The Mandalorian is buckling under the weight of all this continuity

polygon.com:

In the business world, there’s a concept called scope creep. Unlike a lot of corporate jargon, scope creep means more or less what it says: It’s what happens when the scope of a given project slowly expands as it’s being worked on, eventually causing a problem where everyone involved is trying to solve too many problems at once, and the project’s initial goals begin to suffer. It’s a failure of planning — don’t articulate a goal clearly enough and you essentially invite sprawl, a bunch of unsatisfying answers to just as many vague questions, instead of a clear solution for something you need solved.

The Mandalorian has a scope creep problem. This is ironic, given how the series arrived seemingly fully formed: a spare, samurai-Western take on Star Wars that cribbed on Lone Wolf and Cub, following the Mandalorian Din Djarin and his young Yoda-like ward Grogu through the Galaxy’s scrappier side. But in its second season and beyond, The Mandalorian increasingly became a vehicle for clarifying Star Wars lore, ultimately leading to a frustrating third season that put its characters second in favor of untangling the spotty fictional history of Mandalore and its people, as they were presented in The Clone Wars and Rebels.

This, in and of itself, isn’t the problem. Calling a show The Mandalorian isn’t a promise to only be about the same Mandalorian, and in fact it invites questions about other Mandalorians and what became of them. The show doesn’t have to answer those questions, but creator Jon Favreau and Star Wars lore wonk Dave Filoni have decided that it will. That decision makes sense, even if the answers they deliver are a bit odd or divisive.

Considerable effort has been spent in season 3 expounding on the differences