Andor season 2 review: Episodes 1-3

Warning: This review briefly discusses sexual violence.

The first story arc of Andor’s second season had an almost unparalleled amount of hype to live up to, given that we’ve been waiting almost two and a half years to see what’s next from the best Star Wars show ever made. The first three-episode block — “One Year Later,” “Sagrona Teema,” and “Harvest” — wasn’t flawless, but it definitely delivered the goods. We got heaping doses of political allegory both historical and contemporary, a shocking personal betrayal, a glamorous wedding, and an unexpected romance, along with one of the most disturbing scenes that Star Wars has ever produced.

Let’s dive in.

A stranded protagonist

One year after fleeing Ferrix, Cassian Andor is in a very different place. No longer the apolitical loner, he’s a committed member of Luthen Rael’s rebel cell — and the season premiere finds him mentoring a new agent in a manner that recalls his own recruitment by Luthen. The rousing pep talk about the importance of rebelling that Cassian gives Niya, the young Sienar defector, is both a useful reminder of the cause at the heart of the show and an indication of how far Cassian has come since Ferrix. “You’re coming home to yourself,” Cassian says. “You’ve become more than your fear. Let that protect you.” This is a beautiful way of expressing how someone feels when they finally stand up to the evil that has cocooned them for so long: scared, yes, but also hopeful, reinvigorated, and proud.

The scene with Cassian and Niya reveals a lot about his approach to field work. While Luthen takes a cold, almost pitiless approach to dealing with assets, Cassian uses a softer touch. He encourages Niya to break the stifling rules that she was given (don’t look at Cassian, don’t ask him any questions about himself), which puts her more at ease, and he reassures her that her nervousness is nothing to be ashamed of, that it’s actually good because it will keep her alert (something he told Nemik in season 1).

After escaping Sienar, Cassian flies his stolen TIE Avenger to the planet where he’s supposed to hand it off. But things don’t go according to plan, and what follows is a storyline that starkly illustrates the precarious state of the nascent rebel movement.

Immediately upon landing, Cassian is captured by a ragged band that turns out to be the survivors of the depleted Maya Pei Brigade, and from the moment they surround him, it’s clear that they’re in dire straits. Even as they order Cassian to surrender, they bicker amongst themselves, offering a funny but telling glimpse at how fractious, unprofessional, and unharmonious this group is. There are other signs of discord: None of them trust the rest enough to stay behind while their comrades escape, worrying about being left behind, and they can’t even agree on whether or not Pei is dead, with one group doubting the other group’s leader’s account of her demise. These moments show us how thin the bonds holding rebel groups together can be. Without their leader, these guerillas are a shell of their former cohesion and purpose.

But as clear as it was that the Maya Pei rebels were falling apart, I didn’t expect them to start shooting at each other. Still, this worked well as a stark reality check on the inchoate state of the rebel movement. We’ve spent so many years with rebels who work well together, respect each other, and agree on what they’re fighting for that it’s jarring to see such chaos and even violence among people who are supposedly on the same team. It’s a welcome reminder that the Rebellion wasn’t always as (relatively) kumbaya as it had become by the time of the Original Trilogy — that the origin of all of this was much messier, more discordant, and more undisciplined.

The misunderstandings continue after the shooting breaks out, with a really bleak opening scene to the second episode in which the two rebel factions hunt for pieces of their dead comrades across the rain-soaked forest clearing. Each side mistakenly assumes that the other has mistreated a dead body, which only fuels their simmering animosities toward each other. Later, when the rebels finally decide to meet under a flag of truce, they intone “For Maya!” to each other — underscoring how only their leader’s residual authority can unite them now.

Another remarkable sign of rebel disunity comes when Cassian reveals that his group has been supplying Maya Pei’s team all along. In a more unified movement, the people offering supplies would have some way of making this known to the people receiving the supplies, thus ensuring their gratitude or at least peaceful conduct. But these people have no idea who Cassian is; they’re so isolated and suspicious that they don’t even believe that he’s been helping them, let alone feel they should cut him some slack because of that.

Cassian echoes Luthen’s view when he tells his captors, “We’re all part of the same rebellion.” But they don’t see it that way. Earlier, when he says he’s also part of the rebellion, they shoot back, “Whose rebellion?”

