After The Rise of the Skywalker hit in 2019 I figured I was pretty much done with Star Wars. It had been a brand I’d loved since childhood, but a mixture of things from the horrifyingly toxic trajectory of the fandom, especially after The Last Jedi came out, coupled with very mediocre returns from Solo and The Mandalorian had me losing investment in this series -and J.J. Abrams’ incompetent hack-job just about killed whatever was left. The franchise was becoming increasingly more boring to me, more interested in playing with Star Wars toys as it were, then exploring that universe in any meaningful way. The Rise of Skywalker just seemed to confirm that mission statement going forward, as it tossed out everything intrepid and bold about the direction its’ predecessor had laid out in favour of bringing back Palpatine and Lando and several figures forgettable to all but the most passionate Star Wars nerds. I was sure that nothing, certainly under Disney’s watch, would ever be worthwhile again.
 |
And so The Mandalorian season two came and I didn’t watch it (hearing about its’ final episode I’m very glad I didn’t). The Book of Boba Fett came and I couldn’t give two shits. Obi-Wan Kenobi brought back Ewan McGregor, Hayden Christensen, and Liam Neeson, and I just shrugged. But then last fall I started hearing surprisingly good things about this show I had no expectations for other than knowing it would exist. Andor, a prequel series to Rogue One -a movie most had forgotten outside of the “badass” Darth Vader scene, was getting some notable critical acclaim. It was a series divorced from stunt cameos or from any of the series’ long-held iconography, that delved into new facets of the universe with significant social-political intent. A series that explored the nuances of rebellion, of imperialism, of life under imperial rule -and that did so with a power and creative ambition unseen in Star Wars in possibly decades. Several critics and intelligent voices in the media sphere whom I trust were even calling it a franchise high-point! This from a show produced by Disney, the same people who oversaw The Rise of Skywalker!
 |
For the longest time I didn’t believe it. But then over the holiday break I convinced myself to finally come back to Star Wars and check it out. The first episode began with Diego Luna’s title figure entering a dark and empty nightclub on some industrial planet. He inquires with one of its’ hostesses about a woman from Kenari, his missing sister, and is told she hasn’t worked there for months. In the meantime, a pair of aggressive uniformed men eye him up, make vaguely threatening comments, and when he leaves they follow him outside. They demand his name and hold him at gunpoint, gleeful in their power over him, but Andor doesn’t cooperate. A scuffle ensues and in subduing them one of the men is shot. Upon discovering he is dead, the other officer begs for his life, offers to cover for Andor, but after a moment’s hesitation Andor shoots him dead as well before fleeing the scene.
 |
From this thrilling starting point, Andor doesn’t let up and refuses to walk back its’ tone or insinuations. It is an “adult” Star Wars in the right sense of the term -and not just because it pays lip-service to dark and gritty elements that seem to account for what a lot of audiences view as adult these days. But because it reckons with real things in a tangible and potent way, often a stark mirror to issues and ideologies and structures in our world to better expose or make sense of them. Star Wars has always been innately political, but Andor is by far the most open and intelligent it’s been with regards to interrogating institutions of power and belief systems that strongly resonate with modern observations and discourse. For instance, it understands the underpinning tenets of contemporary fascism as well as The Last Jedi; but where that film was more focused on the chaotic acolytes of extremism (as was on the mind in 2017), this show depicts the orderly mundane figures and structures that prop up a system of oppression -the banality of evil as one video essayist smartly pointed out. It’s the difference between QAnon trolls and amateur terrorists and “respectable” politicians and rich executives -both dangerous, but it’s the latter Andor knows we should pay more attention to than we do.
 |
The series is run by Tony Gilroy, a really unusual pick for Disney as a figure well-established in the realm of adult Hollywood cinema -he wrote the Bourne trilogy, directed Michael Clayton, and produced his brother Dan’s acclaimed directing debut, Nightcrawler. He’s also the writer on five of the twelve episodes (Dan wrote three), and so its’ safe to say his voice is pretty prominent in the creative direction of this series -at least as much as you could say Jon Favreau’s is for the other shows, if you believe he has any kind of distinctive one. Gilroy’s action-thriller bona fides come in handy for sure, and this series has some of the best intense action sequences of the entire franchise, but what really makes him specially suited for this project is how tuned-in he is to the philosophical purpose of Star Wars. Not the super basic light vs. dark thing, but the overhanging moral good of rebellion against unjust power and subjugation. He illustrates it in new and passionate ways, he understands the meaning it carries meta-textually, and he explores it on a variety of fronts and from distinct perspectives -begetting a lot of fascinating characterization in the process.
