It’s “How I Met Your Wookiee”!
That’s the gist of “Solo: A Star Wars Story,” the latest entry in the sci-fi film franchise, in which a young-ish Han Solo goes from wisecracking space chauffeur to weighty leading man.
Like 2016’s “Rogue One,” “Solo” is a prequel that sets up “Star Wars: Episode IV — A New Hope.” Here, Han meets Chewbacca! Han first flies the Millennium Falcon! Han makes the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs!
But unlike the smashing “Rogue One,” “Solo” is a low-stakes trudge through the stars. “So Long” is more like it.
The prequel explains how Han (Alden Ehrenreich) succumbed to a life of smuggling, and eventually wound up on the desert planet of Tatooine. That’s a lot less enticing a premise than, say, how Anakin Skywalker went from cherub to dark lord, or where has Luke been squatting since 1983? But there it is.
It turns out Han was born on a lawless world called Corellia, where he learned how to be a pilot, and frolicked with his girlfriend Qi’ra, played by Emilia Clarke, who is far more interesting when flanked by dragons. Running away from home, he joins the Empire as a soldier. (Strange this never came up in the original trilogy when he was, um, fighting the Empire.)
Eventually Han ditches the Stormtroopers to hang out with some different sleaze balls — including Woody Harrelson and Thandie Newton — on a heist, stealing a plutonium-like substance that can power ships or destroy planets. Out-of-place Harrelson wins the Laura Dern “What Am I Doing Here?” Award for this flick.
For the rest of the film, director Ron Howard whooshes us from ugly smog-filled planet to ugly smog-filled planet as the gang tries to complete their mission, not so much saving the galaxy as saving their own asses. The bad guy, crime lord Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany), resembles the worst kind of Pierce Brosnan-era “James Bond” villains. He’s got a bunch of unexplained scars, a vague eccentricity and no menace. You’ll forget him by the time you reach the parking lot.
Donald Glover is amusing as Lando Calrissian, whom he turns into a vainglorious space Casanova. And all of the film’s wit belongs to Phoebe Waller-Bridge as the voice of L3-37, a sassy droid who wants to liberate her nuts-and-bolts kind.
As for Ehrenreich, the 28-year-old actor is a major emerging talent. He was exceptional in “Hail, Caesar!” and here he is a likable, believable romantic lead. But that’s all. Poor Ehrenreich has been set up to fail by being given an impossible task: to make us forget about Harrison Ford, easily the most iconic action hero in modern cinema. No actor alive can match Ford’s unique mix of humor, easygoing heroics and all-American ’tude. He’s the only person who could sell a stand-alone Han Solo movie.
Disney was bound to hit a wall sooner or later. The studio has been cranking out “Star Wars” movies with the rapidity of chocolates on Lucy and Ethel’s conveyor belt. Everything started out dandy, but now they’re scrambling to keep up with the demands of cranky fans, troublesome talent and truly crazy annual release dates. Four movies in less than three years is a lot of celestial battles. “Solo” is the first victim of that madcap pace — a movie so un-fun you should get college credit for watching it.
Next year’s “Episode IX,” I suspect, will end the latest trilogy with a bang. But “Solo,” sadly, should be frozen forever in carbonite.