I spent most of the 2010s absolutely enraptured with FX’s Cold War domestic espionage thriller, The Americans. The mixing of marital drama with geopolitical maneuvering, scheming, plots within plots, and some of the best wigs to ever grace the screen kept me riveted for six breathless seasons. (To this day I still can’t hear U2’s “With or Without You” without bursting into tears.) In the seven years since we said goodbye to the Jennings family and their many assets and handlers, I’ve felt starved of good espionage television. I love a spy drama; few genres are quite as adept at melding character drama with nail biting tension.
Andor has been branded as an espionage series since day one, but it’s spent most of its time hopping between various other thriller subgenres (heist, jail break, fugitive, political intrigue, etc.). The wiretapping, secret identities, coded messages, and moles have typically played out in the margins of Andor’s bigger, flashier plotlines, and it’s all been so good that I haven’t really minded. But, with this season’s second three-episode arc, Tony Gilroy and episodic writer Beau Willimon have finally delivered on all the spycraft and paranoia that I could ask for. This is easily one of Andor’s least flashy story arcs. We don’t culminate into a third episode climax filled with starfighter dogfights, exploding speeders, or rousing prison riots, but instead maintain a steady drumbeat of tension as secrets are almost exposed and the galaxy’s major players decide the fates of entire planets from the shadows. It’s the most any show has felt like The Americans since 2018. That is, without the wigs. We could always do with more wigs.
A year has passed since Cassian, Bix, and Wilmon fled their lives as refugees on Mina-Rau. Now, the three have settled into their roles as agents in Luthen Rael’s secret war against the Empire. In between missions, Cassian and Bix spend their days hiding out together in a safe house on the galactic capital of Coruscant. It’s the closest the two have ever gotten to being a real couple, but Bix’s lingering trauma from her torture at the hands of the Empire’s interrogator, Dr. Gorst, still haunts her nights. As Bix’s mental health deteriorates and she turns towards narcotics to help her sleep, Cassian demands that Luthen pull her from field missions and give her time to heal.
Unfortunately, The Empire isn’t going to rest. As revealed in last week’s story arc, Death Star project manager Orson Krennic plans to strip mine the wealthy silk-farming world of Ghorman (basically a space France that has an economy entirely dependent on spider webs and whose buildings have the architectural aesthetics of an Italian coffee shop) for resources necessary for the construction of the infamous super weapon. The issue is that Ghorman is too much of a major player in galactic society for the Empire to functionally strip for parts without causing widespread uproar and discontent. No, the galactic populace needs to willingly look away as a populated planet is razed to the ground. While the Imperial propaganda machine is already well at work portraying the Ghroman people as snobbish and uppity, Dedra Meero, our resident fascist girlboss played by Denise Gough, and her bootlicking boyfriend, Syril Karn (Kyle Soller), have set their sights on infiltrating the planet’s fledgling resistance movement and setting them up for the Empire’s own ends.
If there has been a singular thesis to Andor’s second thesis so far, it’s that building an effective and unified resistance movement is a herculean task when faced with the overwhelming might of a fascist state. While last week’s arc showcased how leftwing political factions are prone to self-destructive infighting, Gilroy turns his sights this week onto how both paranoia and naivete are equally prevalent and corrosive threats to resistance movements. The Ghorman Front have genuine grievances with the Empire, but their status as a wealthy upper-class society has left them unprepared to deal with the realities of rebellion. Dedra Meero and Syril Karn are able to deceive their way into the Front’s ranks with relative ease and in the process manipulate their actions to meet the Empire’s agenda. It takes Cassian only a single meeting with Ghorman operatives to clock that its ranks are filled with well-meaning but dangerously underprepared recruits. In contrast, Wilmon’s dealings with Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker reprising his role from Rogue One) and his Partisans showcase another rebel sect that has been driven into a constant state of ruthless paranoia and manipulation. The Partisans are quick to kill anyone whose motives or allegiances feel even slightly questionable and are staunchly resistant to collaborating with other rebel cells. Gerrera himself has become so detached from reality after decades of armed conflict with the Empire that he’s developed an addiction to huffing gas fumes. The state of the rebellion is dire and scattered.
