Star Wars is in a strange place right now.
Directly behind us is The Book of Boba Fett, possibly the worst live action show since the 1978 Holiday Special. Just ahead, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the much anticipated but wholly superfluous story of Old Ben's Tatooine walkabout. The sole named feature film on the distribution slate, Rogue Squadron, appears to have been struck by the Disney-era curse of creative differences between Lucasfilm and a marquee director. A pile of unnamed film projects from a slew of Big Name filmmakers lies somewhere on the distant horizon. It is the Dark Times.
But, of course, central to Star Wars is hope. Right now, my hope lies not in Taika Waititi or Kevin Feige or Jon Favreau (creeping Marvelization is particularly disturbing) or even keeper of the flame Dave Filoni, but, ironically, in Rogue One writer Tony Gilroy's upcoming under-the-radar series Andor. Just a few more months to wait. Hope is alive.