I’m of two minds about this whole storyline. I understand its narrative importance in establishing how far the Rebellion still has to go, but it was definitely the weakest part of this first block of episodes. It just wasn’t very interesting, especially for how central it was to the story arc. A big part of the problem is that this was our title character’s storyline, but he didn’t really do anything during it. He mostly sat around as things happened around him. All we saw him do was steal a ship at the beginning and rescue his friends with that ship at the end. Everything in between, during his captivity, was stuff that he just watched happen and occasionally commented on. For the main character of the show to be sidelined like that was pretty disappointing. I want to see Cassian in action, not Cassian inaction.

That being said, I love the twist that Cassian’s captivity took place on Yavin 4. Setting it there is the perfect way to connect its message about rebel disunity with the eventual outcome of rebel organizing that leads to the Alliance’s first great victory. The way the episode revealed the twist by panning up over the treeline to show the iconic Massassi Temples was excellent.

Systemic abuse

While distrust and recriminations plague the rebels on Yavin 4, things are similarly uneasy beneath the surface on the farming planet Mira-Rau, where Cassian’s friends are hiding out from the Empire. Bix, Brasso, and Wilmon are working as undocumented “toolies,” both physically and socially divorced from the residents who own land or have visas to work it. This social hierarchy creates friction when people of different statuses, like Wilmon and Beela, want to mingle.

I really enjoyed the Mina-Rau storyline for its depiction of an important in-universe dynamic — the relationship between the Empire and its resource suppliers — through a lens with timely real-world resonance. Mina-Rau is a not-so-subtle allegory for the American immigration system: The Imperials depend on Mina-Rau’s grain, so they’re willing to tolerate some undocumented people working the fields — but only up to a point, and that point is entirely at their discretion. As general-store owner Kellen puts it, the Imperials know that not everyone is legal, but no one can predict “how hard they look” or “what they do” about what they find. The Mina-Rau farmers’ conversation with Cassian’s friends about how to avoid capture — with Talia offering to vouch for them because she’s “legal” — obviously parallels the real-world anxieties of undocumented immigrants in the U.S. and the powerful influence of legal status in daily life. Without the right papers, it’s difficult to live, work, or even socialize.

But even the legal workers providing the regime with resources have something to fear from its capriciousness. With the Empire tearing Kellen’s community apart, he tells Brasso that someone has to spread the word about what’s happening on Mina-Rau. Brasso’s response is that it’s happening everywhere. Kellen and his family epitomize the oppressed galactic residents who don’t feel like anyone knows or cares about their plight. It can be incredibly demoralizing to feel so isolated and so vulnerable.

All of this isn’t just some gratuitous political allegory. The way the Empire treats people like Cassian’s friends and their farmer neighbors is a huge part of what will motivate people to join the growing Rebellion. At this point in the timeline, it’s important that we see this kind of inciting mistreatment up close.

Still, I wasn’t prepared for just how intimate the Mira-Rau storyline’s depiction of Imperial oppression would get. As Imperials scour the planet during a surprise audit, Bix endures another incredibly traumatizing experience, one that shows a horrifically intimate side of the Empire’s arrogant and violent caprice.

Andor sets the stage for Bix by showing us her nightmare about Doctor Gorst, her Ferrix torturer, finding her and invading her home. This chilling scene reintroduces us to Bix by emphasizing how profoundly Gorst’s torture has damaged her. The shot of Gorst appearing in the mirror, satisfying our curiosity about who is walking through the makeshift house, is really scary. But Gorst is just a dark phantasm. The real danger is about to appear.

The Imperial lieutenant we meet on Mina-Rau, Krole, quickly establishes himself as a vile, arrogant man. Within minutes of meeting Bix, he threat-flirts with her, asking her out while warning her that the comm blockade has cut her off from her “husband.” This scene is unsettling enough, but Andor doesn’t stop there. When Krole returns later, he is intent on getting what he wants from Bix, setting up one of the most horrific things that Star Wars has ever shown us.

After telling Bix that he knows she’s “illegal,” Krole tries to force himself on her as she begs him not to. We’ve seen a lot of Imperial cruelties on this show, but I definitely was not expecting to see an attempted rape. It was beyond disturbing to watch Krole move in on Bix as she stood there quivering with dread. But as much authority as Krole has, Bix has physical strength and willpower and isn’t afraid to use either. The resulting fight was brutal and terrifying, with some of the grappling being especially tough to watch. Rarely have I rooted so hard for someone to kill an Imperial officer or been more relieved when they did so. Krole was the epitome of a depraved fascist toady, callously abusing his power over vulnerable people in sickening ways, and the galaxy is much better off without him in it.

