Disney’s Andor: New Hope for Star Wars

(Contains minor spoilers for “Andor”)

If you are a “Star Wars” fan, you probably already know about Disney’s sleeper hit series “Andor” which concluded its second (and final) series a few weeks ago. As a prequel to the movie “Rogue One”, “Andor” traces the story of the Rebel Alliance from its earliest stages through to the intelligence breakthrough that finally allows Luke Skywalker to destroy the Death Star in “Star Wars” Episode IV (“A New Hope”).

The show was only about three or four weeks old back in 2022 when I stumbled onto it with my son. We immediately knew that we were watching something special—and something very different from the “Star Wars” of recent decades. The settings and tone were grittier. The character motivations were more complex. The cost of rebellion, and its moral ambiguity, felt real. Somebody had tried to take “Star Wars” seriously.

“Andor” proves that there can be a “Star Wars” for grown-ups.

As a prequel to a prequel, “Andor” was released without much fanfare or expectation. It was overshadowed by more hullabalooed (and sometimes just booed) series such as “Obi-Wan”, “Ahsoka” and “The Acolyte”. Some who did watch the series complained that it was too slow. Others protested the absence of standard tropes—how could it be “Star Wars” without Jedi, Sith, the Force, or a cataract of briefly sampled alien worlds?

But time has vindicated the show with a growing audience and critical acclaim. “Andor” has proven that there can be a “Star Wars” for grown-ups. It appeals to the generation that grew up with the original trilogy but found the prequel movies too childish. It also serves those who, as children, did enjoy the prequels but now want something more. “Andor” makes “Star Wars” better.

Story and More

I realise that at this point I still haven’t written much about the story or its characters. I haven’t told you about Cassian Andor (Diego Luna), the main protagonist who is reluctantly drawn into the rebellion through a series of accidents. I haven’t told you about his Machiavellian handler Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård), or his adoptive mother Maarva (Fiona Shaw), or his former girlfriend Bix (Adria Arjona)—all of whom pay a price for resisting the Empire. I haven’t told you about the very human Imperial security operatives hunting Cassian and his associates.

“Andor” is a triumph of writing, acting, world-building, cinematography and a thousand subtle gestures.

Yet summarising the storylines of “Andor” could never do justice to it. It is a triumph of writing, acting, world-building, cinematography and a thousand subtle gestures. “Andor” trusts its audience to read its subtext and to see the nuances of its character development. Also remarkable for a modern Disney show, it allows us to think for ourselves rather than beating us over the head with doctrinaire messaging.

This last point is interesting for two reasons.

First, it is interesting because “Andor” tells the story of a revolution, and lesser producers might have wanted to turn the story into a cypher for contemporary politics. Some viewers have been unable to resist that temptation. But “Andor’s” themes are universal. We might allow that the show depicts a fight against a sort of “fascism” (if it is loosely defined as authoritarianism) but that’s about it.

Masterful Monologues

The second reason why Andor’s ideological restraint is noteworthy is that the show is built around speeches. Tony Gilroy gives his actors some dazzling moments of monologue:

Skarsgård’s Luthen, lamenting that he has “burned my decency … to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see;” Maarva Andor, spurring the workers of Ferrix into rebellion with a recorded speech at her own funeral. One  major turning point in the second season comes as Stateswoman Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly) denounces Emperor Palpatine and his lies with a stirring speech in the Senate:

The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. … When truth leaves us, when we let it slip away, when it is ripped from our hands, we become vulnerable to the appetite of whatever monster screams the loudest.

There are many other examples: prison capo Kino Loy (Andy Serkis), grasping for words as he exhorts the zeks of Narkina 5 to revolt; partisan Dreena of Ghorman (Ella Pellegrini) issuing a last radio transmission that echoes the desperate broadcasts of 1956 Budapest and 1968 Prague. If you want a glimpse of what the show achieves, an excerpt from that scene will provide it:

The speeches of “Andor” are weighty—almost too weighty for “Star Wars”. But they are doing what all good myths and fantasies do. They give us fictions that allow us to see and feel realities that our jaded senses have lost.

A Rebellion Built on (Dubious) Hope

Myths aren’t always good at providing solutions, however. One of the most significant speeches is a manifesto delivered by a young revolutionary (Nemik), modelled on a young Trotsky. Nemik’s words are repeated several times as the story goes on—becoming a rallying cry, and also an ideological defence:

There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy.
Remember this, Freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction. Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly throughout the galaxy. There are whole armies, battalions, that have no idea that they’ve already enlisted in the cause.
Remember that the frontier of the Rebellion is everywhere. And even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward.
And remember this: the Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear … (video clip of the same here)

Again, this is wonderfully moving and expresses some profound truth. Tyranny is unstable; the human drive for autonomy is spontaneous. But it is not at all obvious that there is anything natural or pure about freedom as a positive concept. “Andor” shows us the divisions and disagreements that exist between different rebel factions: some want anarchy; some want to partition the Galaxy; some aren’t thinking that far. At the start of season 2, we witness a stupid and murderous power struggle within a group of neo-republicans. By the end of the same season, the largest rebel alliance has turned its back on its former leader, Luthen.

Unfortunately, freedom is not a word or reality that comes to us “without instruction”

Unfortunately, freedom is not a word or reality that comes to us “without instruction”. Such a notion might make for a nice callback; it might appeal to contemporary Westerners who want to fight for truth and justice without having to interrogate their own assumptions. It fits with another refrain in the series that “rebellions are built on hope.”

And yet false hope is dangerous. Real revolutions are terrible and bloody and rarely lead to lasting freedom. Secular revolutions are worse. Without a sense that human worth comes from God, the calculus of lives sacrificed for gains achieved goes south fast. Without a sense of universal depravity, it is too easy to underestimate the difficulty of building a fairer society out of the blood-soaked rubble. When belief in eschatological deliverance fade, desperation and impunity lunge for the reins.

Hope from Beyond

And in the end, even “Andor” can’t help reaching for something more. In episode 7 of the last season, Cassian finally meets a woman with Force awareness—not a Jedi, just a cook with some healing powers. As she tends to his wounds she tells him what she senses about him: that the events that have shaped him are not accidental: “They’re gathering … There’s a purpose to it. There’s some place he needs to be.”

Cassian shrugs it off, but the audience, aware of what’s to come, knows she must be right. There is Something or Someone at work behind the scenes. There is Someone who has been shaping events for a good purpose, despite all the destruction and evil and misery. Bix suggests that whatever it is might be important; that Cassian should “let it in.”

There is no indication either in “Andor” or “Rogue One” that he does that. But I love that the story lifts the veil, even if it’s just for a moment. I am grateful that the storytelling instincts of Gilroy and his team were sharp enough to see that we need a different sort of hope.

Of course, none of this is to suggest that “Andor” is any sort of Christian story. The Force is far too vague a thing to be identified with any faith. And yet “Andor’s” grand fiction tells many true things about the richness and complexity of being human. It is humane in the best sense. It encourages us to wake up and resist evil. It tells us that our lives run parallel to a greater Purpose that will prevail in the end.

That’s the sort of hope we need today. Apparently, they also needed it a long time ago and in a Galaxy far away.