Perhaps the one major flaw to the show is the fact that it is a prequel, that we know exactly what will happen to Cassian Andor, the Empire, and the Rebellion, thus limiting to some degree its’ scope. This could be a prestige six season science-fiction series on the subject of living under imperialism, but it won’t be (it’s ending after two) -and that’s a bit of the bummer next to the quality of the writing, the acting, the filmmaking, and the vision. But for its’ limited capacity, it opens up the Star Wars universe exponentially.
 |
The basic synopsis follows Cassian Andor’s gradual early involvement in the Rebel movement some five years before the events of the original movie. He is a refugee, a native of a planet that was invaded and strip-mined for its’ resources, before being abandoned and later irradiated by the Empire. As a child he was rescued by a pair of scavengers and raised on the planet Ferrix, where he regularly outmaneuvers Imperial authorities and steals technology to sell on the black market as a means of getting off-planet. Eventually, this activity catches the attention of Rebel operative Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård), who endeavours to hire him for a major heist job; at the same time as an ambitious security officer Karn (Kyle Soller) investigating the earlier murders begins to identify and pursue Andor as well.
 |
That at least covers the first three episodes, though what Andor curiously does with its’ title characters’ journey is split it into four distinct mini-arcs. Following his recruitment is the heist plotline, and then one where he is subjected to an Imperial prison, before ultimately a last stand on Ferrix -each with pretty much their own objectives and cast of secondary characters. But as these play out there are continuous threads that follow Andor’s close friends and family back on Ferrix as the Empire’s grip tightens over it, the political intrigue involving the career and financial schemes of senator and secret rebel leader Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly) on Coruscant, Luthen’s own machinations from his antiques dealer cover, and the individual efforts by two cunning agents, the aforementioned Karn and a high-ranking Imperial security officer Meero (Denise Gough), to track Andor down and expose the Rebellion to a complacent Imperial government.
 |
And let’s talk about that Imperial government and this shows’ portrayal of the Empire in general, one of its’ most compelling aspects. For the first time, Star Wars presents the Empire as an empire -a tightly controlled, coordinated authority that invades, colonizes, and imposes its’ will on other worlds. We see the course methodology of it, the very gradual way it becomes a presence on Ferrix -once a planet with only minimal dealings with the Empire, now finding itself more and more under their thumb. Another world, Aldhani -the site of a major garrison- is home to Indigenous peoples whom the Empire feigns diplomacy with while covertly expressing disdain for. Scenes of Imperial officers overseeing and tolerating a native ritual or making gestures of good faith in a trade, vividly evokes the imagery of the relationship between European colonizers and Native Americans -the fact that these Indigenous are human, not separated by alienating metaphor, makes the point stand even stronger. Meanwhile, where Imperial Command is concerned it’s strictly bureaucratic -the scenes that take place within the Security Bureau on Coruscant notably rather plain. There isn’t even the kind of open personality of that Imperial Command scene from the first Star Wars (and thankfully not even the whiff of an appearance by either Darth Vader or the Emperor). Rather the conflict between officers is extremely petty and business-like. The aesthetic is immaculately clean and white (even with some officers of colour) -basic and bland in that regimented way that betrays a policy of strict apathy, and which is something that Meero is cognizant of.