I don’t feel qualified to wade too deeply into the debate over whether this storyline was appropriate for Andor. But what I will say is that, while Krole’s predation was obviously deeply upsetting to watch, it was also a realistic example of the kind of oppression that’s been woven throughout this show. Anyone who understands fascist dictatorships knows that sexual violence would be happening throughout the Empire. There is value in making the abuses of fascism impossible to ignore, in taking a previously implicit fact and making it explicit. It shouldn’t be comfortable to watch something like this —just hearing the word “rape” in Star Wars was shocking — but I respect Andor for thoughtfully challenging the idea of what a Star Wars story can address.

A barbaric plot

Another disturbing storyline in this block of episodes introduced a conflict that we know will turn into a legendary flashpoint in the history of the Star Wars galaxy. In a mountaintop fortress in the Maltheen Divide (“On” the Maltheen Divide? “At” the Maltheen Divide? It’s unclear what the Maltheen Divide actually is), a carefully selected group of Imperial officers discuss ways to acquire a precious resource for a high-stakes project.

Right away, Director Orson Krennic tells us that this scheme is so secret that even Colonel Wullf Yularen and Governor Wilhuff Tarkin haven’t been briefed on it yet and that “any security violation will be brought to the Emperor’s personal attention.” This is obviously an extremely sensitive — and important — operation. The stakes have been established. But what exactly is this all about?

Given the time period and Krennic’s involvement, I was expecting this meeting to be more explicitly about the Death Star. So when the campy newsreel began telling us about Ghorman twill, I was really surprised. The contrast between the malevolent and secretive vibes of the high-security bad-guy meeting and the upbeat, 1950s-esque energy of the infomercial about exotic fabric made for a very funny scene. Even the officials in the briefing seemed to recognize the discordance between their hush-hush setting and the cheery newsreel. There were some great reaction shots of puzzled officials watching the video and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

We’ve known for a while that season 2 would deal with Ghorman, and creator Tony Gilroy’s recent interviews have confirmed that we’ll see the infamous Ghorman Massacre itself, so the first mention of Ghorman here is fraught with emotional weight, given what we know comes next. But by introducing the Empire’s interest in Ghorman in such a thoroughly unexpected way, the scene almost delights in subverting its own momentousness. It’s a really smart way to establish this storyline.

As Krennic explains, the Empire’s “Energy Initiative” remains Palpatine’s top priority (his goal, we’re told with a meta wink, is “unlimited power”), but it has a secondary purpose beyond economic growth and galactic unity: Ghorman kalkite is necessary for coating the Death Star’s reactor lenses. This fact underscores how massively complex and resource-intensive the Death Star project is, and how much time its overseers like Krennic spend dealing with minutiae like resource collection problems. It really demonstrates how these kinds of challenges are the bread-and-butter of building a superweapon, and how, in order for Tarkin to have a shiny toy with which to menace rebellious worlds, Krennic and his colleagues have to solve fairly anodyne problems like kalkite acquisition.

As a side note, I love how the episode doesn’t even mention the Death Star. Krennic says “we’ve promised delivery in three years” and mentions “the reactor lenses,” but he doesn’t elaborate, which only makes the project feel more menacing.

And it’s not just the looming endgame of the Death Star that adds menace here. This meeting about subjugating Ghorman unmistakably echoes the 1942 Wannsee Conference, where the Nazis planned the “Final Solution to the Jewish Question,” laying the groundwork for the Holocaust.

Every detail of these conference-room scenes contributes to the sinister atmosphere. At one point, an Imperial officer picks up some dainty finger food while proposing the idea of staging a plague or natural disaster to push out the Ghormans, to which another casually replies that they’ve gamed out those possibilities and they become too messy. That these people can discuss mass murder with the air of cocktail-party small talk is ghastly stuff.

The language in these scenes is also carefully crafted. Asked how invasive the kalkite extraction is, one official initially responds, “It would present stark challenges to the local population.” (We learn that the Empire expects the extraction to affect nine cities and 800,000 people.) Oblique verbiage like this, which refers only abstractly to the Empire’s contemplated mass violence, is a key element of authoritarian oppression, and Andor effectively uses it to illustrate the rhetorical tactics of despots.

The most unsettling part of the Ghorman meeting is the presentation by officials from the Ministry of Enlightenment, the Imperial propaganda agency. The MoE is a deliciously Orwellian element to introduce into Andor’s tapestry of Imperial bureaucracy, and it’s perfectly suited to the task of justifying planetary subjugation. The ministry’s strategy is as chilling as the cheerful tone in which its representatives explain it: Alienate people from the Ghormans by casting them as privileged elite merchants removed from the struggles of ordinary consumers, thus sullying their reputation to the point where Imperial citizens feel comfortable shrugging off any mistreatment of them, thereby laying the groundwork for their subjugation.

