“Grogu is dead. Grogu remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this dead too great for us? Must we ourselves not become Grogus simply to appear worthy of it?” —Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science (paraphrased)
The reviews are in, and Grogu is dead. His movie, anyway. The toyetic little critter popularly known as “Baby Yoda” co-stars with Pedro Pascal in The Mandalorian and Grogu. A theatrical spinoff of a Star Wars television show, one that way fewer people watched than any given Star Wars movie, was always going to be a heavy lift. By most accounts, director Jon Favreau and his co-writer, Disney Star Wars honcho Dave Filoni, have dropped it like Luke Skywalker trying to levitate his X-Wing.
The headlines tell the story. “The Mandalorian and Grogu Probably Shouldn’t Have Been a Movie,” writes Vulture. “Latest in ‘Star Wars’ Franchise Makes Magic Of ‘A New Hope’ Seem Far, Far Away,” says Deadline. The Times of London has had it: ‘It’s time to kill off Star Wars for good,” proclaims a newspaper I believe is read by characters from Industry. The Force is not projected to be with the ticket sales, either.
I, however, am far less interested in this movie’s box-office death than I am in imagining a series of gruesome endings, perhaps thousands of them, for the little beast Grogu himself. I am not alone.
“The Mandalorian and Grogu have been found dead in what is believed to be a murder-suicide pact.” “Grogu killed in bear attack at Glacier National Park.” A picture of John Cena announcing the death of Osama bin Laden accompanied by the text “We killed that little grogu bastard. he is compromised to a permanent end.” Multiple iterations of the classic “Me and my friend would’ve killed [adorable alien from the Lucas/Spielberg Cinematic Universe] with hammers I can tell you that much” tweet, with Grogu instead of E.T. the guest of honor at the hammer party. In post after post, Grogu gets got.
I’ve been cracking jokes about Grogu for a while, writing that he was suspended from Disney for his comments on the death of Charlie Kirk, or that his movie was retitled Bastard of the Green Jedi in a Caligula-like porno version for the grindhouses, or that he is “Fuck the Pain Away” recording artist Peaches. For whatever reason, I find sticking this upsettingly adorable creature in increasingly adult situations very funny.
Naturally, the impulse to kill Grogu soon took root. Whereas others merely wanted to punch Grogu, I want him dead as hell. I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit creating images that promise pain and violence will be visited upon Grogu. Here’s Grogu buried up to his neck in the Roman Forum, waiting for Caligula’s Wall of Death to chop his head off.
Here’s Grogu in the closet with Brad Pitt at the end of Burn After Reading, doing their best “Oops!”
Here’s Grogu and Tommy from Goodfellas about to “get made.”
Just for fun, here’s Grogu as the evil entity Bob from Twin Peaks, spelling doom for his host body. Where Grogu goes, death walks.
What is motivating this murderous impulse against a character who, to look at him, is no more offensive than Hello Kitty? I spoke to some of his killers to find out.
“It’s a way to save all our brains,” says Jesse Hawken, who recently announced, “Good evening. Our top story tonight: Grogu is dead.” “This movie is being foisted on everyone as ‘your old buddy Grogu, back on the big screen’ when in fact Grogu is some Baby Yoda character from a Disney+ show that was popular over two years ago.”
“These are largely reactions to the age of U.S. monoculture, amplified by memes and ads,” echoes Stella Sacco, who related the sentiments of Grogu’s apparently estranged mother upon his passing. (“He will be flushed down a special toilet with an extra wide pipe designed for Yoda disposal. ‘Like a big green turd,’ [his mother] added.”)
“We don’t really hate Grogu. He’s just a little guy. We DO hate the Disney corporation, and why Grogu was created and what they use him for. ” That diminutive creature is effectively a sign the Mouse has posted at the entrance of the franchise: Your imagination must be this small to ride. Killing Grogu, then, is a way to fight back against the unceasing tide of Disney Star Wars Jedislop.
But violence directed against imaginary little guys is nothing new. “Ever since I was a young woman,” Sacco says, “I’ve thought cute fictional creatures suffering from the manifold indignities of mortality, before and during and after death, is extremely funny.” Grogu death fantasies harken back to a grand tradition of sticking puppies in a blender, from Wonder Showzen and Meet the Feebles, to Looney Tunes and Bambi Meets Godzilla, to ye olde Punch and Judy. Cruelty to the cute is comedy gold.
“Putting the word ‘Grogu’ in the title of a movie that is going to underperform is also funny,” Hawken notes. He’s right. Giving your bomb a unique and memorable title only deepens people’s sense that something hilariously bad has gone down; this is known as the Ishtar Principle..
Moreover, seeing the word “Grogu” over and over, in this era of Roku and Tubi and Wegovy and Ambulnz, is itself slightly maddening. It’s a reminder of the baby talk corporations now see fit to use when selling us everything from Baby Yodas to rides to the fucking hospital. Speaking for myself, that’s where I’m coming from when I let the little green monster have it. It’s my reaction to the crazy-making state of the world, about which I can do very little as one person—the diametric opposite of the individualized heroism of the Star Wars franchise (Andor excepted). The hate in my heart these days is inexhaustible, and it will be directed at Grogu until morale improves.
Not everyone needs a reason or a rationale to commit murder, of course. Some are simply swept along by the madness. That’s the case with legendary poster Leon, who expresses regret at having joined the bandwagon with posts like, “good news everyone! grogu drank too much last night and crashed his honda civic into a telephone pole and died.”
“Peer pressure,” Leon says of what drove him to destroy something beautiful. “I saw all my friends beating Grogu with hammers and they handed me a hammer. I’m not proud of myself. I’m a coward.”
