This essay contains minor spoilers for Seasons 1 and 2 of “Andor.”
“Andor” is not just another “Star Wars” show. And the second and final season of the series, which just concluded on Disney+, begins with a moment that signals its ambitions.
The title character, Cassian Andor (Diego Luna), is on a rebel mission to steal a TIE fighter from the Imperial Army. His contact, a young technician employed by the Galactic Empire, is clearly nervous about her role in the plan. So Cassian looks her directly in the eye and offers her words of encouragement.
“This makes it worth it,” he says. “This. Right now. Being here at the moment you step into the circle. Look at me. You made this decision long ago. The Empire cannot win. You’ll never feel right unless you’re doing what you can to stop them. You’re coming home to yourself. You’ve become more than your fear. Let that protect you” (emphasis mine).
This is the sort of thing you might hear from a loving parent, or a spiritual director. It carried a power I didn’t expect from a progeny of George Lucas.
For Star Wars fans, Cassian Andor is a familiar and important character: in the 2016 film “Rogue One,” he leads the small band of rebels who steal the plans for the Death Star, which are central to the original Star Wars movie, “Episode IV: A New Hope.” And he and his compatriots die in the process of obtaining them. The series “Andor” takes place in the years leading up to this key moment.
All of which is to say, from the beginning of “Andor” you know that Cassian’s days are numbered. This makes each episode increasingly poignant. You see this man laugh with friends, drink too much, fall in love—and you know that he is going to die. The more I felt that, the more it reminded me unexpectedly of another series, “The Chosen.” Like that show’s portrayal of Jesus and his disciples, “Andor” is about men and women caught up in something bigger than themselves, who must give up everything—family, friends—to bring about the new world they believe is possible. Along the way, they face the harsh reality of what the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer called the “cost of discipleship.”
These are heady themes. The result is a piece of art that is both thrilling to watch and spiritually enriching.
Cassian Andor is just one player in this symphony, though clearly a critical one. Some characters, like Senator Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly), a future leader of the Rebel Alliance, come from the Star Wars canon. Others, like Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård), who quietly organizes the attacks and brokers deals with the various resistance groups that will slowly become the Alliance, are altogether new.
Rather than a leader when we first meet him, Cassian is a thief haunted by a sister he lost in childhood. Luthen, a mysterious figure who doubles as a dealer of rare antiquities, recognizes his potential and tries to recruit him to his shadowy efforts. Like many, Cassian is troubled by the increasingly tyrannical behavior of the Empire, but he is reluctant to join the rebels. He likes his freedom, such as it is, and doesn’t want to sacrifice it in pursuit of what seems like a hopeless cause.
It’s understandable. Again and again, “Andor” shows what kind of sacrifice the Rebellion requires. For one character, it leads to the assassination of a childhood friend. Another watches her lover die in battle. Luthen Rael knows he will die before seeing victory. Cassian Andor wants a family, but his partner, Bix, knows that’s not possible, at least in the near term.
She spells out the stakes shortly before they part ways. She knows that he is tempted to leave the Rebellion in order to be with her, but she can’t allow that to happen. “I can’t be the reason you leave here,” she says. “If you ever gave this up for me, I’d never forgive myself.”
What are you willing to give up to bring a new life into existence? What are you willing to do? These are not the sort of questions one tends to ask while watching Disney I.P. But here we are.
What distinguishes “Andor” is the depth of its characters, on both sides of the Rebel divide. One of its great achievements is the humanity it bestows on the black-booted thugs who work for the Empire. Dedra Meero (Denise Gough), in particular, is a wonderfully complex character, an Imperial functionary who is the first to suspect that one individual may be behind a string of rebel attacks. You can’t help but admire her intelligence and ambition—even as you hope she doesn’t finally succeed.
Indeed, even though the show is named after its male lead, creator Tony Gilroy (who also wrote “Rogue One”) has remarked that women are at the heart of the series: Meero, Mothma, Bix, Kleya Marki (Elizabeth Dulau), Luthen’s stunningly competent assistant. And let’s not neglect Cassian’s mother, Maarva, played by the great Fiona Shaw. It is she, finally, who inspires him to join the resistance.
It feels like more than a coincidence that “Andor” reappeared, after an almost three-year hiatus, 100 days into Trump 2.0. The show feels strikingly modern, as it takes on questions of genocide and what it means to be part of a resistance. It is not a heavy-handed call for revolution today, but it is notable that it takes inspiration from real-world revolutionary figures. One character, Karis Nemik (Alex Lawther), the author of a manifesto against the Empire, is reportedly based on Leon Trotsky. And one of the show’s directors pointed to “The Battle of Algiers,” the 1966 film about the Algerian rebellion against the French, as a key influence.
This is perhaps why Ross Douthat recently cited “Andor” as an example of excellent “left-wing” art. But is it in fact left-wing? Or does it manage to transcend these categories?
Consider Mon Mothma’s critical speech to the Senate, in which she calls out Emperor Palpatine for his abuses, before she is whisked away to take charge of the Rebel Alliance. “The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil,” she proclaims. “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.”
Sure, a Never-Trumper could find inspiration from these words. Indeed, her speech sounds a little like The Washington Post’s tagline, “Democracy Dies in Darkness.” The rise of fake news, in the White House and elsewhere, serves as an eerie corollary to what unfolds. But it is a tribute to the series that it also invokes more timeless questions, particularly for Christians.
Personally, “Andor” inspired me to read Bonhoeffer, who was ultimately executed by the Nazis for his role in the resistance in World War II: “Christians should give more offense, shock the world far more, than they are doing now,” he wrote. And elsewhere: “There is no way to peace along the way to safety. For peace must be dared. It is the great venture.”
No, the Rebels here aren’t Christians, even on an allegorical level. And they are certainly not choosing the path of peace: There are plenty of blasters on hand. But “Andor” reminds us that choosing a different life, one in service of a great and noble goal, will require some very difficult decisions. May the Force be with us.
Read next: ‘Star Wars’ offered us a new hope. ‘Andor’ explores the cost of that hope.