The Imperial plan to demonize the Ghormans has clear parallels to the Nazis’ dehumanization of Jews, disabled people, and other eventual targets of the Holocaust. The MoE’s description of the Ghormans as untrustworthy, unscrupulous, greedy, and at odds with mainstream values chillingly echoes the way the Nazis talked about Jews as they fomented violent antisemitism. The Imperial propagandists even crow about how they plan to associate the Ghormans with their galaxy-famous spiders — secretive, aloof, heedless of rules — in the public imagination. By comparing a group of people to animals, especially uncharismatic ones, authoritarians can shape perceptions of their targets, suppress sympathy for them, and weaken social barriers to their marginalization and oppression.

Importantly, for the MoE’s strategy to work, even the Ghormans’ objections to Imperial mistreatment must be delegitimized — hence the MoE propagandists casting Ghorman outrage over the shutdown of their shipping lanes as merely evidence of those vainglorious merchants selfishly putting “Ghorman pride” above galactic wellbeing. “Didn’t it seem as if the Ghor were doing what they always do?” one MoE propagandist asks, demonstrating the intended rhetorical ploy. “Putting themselves first.”

The proud way in which these MoE officials discuss their subtle influence on public opinion is deeply disturbing. It’s not just what they do; it’s how frank they are about it — and how confident they are that it will work. Andor suggests, almost offhandedly, that the people of the galaxy are hopelessly susceptible to Imperial propaganda.

Interestingly, though, Andor establishes that Ghorman isn’t some marginalized backwater — it’s a famous and politically influential planet. That makes its looming devastation even more noteworthy. And in the short term, as Krennic points out, it requires the Empire to get more creative about subjugation plans. This is one difference between the Ghorman Massacre and the Holocaust, and I’ll be very curious to see how effectively the MoE is able to erode Ghorman’s stature.

Among the attendees of this Star Wars Wannsee Conference are Imperial Security Bureau supervisor Dedra Meedro and her boss, Major Lio Partagaz. Roping Dedra into the Ghorman plot is a great way to both keep her relevant this season and challenge her sense of priorities.

I love the scene where Partagaz tells Dedra to accept Krennic’s offer to oversee the Ghorman project. Partagaz, as usual, has valuable wisdom for Dedra. But it’s also interesting to see them speak more as colleagues than as boss and underling. Partagaz still outranks Dedra, but for a couple of reasons — Dedra’s growing tenure at the ISB, the shared experience of their secret meeting with Krennic — he treats her as more of a peer than he used to. Partagaz astutely observes that by taking command on Ghorman, Dedra will be positioning herself for greatness once the inevitable conflict there erupts.

Dedra, however, objects, arguing that her time is better spent focusing on the rebel mastermind “Axis.” The fact that Dedra is still obsessed with Luthen is a great reminder of how zealous and determined she can be. But as Partagaz points out, those qualities aren’t enough at the ISB; you need results. “Next time,” he says, “catch them first, then make them famous.”

Unexpected lovers

But the Ghorman project offer isn’t the only thing weighing on Dedra’s mind in these first three episodes, because it turns out that at some point in the past year, Dedra and Syril began a romantic relationship. I definitely wasn’t expecting this, and to be honest, I don’t like it — at least not yet. I’m struggling to understand what Dedra sees in Syril, much less why she’s interested in carving out time in her life for a relationship. It just feels out of character for her to give any thought to this part of her life. That being said, Andor has surprised us before, and I’m willing to change my mind about the merits of this plot point if Dedra and Syril’s relationship goes somewhere interesting in the future.

As much as I don’t like Dedra and Syril being together, I did find their dinner with Syril’s mother Eedy hilarious. Even Dedra’s preparation for the dinner was great. It’s extremely funny to see such a severe, no-nonsense person vacillating over what outfit to wear to a meal. Her smile to herself in the mirror is actually kind of frightening — it might be the first time we see her attempt a genuine smile.

Dedra started season 1 as a relatable underdog trying to impress in her first days at a new job. By the end of the season, she was the clear villain, having committed unspeakable acts on Ferrix. Here at the beginning of season 2, we’re seeing her in another relatable light, this time as the woman nervously awaiting the judgment of her partner’s mother. And at first, Eedy’s interactions with Dedra are peculiar — she’s not cold or rude, she’s just eccentric, but that’s still hard for Dedra to handle. Eedy’s weary-mom shtick is as funny as ever, as she takes every opportunity to needle Syril about his lack of attention to her. Initially, Dedra is chiefly worried with getting Eedy to like her, even to the point of dismissing Syril’s concern about Eedy dripping food sauce on Dedra’s table. But soon, Dedra changes tactics with Eedy.

