I’d be curious to see how Solo plays out to the casual observer. Ron Howard’s sci-fi jaunt is rife with “Oh look!” moments that track for anyone in the know (which is a large swath of the audience, but still), but lack significance or context when viewed in a vacuum, or even chronologically. The second entry in Disney/Lucasfilm’s likely endless Star Wars Stories after 2016’s Rogue One, these auxiliary tales are starting to look less and less like true standalone efforts, picking up the bad habits of one too many convenient tie-ins from their MCU cousins.
The spirit of the thing, however, is much appreciated. Father/son writers Lawrence and Jonathan Kasdan lay the bones of a rollicking western propelled by an old-school gangster flick. It’s a medley complete with thrilling train robberies and shady poker games, half-baked heists and sinister mob bosses. Howard’s a safe and steady hand at the reins if ever there was one, but he’s sometimes transparently holding the film together at the seams of all these elements. Certain supporting characters are dispatched before they’ve barely registered, victims of a film production far more nefarious than vile gangsters or laser blasts. One sees the merit in eliminating familiar faces moments after they’ve been established, but the expedience here feels like patchwork at parts, rather than stake-raising.
Continue reading: Solo: A Star Wars Story is a rollicking adventure hindered by the bad habits of fandom.
