Star Wars and television have been going together like “ramma-lamma-lamma-ka-dingity-da-dinga-dong” for ages. Never forget, the second piece of filmed Star Wars media ever was that Star Wars Holiday Special. The 80s, meanwhile, delivered Ewok TV movies and a Droids cartoon that introduced the world to Jann Dosh. Then there were the Clone Wars programs of the 2000s. This galaxy far, far away has been rooted in the small screen long before Disney+ was even a glimmer in Bob Iger’s eye. With The Mandalorian moving from small screen to summer blockbuster in Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu, the two sides are more intertwined than ever. Unfortunately, director Jon Favreau’s vision still evokes a sleepy Friday-morning couch watcher more than a rip-roaring IMAX adventure. That TV influence is hard to shake, much to the production’s detriment.

At first, though, Favreau (who also penned the script with Dave Filoni and Noah Kloor) hits the ground running with a fun prologue set on an icy planet. Din Djarin/The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal), with adolescent Force-user Grogu in tow, pursues a Galactic Empire follower while blasting through a Stormtrooper division. The opening deftly reinforces the vibrant personalities of its titular leads. Djarin’s a genuinely brutal fighter, setting fire to adversaries and blowing up ships without hesitation. He also has an equally fervent devotion to his adopted son, who still reads as a wide-eyed, mischievous toddler. The contrast between cuddly Grogu and his bloodthirsty surrogate father is immensely entertaining.

Just a movie of these two bouncing from one explosion-laden mission to the next could’ve sufficed. Alas, the feature quickly opts for drearier and slower storytelling terrain when New Republic higher-up Ward (Sigourney Weaver) assigns Mando to retrieve Rotta the Hutt (Jeremy Allen White). The deeper one gets into the runtime, the more interchangeable CG beasties surround Mando. So much of the tangible practical effects wizardry that enlivened those earlier Mandalorian episodes is absent.

Past Star Wars movies generated endless online discourse. The Mandalorian and Grogu, meanwhile, offers shockingly little to talk about. “Playing it safe” isn’t quite accurate, as that suggests the film ever gets off the sidelines. The heavy reliance on cutesy Grogu, lack of compelling political subtext (even the toyetic Ewoks represented Vietnamese citizens thwarting American soldiers), and dearth of big narrative swings ensure this motion picture registers as little more than disposable.

Drab lighting and a lack of theatrical blocking visually reinforce this conclusion. Only an ultra-brief moment of first-person camerawork subverts expectations. Otherwise, the imagery direly lacks showmanship and awe. There’s just no verve behind the camera. Bright colors are disappointingly absent. While the recent (and excellent) down-to-Earth indie Is God Is embraced vibrant hues, this sci-fi adventure movie aimed at youngsters drowns everything in subdued tones.

Admittedly, individual pieces reach some form of creative hyperdrive. The puppetry on practical characters like Grogu is terrific. Martin Scorsese’s brief voice-over turn as a reluctant informer is utterly delightful and draped in classic noir pastiche. A brief segment with gigantic stop-motion robots courtesy of Tippett Studios played just right, getting me stoked.

Best of all, composer Ludwig Göransson (returning from the first two “Mandalorian” seasons) delivers a phenomenal soundtrack. Granted, composing this score after Sinners is kind of like Kendrick Lamar guesting on a new Maroon 5 album after he recorded Good Kid, m.A.A.d. City. Still, Göransson’s compositions are easily The Mandalorian and Grogu’s greatest asset. Instead of leaning too heavily on classic John Williams tracks like Michael Giacchino’s frustrating Rogue One score, this one is chock full of fresh melodies blazing uncharted sonic territory for the Star Wars franchise. Especially impressive is a composition playing against Grogu and some Anzellans breaking into a grimy palace. The way the electronic noises and clanks seem to bounce around one’s ears is fantastic. Even when Göransson looks back, as when he weaves familiar Mandalorian leitmotifs into new tracks, it’s enthralling.

While the score superbly blends the familiar and the fresh, the rest struggles to reach similar artistic heights. Even the always-welcome Pascal can’t liven up the proceedings. A sturdy voice-over and physical presence, he isn’t given anything especially unexpected or memorable to do. It doesn’t help that he’s often playing against CG Hutts or digital droids rather than past Mandalorian co-stars like Werner Herzog or Carl Weathers.

The Mandalorian and Grogu wraps things up with a rudimentary finale featuring an array of CG creations and ships blasting away at drab swampy locales, leaving any of the prologue’s excitement a distant memory. Even with IMAX cameras and enough visual effects money to finance a dozen Celine Sciamma movies, it all feels mostly flat.

Star Wars emerges from its Disney+ cryosleep with streaming television cobwebs still draped across its body, radiating a small-screen aesthetic. Even Weaver struggles to imbue her fleeting role with big-screen energy. Like a Sarlaac Pit’s belly, there’s no escaping the ho-humness.

Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu is now blasting in theaters everywhere.

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