Dedra’s shift begins as she recounts her backstory: her parents were criminals, and she was raised in a foster home. This explains a lot about her severe personality; Eedy is correct that she never knew “a mother’s love.” Dedra isn’t in the mood for that sentiment — she needles Eedy by wryly observing that she and the other kids clearly “didn’t know what we were missing” — but behind the barb, there’s a real truth to the idea that Dedra was deeply shaped by her grim, loveless childhood.

Soon enough, Eedy’s mockery of Syril’s security job, Syril’s somewhat feeble response, and Syril fleeing the table convince Dedra to act. She reprimands Eedy for her “game” of being thoughtlessly cruel to Syril and promises to convince Syril to pay more attention to Eedy if she treats him with more respect. She even hits Eedy over Uncle Harlo’s criminal past, neutralizing one of Eedy’s favorite talking points. Dedra’s assertiveness at first puts Eedy on the defensive, but eventually, it works. This is the Dedra we were waiting to see at the dinner — the scheming, commanding presence, the woman who doesn’t tolerate foolish obstacles to her objectives. I love the tiny, cynical smile that Dedra gives Eedy after she changes her behavior. She’s acknowledging Eedy’s early signs of improvement, like a parent praising a child’s good manners.

Betrayal at the wedding¹

I’ve saved this block of episodes’ best storyline for last. On the opulent, picturesque planet of Chandrila, Senator Mon Mothma anxiously awaits the marriage of her daughter Leida to local scumbag Davo Sculdun’s son Stekan. But to her surprise and ours, her biggest problem turns out to be one of her closest friends.

On a rewatch, it’s much easier to see how well Andor sets up Chandrilan banker Tay Kolma’s mounting impatience and frustration at not being able to talk to Mon. They share a few brief moments in episode 1, but they keep getting pulled apart. The show does a great job of making Tay’s desire for a chat seem innocent at first (we assume it’s about her money-moving scheme), while quietly setting up the fact that Mon is going to put him off for days, deepening his frustration. Things start to get tense when Tay tells Mon that some of his business interests have dried up, putting him in financial peril. His revelation that he and his wife have separated adds another layer of tension, fueling people’s suspicions about Mon and Tay’s closeness.

Eventually, Tay tells Mon that he’s worried about the risk he’s incurred by helping her with her banking issues. Now that his own finances have worsened, his need for protection is even more acute. And there it is: Tay begins blackmailing Mon by threatening to expose her, sending her a pointed message with the comment that “rebel activity soured my investments.”

Tay’s comments about being timid are a not-so-subtle hint that he’s considering speaking up about Mon’s rebel ties. His reference to frequently spending time with Sculdun is meant to alarm Mon, who will take it as a sign that he might be sharing her secrets with an untrustworthy person. And his suggestion that Sculdun could be “very helpful” to him is designed to pressure Mon to help him first. His reference to him and Mon meeting on Coruscant “next week” sounds innocent enough but seems calculated to remind Mon of how long she plans to delay a solution to a serious problem — in other words, how long she’s leaving herself vulnerable. Tay is playing a dangerous game, but he chooses the right pressure points to hit.

I love this turn of events. Both Mon and the audience have gotten used to thinking of Tay as a reliable ally, so turning him into a cold-hearted adversary is a smart way to throw both her and us off-balance and remind us of the brutal realities of politics.

And as if Tay didn’t give Mon enough to deal with, she also has to navigate her precarious relationship with Leida. The senator and her daughter have never been close, so it can’t be easy for Leida to talk to Mon about her soon-to-be-husband’s immaturity, nor can it be easy for Mon to comfort Leida as she undergoes a ritual that Mon loathes but was forced to put her through. As the ceremony approaches, Mon, seized by guilt, tries one last time to persuade Leida to think about what’s best for her. But Leida is too wrapped up in tradition. She can’t imagine not going through with the wedding. Her disdain for her mother resurfaces as she tells Mon that she’d rather have a drunk mother at her wedding than a discouraging one. Once again, you can acutely feel Mon’s pain at being rejected so thoroughly by her daughter.

