Star Wars prides itself on blending epic storytelling with groundbreaking visual effects while exploring timeless themes of heroism and redemption. It’s a galaxy we all know and love — populated by Jedi knights, Sith lords, dashing smugglers, greedy bounty hunters, and villainous emperors.

Even though it can be fantastical, it is also grounded with human stories. With Andor, the idea of telling the stories of ordinary people — people we can see ourselves in — taking a stand against oppression is a nice contrast, creating something refreshing and compelling.

Andor season 2 continues to examine the moral complexities of rebellion, the personal cost of resistance, and the bureaucratic nature of the Empire while also giving room to explore the title character’s transformation from thief to rebel leader and the sacrifices he has to make to bring down the Empire. Though creator and showrunner Tony Gilroy did not intend for his latest work to be a commentary on the current state of politics, it still feels contemporary. So even though Andor takes place in a galaxy far, far away, the themes of revolution against an oppressive regime hit close to home.

Unlike Andor season 1, which took place over a year, season 2 takes place in four years, moving forward one year after every three episodes. The long-form storytelling allows us to explore the character arcs with nuance and precision. Much like Rogue One visualized the story behind the heist of Death Star plans, Andor Season 2 dives into events like the Ghorman Massacre and reveals how the Empire manipulates tragedy to serve its own ends — particularly in extracting Ghorman’s raw materials for Krennic’s Death Star.

Even though we know how Andor’s story ends, the fact that we become so emotionally invested in these characters is a testament to Gilroy’s writing. Andor doesn’t mythologize what a revolution is; it humanizes it by reminding us of the sacrifices people have to make to fulfill their goals. We see their flaws, fears, ambitions, and hopes. Ultimately, it’s an untold part of Star Wars history based on a truth that parallels the world we live in today. As such, the performances are believable because the stories are resonant.

Though some may find the slow burn pacing slightly off-putting, the numerous setups lead to significant emotional payoffs and explosive action sequences. The conversations between these moments of setups and payoffs are equally engrossing as they provide insight into the lives of these characters and other key relationships.

What Andor does so well is turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. The character of Cassian may have been a part of a larger ensemble in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, but in Andor, we witness a transformation that takes place over four years on several different planets, exploring a wide range of choices made that would lead him to the person that we are introduced to in the film that started his journey.

Key missions early on in the season provide insight into his motivation for staying. While we’ve seen cynical characters believe in the cause, and we know how the story will end, the primary reason why we’ve become so emotionally invested in these characters is that Gilroy grounds the galaxy with a sense of nuanced realism. It is more about the fight to survive while also trying to maintain hope that the rebellion can succeed. These characters have real conversations with each other. The politics of it all resonate. The bureaucracy feels all too real. He wants us to care about these characters’ struggles and their fight to overcome their challenges.

Relationships between Andor (Diego Luna) and Bix (Adria Ajorna) redefine what a love story can be during times of revolution. The love they have for each other transcends the typical romance we’ve seen in Star Wars, but it is also complicated by the traumas they’ve experienced. Andor and Bix share a fight to survive during a time of oppression, which would then evolve as they can no longer be active participants, being thieves or selling scraps on the black market. However, they are reluctant to be a part of something bigger than themselves. It’s about what they can give, or how they can give themselves to the other, and therefore a cause. Here, love is behind the revolution. As such, sacrifices will have to be made for the greater good.

Contrast that to the transactional and emotionally detached relationship between Dedra Meero (Denise Gough) and Syril Karn (Kyle Soller). When working for a cold and systematic Intergalactic Empire, their toxic and unhealthy relationship represents the antithesis of Cassian and Bix’s relationship while maintaining a twisted sense of love. Syril craves attention and validation and believes that a relationship with the cold-hearted and calculated Dedra can exist in his reality. She manipulates him at every turn, and Syril is incredibly undermined by his superior. One piece of evidence is the incredibly awkward interactions between the two. They can’t have a causal dinner with Syril’s mother, Eedy Karn (Kathryn Hunter) — who delivers a masterclass in chilling maternal devotion and complex psychological manipulation. Even when the two are alone, the power dynamics between them are clear, with Syril seemingly keen on obedience. At the same time, Dedra cannot reciprocate because of her cold and emotionally distant demeanor.

