Star WarsStar WarsIn the three-part premiere of the ‘Star Wars’ series’ second season, the rebellion is ramping up—and Cassian is committed
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By Ben LindberghApril 23, 2:46 am UTC • 8 min
“People fail,” Luthen Rael tells Mon Mothma in the finale of the first of four mini-trilogies that make up Andor Season 2. “That’s our curse.”
Season 1 offered ample evidence that some supposed allies lack the stomach for solidarity: Timm and Nurchi ratted out Cassian; Skeen tried to steal the hard-earned haul from the Aldhani heist. (None of them lived to tell those treacherous tales.) And the first three episodes of Season 2, which went live on Disney+ on Tuesday, revolve around the same theme. Unlike Luthen Rael, not everyone is willing to sacrifice everything for the cause.
Kellen, who plays the part of a helpful, concerned colleague of the undocumented quartet of Brasso, Bix Caleen, B2EMO, and Wilmon Paak on Mina-Rau, sells them out to the Empire, precipitating Brasso’s death. Tay Kolma, Mon Mothma’s childhood friend and confidant, suffers some personal and professional setbacks, falls under the sway of Davo Sculdun, and starts making noises about demanding money from Mon, setting up his own implied death as Cinta chauffeurs him on a one-way trip. And members of rebel splinter group Maya Pei’s crew turn on each other as soon as their leader is absent and hunger sets in, leading to multiple murders and a tense standoff. As Cassian said last season, “It always breaks at the weakest point.”
The main change from the start of Season 1 is that Cassian no longer looks like a possible weak point himself. The undependable petty criminal we met in the series’ inaugural three-episode arc has been replaced by a man who may wear an Imperial uniform but, on the inside, seems to be a freedom fighter through and through—an apparent true believer.
In the closing scene of last season, Cassian embraced hologram-Maarva’s advice to wake up and fight the Empire. “Kill me, or take me in,” he told Luthen, eliciting a rare smile from the secretive puppet master the Empire knows as “Axis”—not the showy smile Luthen flashes when inhabiting his dandified, flamboyant, louche alter ego, but the genuine one he reserves for his fledgling rebellion’s triumphs.
In the three latest episodes, which take place four years before the Battle of Yavin (and Cassian’s death on Scarif), a year has passed since that enlistment. A committed Cassian isn’t just in—he’s all in, like Nemik (whose manifesto may have played a part in his newfound dedication) or like Cassian told the refugees from Ferrix to be in the Season 1 finale. Or, for that matter, like creator/showrunner/writer Tony Gilroy told us this season would be in its trailer: “The complexity of the show, the possibilities of the show, it has to be all in.”
In the opening scene, Cassian comforts Niya, the Imperial ship tech who’s helping him steal a TIE fighter from the shipwrights at Sienar. “You made this decision long ago,” he reassures her. “The Empire cannot win. You’ll never feel right unless you are doing what you can to stop them. You’re coming home to yourself.” She can see that he speaks with conviction, and from experience, which makes him a powerful messenger. Even if Cassian isn’t primarily a recruiter, his capacity to inspire people is an asset at this touch-and-go stage. People fail from the Empire’s point of view, too, and that’s the rebellion’s blessing: not just Niya, but also Lieutenant Gorn from Aldhani, Lonni from the Imperial Security Bureau, and a bunch of former baddies who make face turns elsewhere in the canon, including ISB deserter Alexsandr Kallus from Rebels.
When Cassian went home for Maarva’s funeral, he also went home to himself. As Maarva forecast, Cassian has become “an unstoppable force for good.” Of course, Cassian actually is unstoppable from a plot-armor perspective, until his fatal date with the Death Star he unwittingly (and unwillingly) helped build. Yet again, he gets inside the Empire’s house and walks—well, flies—right out again. But he can be detained temporarily, as he is by Maya Pei’s people after he attempts to deliver the TIE fighter he stole to another spoke on Luthen’s hub of operatives. (The initial TIE takeoff goes about as well as Finn’s in The Force Awakens.)
Even when Cassian goes days without reporting in, Luthen and Kleya don’t seem concerned that he’s betrayed them, only that he’s been captured (which he has) or killed. Cassian may not obey every order to the letter—in Episode 3, he goes against Kleya’s wishes by taking the TIE to help his friends, à la Luke Skywalker’s reckless trip to Cloud City in The Empire Strikes Back—but on a fundamental level, his loyalty and competence are seemingly beyond question. But to take on the Empire’s overwhelming might, the series suggests, the rebellion’s early adherents have to be a bit—or more than a bit—broken inside. (And also outside, in the case of Saw Gerrera, who in one trailer proclaims, “Revolution is not for the sane.”) And if they aren’t broken to begin with, they will be by the time the resistance—and its associated stakes—really ramp up. It’s hard to have friends or lovers while at war: Just ask Cassian, Mon, and Vel about Brasso, Tay, and Cinta. (We know Luthen’s stance on experiencing calm, kindness, kinship, and love.)
