Solo: A Star Wars Story

Ill-conceived and shoddily executed at just about every level, Ron Howard's Solo: A Star Wars Story is every ounce the cynical, gratuitous, and mind-numbingly awful piece of corporate fan fiction it had always seemed destined to be. How did Han get his last name? Here's a scene to give you the worst and most obvious possible answer. Where did he get his iconic blaster? Here's a scene in which the dude who teaches him to shoot first gives it to him. Did he really win the Millennium Falcon from Lando Calrissian "fair and square"? Yep, looks like he sure did. And so on, and so forth.
One star, entirely for Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who at least squeezes a little bit of life out of an arbitrary, underwritten, and otherwise meaningless bit part as —wait for it— Star Wars' first female robot (as far as I could recall — my memory of the prequels is thoroughly and, I think, understandably spotty since I never, ever watch them)!

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