With Solo: A Star Wars Story, the spell has finally been lifted. Where once we were basking in the narcotic haze of nostalgia reborn on the silver screen, now we can see the forest for the Kashyyykian trees: the Marvelization of the Star Wars universe. Only, where Marvel has managed to mine its forgotten heroes and turn them into icons, Disney Star Wars is turning its icons into forgettable heroes.
Poor, square-jawed Alden Ehrenreich does his damnedest to inhabit a character that was less a person on the page than it was Harrison Ford himself. This isn’t James Bond; you can’t just recast him. Ehrenreich hasn’t half of Ford’s charisma, bravado or nonchalance, and it’s jarring to watch Han Solo act solemn when he should be exasperated, worried when he should act casual, and noble when he should be roguish.
Surrounding Han is a menagerie of old and new characters. Chewie is always great and would be a hard character to mess up (though not impossible—check out the Star Wars Holiday Special at your peril), and Donald Glover does with Lando Calrissian what Alden E. couldn’t with Han Solo. Glover embodies the essence of Lando so well you might wish the movie centered on him. New characters, like Han’s non-Leia love interest Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke) and his newfound partner in crime, Beckett (Woody Harrelson), are neither very memorable nor completely forgettable, but both feel slightly miscast. Unfortunately, standouts like Val (Thandie Newton) and the sassy droid L3-37 (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) get short shrift.
While Solo suffers from how-the-sausage-was-made syndrome (there are multiple cringeworthy “origin story” moments), Ron Howard’s direction elevates the non-essential heist plot, making for an enjoyable action-adventure. But, like Spielberg with Ready Player One, though the technical skills have remained, something intangible, akin to heart or soul, seems to have disappeared with his youth.
The best part of Solo is its production design. Not since Jabba’s palace have I been so drawn to the sets and costumed characters in the background. There are some truly stunning trappings of the Star Wars world within this film. But this also highlights the film’s shortcomings, because they are, after all, just trappings. Stripped away of all the fan-servicing callbacks, all the aesthetic allusions telling us “this is a Star Wars!,” I don’t think there is a good standalone story underneath. Rogue One worked because it told a story integral to the Star Wars saga while introducing interesting new characters. Solo ultimately fails because it tells an non-integral story involving uninteresting versions of old characters.