Andor (Season 2)

A grounded rebellion tale with the grit of a spy thriller

It seems hard to fathom, but the best story to emerge from the Star Wars universe—arguably ever—is a prequel to a spinoff. Yet it proves that what matters most isn’t what story you're telling, but how you tell it. With a screenwriter like Tony Gilroy (Michael Clayton (2007), Nightcrawler (2014)) at the helm, disappointment was always going to be unlikely.

Having wrapped up its second and final season, the gritty, grounded Andor (2022–2025) serves as the origin story of the rebellion against the Galactic Empire. We follow the reluctant pilot Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) as he navigates a fractured resistance made up of competing factions: the calculating Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård), the bloodthirsty Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker), and the diplomatic but cornered Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly). Opposing them is the cold and ambitious Imperial officer Dedra Meero (Denise Gough), whose intelligence operations give the show a distinctly John le Carré-esque flavor—full of surveillance, betrayals, and ruthless bureaucratic maneuvering.

Season two is structured into four arcs of three episodes each, with each arc functioning like a mini-film. Released in batches, the format allows for a cinematic sense of pacing and escalation, where each contained story deepens the portrait of an increasingly repressive Empire. These arcs resonate more cohesively as triptychs than as standalone episodes, delivering satisfying, self-contained chapters within the broader narrative.

Andor’s boldest move is what it leaves out: not a single Jedi, lightsaber, or Force-related subplot appears. The absence of these iconic elements strips the Star Wars mythos down to its most human and political core. We're immersed instead in the daily grind of rebellion foot soldiers and Imperial paper-pushers, where decisions are made in conference rooms and back alleys, not temples or thrones. Visually, it owes more to Blade Runner (1982) and cold-war noir than to George Lucas’s space operas. Gilroy insisted on shooting on location and with practical sets—choices that ballooned the show’s budget and shortened its planned five-season run to just two—but the payoff is tangible. Gone are glossy CGI backdrops; instead, we get rusted starships, grimy windows, and physical textures that root the series in reality.

While Star Wars has always carried anti-authoritarian themes—its stormtroopers famously inspired by Nazi aesthetics—the arrival of Andor in the 2020s makes these ideas newly urgent. In a time when authoritarianism is resurgent and democratic norms are under siege, Andor offers a sobering portrayal of a regime that thrives on surveillance, disinformation, and cultural erasure. The writing is sharp, threading these themes subtly and powerfully without ever becoming preachy.

In tone and execution, Andor is far closer to a John le Carré espionage novel than a typical Disney+ blockbuster. Scenes like a doomed protest encircled by troops, a covert agent extraction under surveillance, or a foot-chase through wheat fields are crafted with a slow-burning intensity and dread. The tension is palpable, the stakes are real, and the politics are messy.

The cast elevates this further. O’Reilly is spectacular as Mon Mothma, exuding both political shrewdness and the quiet desperation of someone trying to halt a slide into authoritarianism through diplomacy. Skarsgård is magnetic as Luthen—by turns charming and terrifying as the ideological engine of the rebellion. Gough brings extraordinary depth to Meero, transmitting ambition, fear, and control through the tightest facial expressions. And Luna, while restrained, anchors the show with quiet gravitas. His Cassian is skeptical, traumatized, and hesitant, yet always compelling.

Andor is the Star Wars project no one expected, but one we’re better off for. It’s a profound sociopolitical thriller disguised as a franchise spinoff, exploring how ordinary people are radicalized, how systems erode, and how resistance forms. It may ironically lose some viewers due to its Star Wars branding, but that branding belies just how sophisticated and cinematic this series is. With its worn-in aesthetic, practical effects, taut writing, and psychological depth, Andor isn’t just one of the best things Star Wars has produced—it’s one of the best shows of the last few years, period.

9.2/10