 |
Meero is such an interesting character for this, for her dissonance from that drab authority and keen understanding of the will for rebellious sentiment. While nearly everyone around her thinks the idea of an organized rebellion to their rule is preposterous, she seems to have just enough awareness of the reasons for dissent, to see the bigger picture with regards to isolated rebel activity, yet not so aware as to be in any way moved by it. Her convictions are firmly with Imperial dominance, but in a more proactive way -she represents a new meticulous fascism to the tired old guard. It’s worth noting too that she is just about the only woman of significant rank in the Imperial machine that we have seen -and that there are undercurrents of systemic misogyny in her interactions with colleagues. Gilroy and Gough suggest it’s a contributing factor in her particular intuition and drive.
 |
It’s so curious the specific kinds of ultra-conservative figures being drawn upon for this series’ villains; where Meero is one kind and Karn a very specific other. Syril Karn is one of the most wholly satisfying hateable characters we’ve seen in a while: a pathetic twerp with aspirations for power and a severe desperation to please whilst being deeply dug in to his specific set of extremist beliefs. Where Meero is the underestimated political aide, the back-bencher asserting power from within the elite system, Karn is the keyboard warrior entrenched in conspiracy propaganda who has found an extremely localized circle of power for himself. He isn’t even technically an Imperial officer -he’s introduced as a middle-manager inspector for some kind of security firm with limited authority over a small sector that answers to the Empire. Immensely concerned by even small acts of aggression against authority, he makes it his mission to apprehend Andor for the deaths of those security officers. But like the very specific ideologues he’s based on, his passion and boldness is entirely performative -he is a proven coward and an idiot, and the show delights in his humiliation. After his failure on Ferrix, he is consigned to a drone office job, moves back in with his mother on Coruscant, and spends the rest of the season pitifully trying to get Meero’s attention. In the contrast of these two characters, the series is able to pinpoint and comment on two different but concerning archetypes of the modern far-right political sphere.
 |
The parallels are likewise unavoidable in how the everyday dominance of the Empire is portrayed. Interestingly, it isn’t all the super-heightened totalitarianism we might have expected. There’s a degree of normalcy that is rather sobering -particularly as it concerns the atmosphere on Coruscant from the perspectives of Mon Mothma and Luthen. Virtually, it’s indistinct from the impression of the planet in the prequel trilogy -you’d never know that an entirely different political apparatus is ruling over it. And indeed that makes perfect sense for figures of elite wealth and prestige like Mon and even Luthen, who walk in the circles of the galaxy’s powerful upper class. Life is still great for them, as such times of strife usually are for those of privilege. And yet the show makes abundantly clear that complacency is not okay; we understand viscerally why Mon can’t abide the Empire’s evils. It’s satisfying to see how O’Reilly, who first played this part as little more than an extra seventeen years ago, has gradually built her up in subsequent appearances to the point she now can lend sufficient gravitas; and in Andor more deeply explore this characters’ conflict as a rebel leader hiding within the Empire’s domain. The stress of keeping up appearances is brilliantly portrayed, the dangers of trust and the politicking that she has to partake in –a markedly different situation for Mon than it is for Luthen, who additionally doesn’t have to contend with patriarchal gestures of control.
 |
Of course, these challenges are unique, and for the people Mon and Luthen are fighting for, life under the Empire is a different experience. The show deserves a great heap of credit for spotlighting the regular folk so often obscured by this franchise. They’re represented here by the people of Ferrix: mechanics Bix (Adria Arjona) and her boyfriend Timm (James McArdle), Brasso (Joplin Sibtain) –a labourer, Xanwan (Zubin Varla) –a small-time transport businessman, and of course Maarva Andor (Fiona Shaw), a community leader and Cassian’s adopted mother. Even Maarva’s loyal shabby droid B2EMO counts. Gilroy is genuinely concerned with them and their little corner of the galaxy that is both more mundane and more interesting than many places this franchise has been to. So well are the relationships established, each character no matter how minor feels important in some way –from the father and son who run a scrappy shipyard to the smuggler Andor has a hostile relationship with to the guy whose job is just to bang an anvil every hour in the clock tower. More than just about any other world in the Star Wars universe, Ferrix has character beyond its’ aesthetic and feels lived in –entirely on the back of its’ people.