I can’t say enough good things about Genevieve O’Reilly’s standout performance in these three episodes. She does an incredible job of portraying Mon’s growing discomfort with Tay. It begins when she hears about him getting so drunk that he had to be escorted home. At that point, she clearly starts to suspect that something is very wrong with him — and given how central he is to her, that means that something could soon be very wrong with her. Later, O’Reilly delivers a masterclass in facial acting as she portrays Mon’s realization that Tay is blackmailing her. I love her sorrowful smile as she acknowledges Tay’s needs, and her fidgeting posture as she assures him that she doesn’t hold this against him.

Leida and Stekan’s wedding dance is beautiful, but Mon barely seems to notice it. Her eyes flicker with nerves and barely contained tears as she tries to process Tay’s betrayal. O’Reilly shines in this scene as a normally composed senator whose entire world seems to be quietly falling apart.

At the end of the third episode, O’Reilly does a wonderful job of portraying Mon as practically floating around on auto-pilot, fully overwhelmed by the Tay situation and by Luthen’s proposed solution to it. Strikingly, Mon actually gets drunk — ironically, the very thing that she found alarming when Tay did it, and the thing that Leida said she would have preferred to a sober but discouraging mom. Mon barely seems to register the relentless techno music as she dances (or really, flails around) to it. It’s as if she’s disassociating, as if her mind — normally cautious to a fault — has essentially shut down.

Luthen, by contrast, handles the situation calmly and with grim determination. He almost seems to realize that something is seriously wrong with Tay before Mon does. During their initial conversation about the problem, Luthen seems to be thinking ahead better than Mon is. He wonders if Tay will talk to Sculdun; Mon can’t imagine he would. Luthen says Mon can’t let the situation with Tay fester; Mon thinks it can wait until after the wedding. Mon knows the situation is bad, but you get the sense that only Luthen knows just how bad it is.

Mon is still stunned by her close friend’s betrayal, but Luthen doesn’t have time for that. “People fail,” he tells her, in one of the story arc’s best bits of dialog. “That’s our curse.” Luthen has been in this game long enough to know that you can’t really trust anyone. You always have to be prepared for your allies to betray you. Mon is shaken up by the blackmail; she’s not yet cynical enough for the game she’s playing.

Luthen tells Mon that there’s only one surefire way to protect her. “I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Mon responds. “How nice for you,” Luthen tells her. It’s a brilliant bit of writing, a comprehensive contrast of their personas packed into a handful of just-subtle-enough words. Mon not understanding Luthen means she’s not wired to think that darkly, which is a state of innocence that Luthen can only envy. Only afterward does Mon realize what he’s proposing, which sets her on the path to a very drunken night.

Other thoughts about the characters

• Syril has carved out a niche for himself at the Bureau of Standards. Thanks to his restless, hyperactive personality and his inability to let a small irregularity go, he discovered “a cabal of corrupt purchasing agents” stealing supplies in multiple sectors, and now he’s senior enough that he’s the one giving recruits the “There are no small jobs” speech that he got a year earlier.
• Of course Syril can’t resist the urge to straighten a utensil on the table. A perfect little habit for his character.
• Perrin urges the marrying couple to find the hidden joys and amusements in life when pain threatens to overwhelm them. It’s a nice sentiment, but you can also see how it reflects his immaturity and unseriousness, qualities that constantly vex Mon.
• It’s great to see Krennic again. He has such a unique style and personality, and they’re a great addition to the Andor milieu, especially the way he interacts with Dedra. He wasn’t very powerful in Rogue One, so it’s nice to see him in his element, brandishing his authority (mentioning that he just spoke to the Emperor) and showing us how he reached such a high rank in the first place.
• That being said, I don’t know how I feel about Krennic’s boisterous hand gestures and body movements. He seems a little less circumspect and formal than he does in Rogue One.
• I do like how Krennic has no patience for Dedra’s double-talk and just wants her to say what she thinks. It’s refreshing to see someone other than Partagaz take her down a notch.
• I love that Luthen is a friend of the Sculdun family and bought the newlyweds an extravagant, historically important gift. It’s a reminder of the extent and depth of his influence and the lengths he goes to keep tabs on people who become important to the cause.
• Vel reveals that Luthen won’t tell her what Cinta is up to. Mon thinks that’s unacceptable, but Vel is conditioned to accept it as the price of the cause. The stressful distance in Vel and Cinta’s relationship apparently hasn’t improved, which is really sad.
• I love how Cinta appears at the end of the episode as Tay’s new driver. It’s the perfect way to reveal that Luthen has put in motion his plan to eliminate the threat of Tay’s betrayal. Cinta’s lethal reputation is such that just seeing her deceiving Tay tells us that he’s marked for death. The surface-level pleasantries that happen on screen contrast with our dawning realization that Tay is probably living out his final moments.
• Cinta and Vel’s estrangement adds another layer of drama to her sudden appearance on Chandrila. Vel realizes the same thing we do when she sees Cinta, but neither can say a word to each other. Vel got so close to her girlfriend, but duty kept them separate even when they were mere feet apart.
• Kleya and Vel have a really interesting relationship, and I love that we’re seeing more of it. Commenting on the party scene around them, Kleya hits Vel with a barb about her privileged upbringing. Vel hits back that this must explain why Kleya doesn’t trust her.
• I love the moment when Kleya tells Vel that they should pretend to be “just two single women surveying the prospects.” Vel, who isn’t single and wouldn’t be interested in the expected prospects anyway, gives Kleya a contemptuous up-and-down look before walking away.
• Brasso, a hero to the last, pretends to blame Kellen for ratting him out to spare him and his family any Imperial retaliation. Kellen gives Brasso a small, shocked nod as he realizes what Brasso did.