Then, there are the other supporting characters to consider. The show further explores the relationship between Stellan Skarsgård’s Luthen Rael and Elizabeth Dulau’s Kleya Marki. Though seemingly transactional and emotionally distant, their father and daughter bond is defined by the mutual understanding of their commitment to the rebellion. Even when things seem like they are spiraling out of control and they question each other’s resolve, underneath all of that is a familial bond they’ve never experienced because of the hardships of war and oppression.

Genevieve O’Reilly’s Mon Mothma is equally crucial to the storytelling. Though she isn’t fighting on the front lines alongside Cassian, she uses her words as weapons. Her impassioned speeches are carefully constructed so as not to raise suspicion that she is a rebel sympathizer. Of course, when the Empire sees how much of an influence she has, based on the recording bugs they planted in her office, if she continues to live, they want to quickly silence the threat using the spies they planted in her inner circle. As such, the show reveals her gravitas by showcasing what she is risking and what she must sacrifice for the rebellion to continue to operate.

K-2SO’s (Alan Tudyk) reintroduction reveals not only how the sardonic droid had his meet-cute with a man hardened by war and sacrifice. The two often trade verbal barbs without missing a beat. Even when they are on high-stakes missions, they even manage to sneak in some barbs. There’s even some room for physical humor.

Andor isn’t like any other Star Wars series or film we’ve seen before because Gilroy dares to break the mold with character-driven storytelling, morally complex heroes, and a tone that swaps spectacle for slow-burning tension, political intrigue, and emotional truth. Certain story arcs are shockingly bold and not in a plot twist kind of way, but they can only be described as something you can’t believe goes there, especially in the world of Star Wars. Since the show already deals with mass genocide, it stands to reason that other forms of violence exist within the galaxy. How Ajorna handles the scene with such delicacy gives victims agency and a voice. It’s a scene that raises awareness and demands accountability for the depicted violence.

Underneath its wartime and espionage exterior is a love story. It’s hard to believe that any romance or family bonds can exist in a show that is downtrodden by political intrigue, bureaucracy, fighting to survive, psychological manipulation, and trauma. Gilroy’s writing finds the light within the dark by giving us characters to care about. The acts of courage and heavy dialogue don’t mean that there’s no action, though. It is a Star Wars show, after all. When it goes into the action, it walks a fine line between being cinematic and emotional. The latter of which comes through when the Ghorman Massacre happens. Again, the larger setups lead to this crucial event in the Star Wars lore. It’s a moment that is earned thanks in no small part to the way that Gilroy’s writing sets up the transpiring events.

The show doesn’t waste its time with unnecessary filler. Every single narrative piece, every character, is essential to the story that Gilroy is telling. Nicholas Britell’s astounding score is a sonic tapestry that elevates the series’ emotional trajectory. Even Luke Hull‘s tactile set pieces and Michael Wilkinson’s beautiful costumes play a role in the series’ world-building. From the metaphor-rich class planet of Coruscant, a peaceful farming community of Mina Rau which the Empire heavily surveils, the figuratively and literally cold Maltheen Divide where the Empire discusses their plans to justify their Ghorman oppression to obtain the planet’s precious raw material for their energy initiative helps develop the character arcs and advance the stories. Even the fashion-forward Ghorman gives us a look at the complexity of how the voices of the people come into conflict with each other when it comes to protesting the Empire’s actions.  

Andor isn’t just a look back on a piece of Star Wars history, its a streaming event that deepens the importance of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. By chronicling these untold backstories of ordinary people, audiences have a better understanding of the decisions that are made and the price of courage in the face of fear and oppression. It is less about exploring the rich and complex mythology of the Force and destiny and more about the lore of the underrepresented and how they’ve built a rebellion from the ground up.

9.5/10