If there’s one word that defines Resistance, it’s filler. It’s not as childish as Ewoks or Droids, but it never really takes off or brings anything truly memorable to the Star Wars universe. The cel-shaded animation style already feels off from the start. And the protagonist, Kazuda Xiono, is an overenthusiastic and clumsy pilot who’s hard to take seriously for most of the series. Add to that a supporting cast that borders on ridiculous—especially Neeku, the alien who feels like a badly written parody—and the result is disappointing. What’s most frustrating is that the story had potential: espionage inside an isolated station, the quiet rise of the First Order, and the New Republic’s slow loss of control. But all of that gets buried under tons of irrelevant episodes, forced humor, and a constant feeling that nothing is really happening. Sure, some recognizable villains like Phasma or Pyre are welcome, and characters like Yeager actually work—but they’re the exception. The finale improves things slightly, but it doesn’t make up for the overall dullness. For hardcore fans of the franchise with patience. For everyone else, it’s easily skippable.

It's clear this isn't meant for you if you already know who Darth Vader is, have argued over whether Mace Windu survived, or still get goosebumps when John Williams' score hits. Young Jedi Adventures is a preschool series designed to gently introduce the youngest viewers to the galaxy far, far away. With its vibrant animation, cute characters (Nubs is literally a plush toy wielding a lightsaber), and easy-to-follow morals about teamwork, patience, or saying sorry, it does what it’s supposed to do: be kind, cheerful, and keep a five-year-old’s attention. The problem is when you try to look at it from any other angle. There’s no second layer, no storylines that could appeal to older kids, and not even the occasional wink to long-time fans like other Star Wars kids' shows have done. Its biggest strength is its intention, but the execution is repetitive, harmless, and lacks any real narrative weight. For little ones, it might be a lovely first step into Star Wars. For everyone else… one episode is probably more than enough.

Although it was initially meant as a simple promotional teaser for Revenge of the Sith, the 2003 animated series created by Genndy Tartakovsky became something much more: an essential narrative bridge for true Star Wars fans. With its distinctive visual style —rough, schematic, almost minimalist— and a storytelling approach that prioritized pure action and symbolism over dialogue, Tartakovsky pulled off something that seemed impossible: saying more with less. What began as a series of three-minute silent shorts evolved into a work with its own identity, one that not only explained key moments of the saga (like the origin of Grievous’s cough or Anakin’s scar) but also managed to stir emotions and captivate viewers. The most fascinating thing about Clone Wars is its ability to condense epic moments, mysticism, and character development in just a few strokes. Anakin, for example, doesn’t need long speeches to show us his descent into darkness: a brutal duel on Yavin IV and one final look say it all. And while the animation might seem crude or exaggerated to some, it fits perfectly with the heroic, almost mythical tone of the series. Mace Windu crushing armies with his bare fists, Kit Fisto gliding through the water with lethal elegance, or Grievous’s chilling debut as a mechanical nightmare… these are unforgettable moments. It may no longer be part of the official canon, but for many, this remains the true missing link between Episodes II and III. And honestly, it’s hard to argue with the heart on that.

Watching Droids today feels like digging up a blurry memory from a time when Star Wars was trying to expand without really knowing how. The show, led by C-3PO and R2-D2, had good intentions: showing us their adventures before they joined the Rebellion. But beyond the nostalgic value and the built-in charm of these two droids, the result is a minor product—uneven and lacking clear direction. Each episode is basically a reset, with new "masters" and storylines that rarely manage to grab your attention. Neither the animation nor the writing ever takes off. It's nice that they tried to move outside the usual framework of the saga, but the whole thing ends up feeling like an empty, overly childish show with little ambition. That said, some people still remember the catchy intro song, and honestly, that might be the best thing about it. It’s a strange entry in the Star Wars universe—worth seeing only if you're a die-hard fan or a completist.

It’s honestly hard to defend this series, even from a nostalgic point of view. The first season, while far from good, at least tried to deliver small adventures on Endor’s forest moon with a touch of charm. It didn’t shine in terms of animation or writing, but it had some rhythm and introduced characters like Wicket, Kneesaa or Teebo in a friendly way. The real issue is the second season, which throws everything remotely decent out the window. The designs get worse, the settings feel overly simplified, and the tone becomes even more childish—borderline preschool level. It’s hard to believe something so clumsy is officially part of the Star Wars universe. Still, as weak as it is, there’s some merit to its place in Star Wars’ expanded history. For many, this was their first encounter with the saga as kids, which explains the affection some fans still hold. But watching it today, especially compared to any modern Star Wars content, Ewoks feels outdated, repetitive, and directionless. Only worth watching out of pure curiosity or galactic completism.