The funniest scenes

• The comedic highlight of this story arc comes when Luthen is talking to some random Imperial cadet. When the cadet tells him that he and his comrades are about to be transferred off of Steergard, Luthen asks with extravagantly feigned innocence, “Where’s everyone going?” It’s a little reminder that Luthen is always working, always trying to gather intelligence.
• The moment where the dramatic music amps up and then Cassian accidentally rams the TIE Avenger into the back of the landing bay is so funny. It’s a perfect subversion of the expected heroic escape. So is the moment later on when Cassian realizes that the ship has a super-powerful laser and the camera cuts to the outside of the hangar as laser blasts cut holes in the door and he blasts outward.
• Syril lying on his bed in weary resignation is hilariously relatable and instantly meme-worthy. You can fully appreciate the weight of the stress that his mother’s visit is causing him.
• Mon and Luthen have a wryly funny exchange at the wedding: “He’s terrible at keeping secrets.” “Oh, I’ve been practicing.”
• I adore the exchange between Bix and Wilmon when Bix sees Wilmon’s girlfriend Beela bringing them water in the grain field. “Thirsty?” Bix asks teasingly. “Can you just be normal?” Wilmon begs her. It’s light, playful, and very grounded and human.
• The Ghorman presentation narrator has some great lines that really evoke the peppy 1950s newsreels that clearly inspired the video: “Time to rise and start spinning!” “The experts have a fancier word. Don’t they always?”
• I love the disco droid. It makes sense in-universe, but it’s also a fun futuristic extension of a real-world concept.
• As others have pointed out, the wedding represented a great Mamma Mia! reference.

Great world-building moments

• Mon’s aide Erskin tells her that the governor’s ship is taking up too many parking spots. It’s simultaneously a mundane snag and a telling indication of the Empire’s overweening arrogance, even in a cordial setting.
• When Cassian lands on Yavin 4, he expects to hand off the TIE Avenger to his contact Porko. But he’s soon captured by another rebel group, who reveal that they’ve killed Porko for trying to escape them. The way Cassian’s straightforward operation goes sideways because of this unexpected glitch in the plan is a great way to emphasize how dangerous and unpredictable life in the Rebellion is.
• Luthen and Kleya’s worrying over Cassian’s status is a reminder of how difficult secret operations are for both the operators and their handlers. Being in the dark can be almost as stressful as being on the ground.
• Cassian yells at Kleya about not being prepared for the TIE Avenger mission. It’s another reminder of the thankless precariousness of Rebel life — you never know what unknown crisis you’ll be thrust into next. People like Kleya will never really understand the anxiety and seat-of-your-pants lifestyle of people like Cassian, and that divide is very pronounced when the two speak. Kleya urges calm and caution and wants answers; Cassian responds with frustration, impatience, and — once he hears about Mina-Rau — an impulse to take action.
• Episode 1 does a great job of making the TIE Avenger seem advanced and different from your average TIE. Its interior features flip up into place, its controls are unfamiliar even to a veteran rebel like Cassian, and its weapons and shields are leagues beyond standard.
• During the pre-wedding hike, Perrin and Davo Sculdun discuss Chandrilan hunting grounds that were off-limits to poachers. We learn that Sculdun ignored the warnings and poached anyway (“I wasn’t much for warnings”), which further reinforces his amoral-businessman persona.
• The Chandrilan wedding ritual is as unsettling as we might have expected: Leida is asked to see her marriage as her whole future, the betrothal is framed as her joining her husband’s social circle (certainly not vice versa), the couple’s parents circle them as if to hem them in, and the boy defiantly vows to keep his bride’s father’s knife in a declaration that almost feels like it’s equating the knife with the bride.
• I love that Andor introduces a Star Wars version of Rock Paper Scissors, “Five Hands,” and I love how the ominous leadup to the game makes it sound like a much more dangerous competition, like maybe a duel or something.
• It’s fittingly tragic that Cassian’s heroic arrival isn’t enough to save all of his friends. Even in victory, bad things can happen. Brasso’s death, as abrupt and unceremonious as it is heart-wrenching, is another reminder to Cassian that insurgency is ugly, unpredictable, and unfair. Brasso was Cassian’s rock — his protector and conscience. I can only imagine what losing him will do to Cassian’s psyche.

