebration of nerdiness, and it made every Saturday night sing. / TW

Dancing with the Stars 

Based on the UK’s long-running hit Strictly Come Dancing, DWTS has been an off-and-on-again regular on our screens over the past couple of decades. The recent reboot(s), hosted by host of everything Dominic Bowden and then Dai Henwood, never quite captured the heights of the original five series. In the early 2000s, it was all about Jason Gunn, Candy Lane, and a series of absolutely horrific moments that have never been (and will never be) erased from my mind. Paul Holmes’ terrible Thriller routine! Rodney Hide dropping his partner on her head! I will never recover. I loved every second. / Stewart Sowman-Lund

The Great Kiwi Bake Off

Great British Bake Off is the nicest show on television, and Great Kiwi Bake Off is just as lush and moist as its baking ancestor. Mix together a bunch of lovely New Zealanders, some astonishing creativity and a few hundred pastry swans, and you get a heartwarming gem that celebrates the best of Kiwi cuisine. Lamington balls, anyone? Delicious. / TW

Taskmaster 

I’ve recently expressed my love for Taskmaster NZ, in a glowing review where I said it’s basically the best New Zealand reboot of a UK classic in recent years. I stand by that: it’s funny, silly, and endlessly entertaining. But that comes with a warning. Based on the trajectory of other Kiwi game show hosts, Jeremy Wells could be headed for a sudden career change into shock-jock radio (read the “OK” section to find out why). He’s already taken Hosking’s job on TV – watch out, Newstalk ZB. / SSL

Madeleine Sami and Paul Williams in Taskmaster NZ (Photo: TVNZ)

Top Town 

If there’s one TV series that deserves to be reborn in 2021, it’s Top Town. Based on UK show It’s a Knockout, Top Town travelled around heartland New Zealand during the 70s and 80s, bringing small towns together to compete in a series of wonderfully ridiculous physical challenges. Glorious chaos, from a time before health and safety ruled supreme.  / TW

First Dates

It’s the reality dating show that matches up single strangers and puts them through a televised first date, and what could be awkward about that? The success of the charming First Dates UK carried over to First Dates NZ, because everyone deserves a shot at true love, even the two single guinea pigs from the weird and wonderful NZ spinoff series. Holly and Luke, you deserve a follow-up special. / TW

The OK:

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

Before Mike Hosking was asking the tough questions of those on the political left, he was asking the tough questions of ordinary people on our first (and only) series of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. I don’t remember much about this series, but I remember that nobody won very much and it got cancelled quite quickly. 

Hosking also had very bad hair and wore a suit that made him look a bit like the Penguin from Batman. Good? You tell me. / SSL

The Weakest Link

Louise Wallace is now known as probably the second least racist housewife from the Real Housewives of Auckland. But to an earlier generation, Wallace was a hard-hitting journalist and host of the homegrown version of The Weakest Link. She’s certainly no Anne Robinson, but she had the stilted intonation and scary hair down. This show certainly isn’t the weakest link on the list, but it didn’t bank much goodwill either. / SSL

Mastermind 

It seems to be a rite of passage for now problematic TV personalities to have had a stint hosting a game show, with pals Hosking, Wallace and Paul Henry on this list as well. Mastermind will probably be remembered as the last thing Peter Williams did before moving to talk radio and losing his title as grandfather of the nation. Like the UK version, Mastermind pits boring people against the clock as they answer boring questions about their chosen boring subject. Unlike the UK version, the people weren’t that good and the subjects were, somehow, even more boring. Go figure! / SSL

Gogglebox 

While Gogglebox UK strides into its 16th season, the New Zealand version lasted a solitary season in 2018. Gogglebox is less a show about television and more about the people who watch it, and although the New Zealand franchise lacked the spark and staying power of the British original, it still reflected a diverse and funny nation back at us, even if it was only for a few precious weeks. / TW

X Factor 

We can’t mention X Factor NZ without mentioning Willy Moon, Natalia Kills and Joe Irvine’s suit, and we can’t mention any of that without humming the chorus of Jackie Thomas’s number one hit It’s Worth It. The juiciest piece of fruit from Simon Cowell’s reality TV loins landed here in 2013, lasting two seasons, 58 episodes and one batch of Lorde’s cupcakes. It gave us the Dominic Bowden Long Pause and Kills and Moon’s dramatic exit from the country, and the rest, as they say in the television reality music competition industry, is history. / TW

MasterChef 

Nadia Lim! Chelsea Winter! Karena and Kasey! MasterChef New Zealand definitely succeeded in producing some top talent. Regardless, the show didn’t quite have all the ingredients to make it into the “good” section. I can’t really explain why it didn’t, but I’m the one writing this arbitrary list, so fight me. / SSL

The bad:

Come Dine with Me 

The UK original is a juggernaut of daytime television.  I’ll watch it hungover with a large cup of coffee any day. It’s relentlessly entertaining, outrageously stupid, and filled with sad and insipid meals. The New Zealand version, dramatically voice-overed by Guy Williams, certainly had the last part. But while the original bakes up entertainment, our home-cooked version needed at least another 20 in the oven (and probably on fan bake). Perhaps most devastatingly, it REPLACED CAMPBELL LIVE! You will never be forgiven, TV3 gods.  / SSL

Ready Steady Cook

In a time long before Uber Eats, two professional chefs and two contestants created a gourmet meal from a mystery bag of ingredients. Green pepper or red tomato? You decide. / TW

Would I Lie to You? 

Add Paul Henry to the list of problematic broadcasters who spent some time frolicking about making a light-hearted panel show. Is making a game show rehab for cancelled shock jocks?

Not only was Would I Lie to You New Zealand very boring, it had the added struggle of trying to compete with the geniuses of David Mitchell, Rob Brydon and Lee Mack. An impossible challenge, yes, and one that we only really attempted half-heartedly. / SSL

Changing Rooms 

So bad it should be in the good section, Changing Rooms was the hit home renovation show of the 1990s. Neighbours had 48 hours to decorate each other’s houses, and if you hated pink, you were definitely getting a pink bedroom. Our version featured designers like Sally Ridge and Donald Grant Sunderland, and the results were incredible. Rooms were ruined, friendships were at risk, and Friday nights would never be the same again. / TW

10 Years Younger

Let’s turn back the clock to a time before this show was ever made, both in the UK and New Zealand. / TW

How Clean Is Your House

Stop asking me such personal questions. / TW

Wife Swap

No. / TW