Tony Gilroy’s Andor strips away Star Wars mythology to deliver a raw, unflinching portrait of authoritarianism, sexual violence and the personal stakes of resistance.
The final episode of Tony Gilroy’s Andor—a prequel series to the Star Wars film Rogue One—aired this month, and edits of the show overlaid with scenes of Trump’s America and current American events have since taken over my entire TikTok feed.
In case Star Wars isn’t your thing, keep reading: Andor is Star Wars for non-Star Wars fans. It is a show that depicts the raw, deeply personal struggles that draw individuals to resistance movements. There are none of the mythical elements characteristic of all other Star Wars projects. No legendary Jedi knights or magical, all-encompassing force—just real, normal people fighting against a fascist regime. We see each character, many of whom have been around as part of other Star Wars projects for years, with their own, complex origin story that drew them into the rebellion.
As Diego Luna, who plays title character Cassian Andor, explained in an April interview with Vanity Fair: “This series would have been important 10 years ago and will be important 10 years from now, because it is a reflection on how communities can take control and fight for their destiny. It reflects on the responsibilities of being a citizen, which have long existed, are important now, and will continue to be in the future.”
As a fan of the show’s first season, I was excited to see how Gilroy would fill in the gaps leading up to Rogue One. I was not expecting to be so struck by the extraordinary quality of the second season’s even deeper dive into the struggles of real people against the Empire and its fascist oppression.
Gilroy’s masterful ability to draw simultaneously on historical and current political narratives was, for me, what made Andor’s second season stand out to me from any other project in the saga.
For example, Episode Eight, titled “Who Are You?” is set in the city of Palmo on Ghorman, a wealthy planet famous for its textile exports that is the target of an Imperial smear campaign to capture underground resources essential to the construction of the infamous Death Star. Earlier in the season, we see an exclusive group of imperial officers meet on a mountainous planet, in a room evocative of Hitler’s Great Hall of Berghof, to plan this propaganda campaign of “Ghorman aggression.”
Gilroy’s construction of Ghorman to resemble France was no coincidence. From the planet’s Haussmann-esque architecture and fashion (including berets), to a new canon language directly based on French phonetics spoken by French actors, it’s clear the planet is meant to evoke parallels to World War II and the French Revolution.
Perhaps the most profound scene in the entire series (dare I say the Star Wars saga altogether) is the radio broadcast out of Ghorman following the massacre of hundreds of innocent protestors. Nothing about this scene feels like “a galaxy far, far away.” The sheer desperation in the broadcaster’s voice evokes help signals out of Ukraine, Gaza or even the United States. Even Cassian, the tough rebel protagonist, sheds a tear in awe of the sheer brutality of the Empire’s violence.
Another emotionally striking moment was Senator Mon Mothma’s address to the Senate regarding the massacre of Ghorman. Mothma, most of whose screen time in the first season is spent discretely obtaining funding and support for the rebellion through her elite connections, becomes the first representative to directly call out the Empire’s violence and censorship in the Senate.
Edits of Mothma’s iconic speech, in which she calls out blatant authoritarianism and the Orwellian lies of the coverup of the massacre in Palmo, overlaid with current news clips of the Trump administration have flooded my “for you page” since the episode’s release.
Mothma’s word choice of “unprovoked genocide” to refer to the incident in Palmo while the Imperial Security Bureau (ISB) tries to shut power down to the entire Senate building to silence her mirrors the United States’ response to protests against the conflict in Gaza. Just this month, Ben Cohen, co-founder of Ben & Jerry’s, was arrested in the Senate for speaking out against Congress’ support for the Israeli military.
The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. … Of all the things at risk, the loss of an objective reality is perhaps the most dangerous.
Mon Mothma, ‘Andor’
Star Wars has always been political. From George Lucas’ references to and criticism of the Vietnam War, to Stormtroopers’ uniforms and their names themselves being derived from the Nazi German army, Star Wars has always been an overtly political franchise. However, no project until Gilroy’s Andor has made such distinct, effective commentary on both current and historical events in such a savvy and profound manner.
Another theme Andor doesn’t shy away from is sexual violence as a mechanism of political control, especially under authoritarianism.
In Episode Three, mechanic and scrapper Bix Caleen is forced to kill an imperial officer who isolates and attempts to assault her. Here, the word rape is explicitly said for the first ever time in a Star Wars project, despite other infamous allusions such as the capture and sexual enslavement of Leia in Episode VI—Return of the Jedi, released over 40 years ago. However, in Andor, Bix saves herself, rather than being rescued by a magical Jedi knight and his all-male friends.
As showrunner Tony Gilroy told The Hollywood Reporter, “The history of civilization, there’s a huge arterial component of it that’s rape. All of us who are here—we are all the product of rape. I mean armies and power throughout history [have committed rape]. So to not touch on it, in some way … It just was organic and it felt right.”
Ultimately, Andor’s precision and boldness in confronting real-life themes of military and sexual violence sets it apart from any Star Wars project to date, and reminds us that in the face of an authoritarian regime, organization and cooperation must take precedence over division.