It’s fitting that the password Niya gives Cassian is “Kafrene”—the name of the place where he’ll learn of the existence of the Death Star in Rogue One. (And will shoot his informant in the back; here’s hoping Niya has a happier ending.) It’s high time for Cassian to take this turn, as the series barrels past its halfway point and picks up the temporal pace. We’ve known where he’s headed since the start of this prequel series, and we’ve seen how he reached the point of pledging himself to save the galaxy instead of aiming to save only himself and a few friends and loved ones. Now we’ll see how his skills, and Luthen’s network, expand to meet the demand to extract the plans for the Empire’s superweapon. If the various rebel factions don’t put aside their differences, and the populace doesn’t rise up to support their efforts, then it won’t just be individual people who fail—the whole movement will.
Despite being the titular character and nominal protagonist, though, Cassian has never been the series’ sole attraction—or even its main one. That’s not a knock on Diego Luna; it’s a testament to the strength of Andor’s ensemble, some members of which are more mysterious than Cassian. I’m not kidding when I say the spectacle of Dedra squaring off with Eedy in a battle to be the alpha female of Syril’s life is as riveting as a trench run—even if there are no good guys in this domestic struggle for supremacy. Syril’s mom has met more than her match; Dedra even has a file on Syril’s sainted Uncle Harlo, who has a criminal record.
Speaking of which: Yes, Syril and Dedra are going so steady that they’re seemingly cohabitating, which is certainly a step up for Syril compared to moving in with his controlling, meddlesome mom. (Then again, Eedy can’t play in Dedra’s league when it comes to controlling behavior, as Eedy soon learns.) The two law-and-order—well, maybe just order—enthusiasts have never lacked for chemistry, and I’d celebrate the latest confirmation that there’s someone out there for everyone if not for the fact that these someones are monsters. The sight of Dedra in her civvies almost seems obscene, but it’s nice to know that she listens to opera to unwind instead of, say, “a sort of choral, agonized pleading” by dying Dizonites.
Dedra isn’t the only character we get to see off the job for the first time—not that a prominent politician and secret rebel organizer like Mon Mothma can ever truly clock out or go off the grid, especially while drawing triple duty as the mother of the bride. She does attain a moment of zen at Leida’s wedding reception, though, as she embraces her inner Perrin and reaches past her “constant cloud of sadness” to experience some pleasure, gaiety, amusement, and joy while vibing to traditional Chandrilan, uh, house music. It’s a fleeting reprieve from her guilt and anxiety, and her cares will return in the morning—accompanied, perhaps, by a hangover. But at least she got to live a little. And isn’t living a little, and ensuring that others can keep living, the point of opposing the Empire?
On Chandrila, we’re treated to opulence. On agrarian Mina-Rau, with its amber waves of grain, we see the simple life—though it’s not so simple if the Empire is inspecting visas and you don’t have one. The search for, and expulsion of, undocumented residents is another example of Andor riffing on the politics of the day—or simply riffing on fascism, which amounts to much the same thing. Bix has another pressing problem, in the form of Lieutenant Krole. The Empire already violated her mind; in Episode 3, Krole tries to violate her body. The attempted rape ends fatally for him, but that outcome won’t wipe away the wounded, haunted, hunted look that’s been in Bix’s eyes ever since her session with Dr. Gorst on Ferrix—or help her sleep more soundly.
Elsewhere on the fascism front, the Empire, led by Orson Krennic (Ben Mendelsohn), is laying the groundwork for a project that will culminate in the Ghorman Massacre—an example of Imperial cruelty with roots in Star Wars storytelling that dates back three decades, even though the details have changed. The Death Star needs a component that can come only from the ground on Ghorman, so the people of Ghorman have got to go. Perhaps something similar happened on Kenari, Cassian’s homeworld. “Access to stable, unlimited power will transform the galactic economy and solidify Imperial authority,” Krennic says—and we all know how Palpatine feels about unlimited power. Dedra is his pick for point person, and while she may prefer to keep pursuing Axis, she should excel at subjugation.
The first three episodes don’t address some of the series’ outstanding questions—is Cassian’s long-lost sister still in play, or will the series abide by Maarva’s plea for Cassian to stop searching for her?—but Andor has never really been about what will happen next purely on a plot level. It’s about memorable monologues and devastating deaths; uncut idealism and compromised principles; original lore, like Chandrila’s wedding rituals and the Maya Pei contingent’s take on rock, paper, scissors; and striking, contrasting settings, the visual hallmark of a series that flexes both its budget and its devotion to on-location shooting. And it’s about the unsettling, inspiring depiction of tyranny and revolt that Gilroy is assembling as painstakingly as Krennic is constructing his superweapon.
All in all, the first of this season’s Andor TV trilogies (or TV movies) is, like last season’s, a somewhat slow start—but not a worrisome one. People fail, and so do other Star Wars series. Andor doesn’t—or hasn’t so far.
Ben is a writer, podcaster, and editor who covers culture and sports. He hosts ‘Effectively Wild’ at FanGraphs and previously wrote for FiveThirtyEight and Grantland, served as editor-in-chief of Baseball Prospectus, and authored ‘The MVP Machine’ and ‘The Only Rule Is It Has to Work.’