I love me some lore

• It’s cool to see the planet Sienar, home of Sienar Fleet Systems from the EU.
• The password for the theft is “Kafrene,” a Rogue One reference.
• After getting a namedrop of Maya Pei’s faction in season 1, it’s nice to actually see them.
• One of the Imperials visiting Mina-Rau asks for Peezos, referencing a treat first mentioned in season 1.
• Davo Sculdun’s wedding gift, courtesy of Luthen, is a newly rediscovered “Chandi Merle” statue from the time of the Rakatan invasion. It’s the show’s second reference to the Ratakans, the antagonists from the Knights of the Old Republic video games. I love ancient-invasion lore, so I really enjoyed seeing one of the relics of that era.
• The TIEs chasing Cassian certainly looked a lot like the ones that the Inquisitors fly in Star Wars Rebels.

Everything else…

• Intro sequences
  • I like the Ferrix gong sound at the beginning of episode 1 to remind us of what we last saw, as we’re told that a year has passed since those fateful events.
  • I love how the title card of episode 3 turns into a panning shot of space, unlike any previous title card we’ve seen.
• Production design
  • It’s great to finally see Chandrila in live action. The show does a good job of distinguishing it from the similarly picturesque Alderaan.
  • I love the design of the Mina-Rau farming society. It’s beautiful — rustic, but homey.
• Camera work
  • I love the long one-take shot of Mon Mothma greeting guests as they arrive at the wedding.
  • The way the TIE Avenger swoops into view at the beginning of episode 3, with the light of a star behind it, is gorgeous.
• Music
  • The swanky tune that plays as Dedra and Syril are preparing for Eedy’s arrival is elegant, whimsical, and jarringly out of place in these people’s lives, adding to the surreality of the scene.
  • How about that Niamos techno mix?
• Pacing
  • I felt like Cassian’s escape from Sienar took a little too long. I understand the need to hook people early on with an intense chase sequence, and the desire to show off the TIE’s maneuverability and weapons, but it could have been shorter.
  • The way episode 1 cuts between the disheveled, uncoordinated Maya Pei rebels and the calm, calculating Imperials brilliantly highlights the contrasts between their habits and styles.
  • I like how episode 3 threads important Mon/Luthen/Tay moments in between the different stages of the wedding. Healthy doses of political intrigue are broken up by fun peeks at the wedding festivities, from the couple’s dance to the disco party.
• Lingering questions
  • There’s a shot of Perrin watching Luthen and Kleya talking in hushed tones. Is he starting to suspect something?
  • How were they planning to reunite with B2EMO?
• Seriously random thoughts
  • Krennic’s instructions to the group in the Maltheen Divide confirm that calendars exist in Star Wars.
  • I love that Cassian’s friends put up a picture of Maarva next to the communications station.
  • I appreciate that someone in canon has said that Diego Luna is cute.

Looking ahead…

The final sequence of this story arc — a montage of Cassian and company’s demoralized escape; Mon’s exhausted, mindless dancing; Vel’s miserable stupor; and Tay’s clueless self-satisfaction — is the perfect distillation of Andor’s messy humanity. These scenes depict very different situations — war, politics, and love — but they all share a common theme: chaos.

Given the time jumps between story arcs, it’s difficult to predict how all of this chaos will propel the story of Andor forward. But for now, it’s enough to say that this story arc really impressed me. Despite my minor criticisms, I’m very happy with how these episodes reintroduced us to the world of Andor. By expanding the show’s exploration of the horrors of fascism and the complexities of rebellion, this story arc challenged almost all of the main characters in unexpected ways, ultimately proving that Andor still has the juice.

1. I was going to call this section “Panic at the disco (party),” but the disco droid was actually playing techno music, not disco music, so in the spirit of accuracy, I forbore. ↩︎