 |
And on initial glance, it looks like they’re not too troubled by the Empire. But it’s in the little things that build up, the fact that Andor has to constantly watch his back –especially when alone at night. It’s in the gathering atmosphere of surveillance and secrecy, the “sleep” as Maarva would put it. It’s in how the people side-eye the officers who patrol their streets, on rare occasions stormtroopers –a show of intimidation that seems wholly effective. This is also much the case on the other worlds Andor goes to –it’s a subtle oppression, quiet but growing, and everyone is conscious of it every moment. And spurts of violence do come: we see how Cassian’s father Clem (Gary Beadle) was mercilessly killed during a protest –killed by clone troopers it’s worth noting. Yes, through the use of flashbacks, which by the timeline sometimes have to allude to the prequel-era period before the Empire’s rise, Andor pulls back the curtain on its’ predecessor Republic, supposedly the good alternative system. It demonstrates how for many worlds, the difference between Republic and Empire is virtually nonexistent. Both guilty bodies that failed the people, both quick to suppress dissent. Which tracks both historically and ominously for our real world institutions and their patterns of subjugation.
 |
Speaking of which, I love how unabashedly ACAB this series is! Right from that opening scene of officers abusing their power, Andor highly codes its’ Imperial authorities as police, leaning into the imagery and language associated with modern law enforcement. More than just about anything, this threw me, it’s the first time not just Star Wars but anything Disney has expressed such an open anti-cop attitude. A scene in episode seven sees Andor get profiled by a stormtrooper, who reacts to his objections with a very specific demeanour and cadence instantly recognizable as that subtly threatening ‘calm’ employed by cops when confronted. Elsewhere we see officers patrol on foot and in vehicles, quietly asserting authority, and the blunt bureaucracy behind arrests. In the season climax, they intimidate the denizens of Ferrix in a wall formation armed with blasters and riot shields, ready to assault protesters –as much as conservative Star Wars fans might endeavour to deny it, the reference is almost too on-the-nose!
 |
And it’s even further emphasized during the arc where Andor is sent to prison, a deep examination of just how closely the carceral system’s disregard for prisoners equates to indentured servitude. This plot line makes a point to emphasize how little the prisoners matter to their jailers; more than that, they are mere cogs that the Empire is obliged keep a steady supply of for the purposes of slave labour -pacifying them with a lie that they can be cycled through the system and eventually released. A lie that some, like Andy Serkis’ Kino Loy, depend on to keep going. But once the lie breaks down so too does the Empire’s carefully constructed order in this environment. There’s a lot in this that directly echoes the prison industrial complex, the ways in which human rights are infringed upon when in such a context where an excuse can be made. But on a grander level, we see how resistance is manifested by condition; that the greater the lies and gaslighting used to repress, the bolder that inevitable rebellion will be. We experience vicariously through Andor that same gradual realization of the need for it. Injustice demands action.
 |
Perhaps more than anything, that is the point. It’s outlined pretty much in that fashion by Nemik (Alex Lawther), a particularly passionate young rebel, in his manifesto. The show frequently makes the argument for the imperative of standing up, which it backs up and emboldens with inspired rhetoric on freedom and the fragile nature of oppressors. It’s hard work to make such sentiments feel earned and natural, and yet each time they are brought up in Andor they hit with a force. For as much as the show embraces realism there is still an operatic quality with which licence it maintains a degree of ostentatiousness. But Andor also comes at a time when there is a great catharsis to that, to emphasizing the moral good of rebellion –and of course in-text it serves the purpose for Andor that it does for us. The show is a real call to activism without being necessarily forward about it. And it doesn’t ever downplay resistance either, or cast it in an easy light. This is not a show that believes in the fruits of peaceful protest, it recognizes the need for uproar, in extreme circumstances even for violence. In the immovably middle-of-the-road liberal media climate that it finds itself ensconced in, that is a brazen and controversial stance. But one Gilroy is smart enough to know it needs to make.