Only Luthen’s operations seem to pose any real chance of success, but his decentralized and utilitarian approach to his agents and assets carries its own problems. While some agents like Cassian have adapted well to the dangers and demands of a life fighting against the Empire (it’s a delight getting to see him easily slip into the persona of an up and coming fashion designer during his mission to Ghorman), others like Bix have reached mental and physical breaking points or are otherwise relegated to isolated and lonely lives separated from their loved ones like Vel and Cinta (more on them later). Even Mon Mothma has been finding it harder and harder to advocate for the rebellion’s need in the Senate as more and more elected officials shy away from open resistance lest they or their constituents face the consequences of a scorned Emperor. Luthen’s operation may be the most disciplined and produce the best results, but a breaking point is fast approaching. Ghorman alone is a powder keg waiting to explode and any number of our ensemble could find themselves caught in the blast radius.
Gays in Space
Damn, this week was a fucking roller coaster for our space gays. After sitting out “Ever Been to Ghorman?” and “I Have Friends Everywhere,” I was pleasantly surprised to see Vel Sartha and her starcrossed murder lover Cinta Kaz make an early appearance in this week’s final episode, “What a Festive Evening.” For the first time in over a year, the two of them have been assigned to the same mission, overseeing the fledgling Ghorman Front’s first real act of rebellion against the Imperial occupation.
But, before Vel and Cinta get to work, the two meet for a tense cup of Ghorman tea (coffee? caf?) and have the conversation they’ve been avoiding all season. Cinta arrives a weary and battered version of her normally steely self. The past year of distance has been tough for her, and her tireless crusade against the Empire has begun to wear her down. Vel’s relief at finally getting to talk to the woman she loves quickly shifts from concern at Cinta’s exhausted state to hurt and regret. Cinta was lonely, suffering and, even then, never reached out to her partner for help. Their quiet war continues to drive a wedge between them and, even as the two take a step towards reconciliation, there’s an unmistakable mood of melancholy and pain. It’s taken Cinta reaching a breaking point for her to realize her personal priorities and the harm and hurt will be hard to undo.
Even still, Cinta and Vel get a private moment to themselves before their mission with the Ghorman Front gets going. Tender, reassuring caresses evolve into quiet but eventually passionate and eager kisses before our camera suggestively fades to black. Yes, there was heavily implied lesbian sex in Star Wars. I never thought we’d see the day, but it’s here. The gays have finally taken the Galaxy Far, Far Away.
And, sure, The Rise of Skywalker will always have the dubious honor of depicting the first lesbian kiss in Star Wars, but Andor deserves recognition for not only giving us a gay makeout with a hundred times more desire and chemistry but also for having it occur between two women who are actually nuanced, multifaceted characters in a complex but committed relationship.
If only that was all I had to say about our rebelesbians this week. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just bask in the afterglow of queer space love for just a little? This is Andor though, a series about the very harsh realities of fighting back against authoritarian governments. Our heroes are each burdened by sacrifice, trauma, and tragedy. You don’t enter into a secret war and emerge unscathed. Andor doesn’t do clean reconciliations and hopeful futures. Hell, its title character’s ultimate fate is to die a fiery death via Death Star in the final moments of Rogue One. The only principal cast member we know for sure doesn’t bite it before the end of the series (or the movie it functionally serves as a prequel for) is Mon Mothma, a member of the Imperial Senate and arguably the wealthiest and most politically influential character in the series. All of this to say: I should’ve been prepared for the worst. I wasn’t.
Cinta dies.
The Ghorman Front’s carefully planned heist of an Imperial weapons convoy goes south. Despite Vel and Cinta’s repeated warnings to come to the mission unarmed, an overeager would-be rebel sneaks a blaster under his coat and pulls it out during an altercation with a nosy passerby. The gun goes off, blaster bolts zing through the night and Cinta is hit, dying a near instant death from friendly fire. It’s about as random and unjust a death possible, and it further cements the arc’s depiction of the Ghorman Front as a rebel cell whose ranks are filled with comparatively privileged individuals playing out a political revolutionary fantasy. The stakes of their rebellion feel abstract and in the process, those who have actually dedicated their lives to the cause are harmed. Vel’s angry chastising of Cinta’s murderer, who quickly devolves into a sobbing wreck when faced with the consequences of his actions, does little to lessen the blow. Cinta’s death stings as much as it should.
That being said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed by this development. Does it make thematic sense that Cinta is killed in a senseless act of violence? Yes. It’s about the most Andor storytelling move imaginable, and it’s handled with the weight and tragedy it deserves. But, damn does it suck that we’ve lost one of the most prominent on-screen queer characters in Star Wars in the same episode that gave us such a thoughtful portrayal of a lesbian relationship. Does it still count as Burying Your Gays if the storytelling feels painfully appropriate? Fuck. I don’t know. I’m sad.
If you want more queer star wars read Dr Aphra
They gave them the Lexa treatment; happy moment immediately followed by death. Well done Andor….