 |
Yet it’s precisely because of these notions that Andor is prompted to showcase the morally grey. Andor makes his share of ethically questionable choices. Both he and one of the other rebels on Aldhani are in it for the money more than the cause -and while sure, this was the case of Han Solo too, this show examines that motivation in a more grim and honest way, to the point even Andor is offended by the others’ apathy and greed. Most explicitly though are the actions of Luthen, who has a very ‘ends justify the means’ perspective on the Rebel cause and views it almost strictly in terms of the long game. He comes to a crossroads with Rebel ally Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker) because of his plan to sacrifice a Rebel squadron led by one of their prominent leaders so as to weaken the Empire’s resolve long-term. He even leaks their assault to Imperial Security through a mole. And once Andor is out of his sights following the Aldhani mission, Luthen intends to have him assassinated for knowing his identity. Through each of these choices the show invites you to consider the ethical price of the Rebel ideology, and while Luthen doesn’t mount a defence necessarily, he expounds powerfully at the close of one episode the soul and sense of principles he has given up in pursuit of the hope the Empire can one day be destroyed -acknowledging it may be past his lifetime. That theme of sacrifice is echoed immensely for Mon Mothma too, whose sense of personal security has had to be repressed, and who in some way is even required to give up her daughters’ agency in a political marriage for the crucial financial backing needed to keep up the fight. Neither Luthen nor Mon are happy people, but they are secure in their convictions, and for Luthen especially, well aware of his amorality, it is worth the tough choices.
The show presents no clear answer as to whether Luthen is in the right, but for the sake of its’ title character you have to be a little skeptical. It’s a subtle but strong argument that rests solely on Andor being a person we know -his people being people we know. And Luthen doesn’t see his Rebels as people as much as tools to wield against the Empire -fully understanding himself to be one too. But the people matter. That’s where the power is. And in a small way it turns him around by the end.
 |
So we come back to one of Andor’s most enduring virtues: the people. The people that populate Andor are tangible, they’re complex and diverse, they have principles and politics and meaningful relationships (including the series’ first LGBTQ one), and they engage with the world around them in interesting ways -they also happen to be played by really good actors giving some of the best performances seen in any Star Wars product. I’d be happy to see Diego Luna, Stellan Skarsgård, Fiona Shaw, Kyle Soller, Denise Gough, and Andy Serkis get some Emmy attention this summer (certainly if WandaVision could get a ridiculous number of nominations Andor deserves to). But more I just want to see the franchise machine learn from Andor, develop their own series’ with similar aims. If Marvel were to do a show like it, it would be the most engaged I’ve been with their universe in years.
 |
Andor is in a bit of a weird place reception-wise. Critics love it, and the audience that has come out for it has sung its’ praises as well, but it’s still far less popular than Obi-Wan Kenobi or The Mandalorian or almost any of the Marvel shows. And I can’t help but see some fans praising it for shallow reasons. For simply the grit of it, the seriousness, the mere presence of moral ambiguity -and yet seem completely uninterested in examining its’ characters, its’ systems and politics with very potent real-world parallels undercutting the sharply-directed scenes of action and intrigue. They’ll forget that their much-hated Kathleen Kennedy produced this show as well and the ones who compare it favourably to The Last Jedi are particularly amusing, because that’s the one recent Star Wars product that shares its’ thematic boldness. Andor is actually much more than its’ Star Wars fans give it credit for -which is part of the reason it’s been seen as the Star Wars show for non-Star Wars fans, as it routinely breaks free of that franchise’s limitations. I’ve heard it called too good for a Star Wars show, which is condescending but not entirely inaccurate. Prestige TV mixed with monoculture media.
 |
And it’s again why I’m disappointed it’s not designed to go past a second season. With the trailer for the fourth season of Succession breaking as I’m writing this, I wonder what Andor could be with that kind of extended run. And speaking of Succession, the score for the series by Nicholas Brittell is the best yet composed for Star Wars that hasn’t come from John Williams directly (and in fact outdoes much of the great maestro’s work on the sequels). It’s just such a great show that offers so much to dive into -the world of Star Wars feels full of promise again when something like this can be made within it. I never thought this property would win me back, especially not in the form of a spin-off on a character and a movie that has interested me less as the years have gone by. But Andor blew me away and saved Star Wars. It’s the real deal. Go and watch it!
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
Comments
Post a Comment