Andor has always felt uncomfortably timely. I’ve mentioned in previous reviews that creator Tony Gilroy insists the parallels between today’s current political crises and authoritarian atrocities come from attention to history rather than any attempt to speak to our current moment. I believe him and, when you consider the fact that the disturbing events depicted in this season’s third episode arc (comprising “The Messenger, “Who Are You?,” and “Welcome to the Rebellion”) have been known details within Star Wars canon for decades, the unsettling parallels between fiction and reality feel coincidental but also inevitable. Authoritarian regimes commit violence, and then they lie about the violence that they perpetrate. They take lives and dictate reality for the survivors. In its most harrowing and arguably best arc to date, Andor tells an unflinching narrative of genocide, capturing in minute detail the prelude to and shattering aftermath of its violence.
The planet of Ghorman has been in the Empire’s crosshairs for years now. As we’ve seen across the previous six episodes of Andor’s second season, the Imperial war machine has a vested interest in extracting a rare metal contained deep beneath its surface, a destabilizing process that would render the planet uninhabitable. In order to get the rest of the galaxy to sign on for this act of destruction, the Imperial propaganda machine has been working overtime. When we first return to Palmo’s central plaza in “The Messenger,” it’s crowded with journalists spewing Imperial talking points, accusing the Ghormans of shirking the Empire’s social norms and conducting scattered attacks (many of which are hinted at being inside jobs conducted by ISB agents) against the occupying forces. The narrative of an overly privileged and rudely defiant culture has taken root the galaxy over. When ISB leader Lio Partagaz informs his protege Dedra Meero that the Ghorman campaign will be coming to its explosive end soon, it’s already clear the Empire will get what it wants. The political and social momentum is on their side. The material need for Ghorman’s destruction is pressing. The Empire simply needs to light a match and watch Palmo and the rest of the planet go up in flames.
“The Messenger” and “Who Are You?” both make the coming Imperial genocide feel like a looming stormfront, but one only a select few can see. It only takes Cassian — who is on planet to take part in a quickly scuttled assassination attempt of Meero — a few seconds to realize on the morning of the massacre that the Empire has changed its behavior. The formerly occupied city plaza is cleared out, the barricades are moved to Imperial headquarters, and the troops slowly begin to move themselves in front of potential exits. The Empire, as always, has a plan.
As passionately chanting Ghorman protesters flood the now cleared plaza, the coming violence dawns not only on Cassian and a few horrified members of the Ghorman Front, but to Syril Karn, the series’ resident fascist fanboy. When Syril was first introduced in the series’ opening arc, he was an ambitious corporate cop, eager to enforce the rules and regulations of the Empire. Syril’s singular focus for maintaining law and order has been his defining characteristic, even as his career and status are quickly stripped away from him. His dedication to maintaining Imperial security is what initially endears him to Meero and lands him an ISB job on Ghroman helping to manipulate the local resistance movement.
While Syril has never stopped hating who he views as dissidents, terrorists, and criminals, Andor has shown over the past few episodes that he does hold a modicum of empathy for the Ghorman people themselves. When he slowly begins to understand just what exactly he helped his partner and the ISB set into motion, it’s world shattering. What the Empire is poised to enact on the Ghorman plaza isn’t some twisted form of keeping the peace or punishing the guilty; it’s manufactured permission to commit genocide. Syril realizes that not only is his partner the mastermind of the slaughter, but that his own dedication to the Imperial cause is equally to blame. Fascism doesn’t care about laws, rules, or justice. These are simply tools by which it can accomplish its consolidation of power. It depends on idealistic and short-sighted supporters like Syril to make that possible. At the end of the day, that’s all Syril ever was to the Empire, a tool in its world devouring war machine.
And, of course, appropriately, he realizes too late. The massacre of Ghorman begins with a strategically placed shot by an Imperial sniper and blanket permission by Meero and her compatriots to open fire on civilians. Syril doesn’t get to be the hero. You cannot save the day while doing the work of fascism. He gets to witness firsthand the capricious cruelty of the government he’s dedicated his life to and, shortly after, experiences as undignified a fate as possible. It’s a fitting conclusion for one of Andor’s best antagonists.
The massacre that unfolds in the final third of “Who Are You?” is maybe the most intense and upsetting sequence in the Star Wars universe. While the violence is still couched in the trappings of space opera and fantasy, the chaos and disregard for life depicted carries the horrifying weight it should. Director Janus Metz and episodic writer Dan Gilroy so masterfully capture the rising tension of the moment and the chaotic violence that follows that it hardly matters that the weapons of war being used are laser guns and seven-foot-tall skeletal security droids; it’s still the government sanctioned mass murder of civilians. Andor appropriately doesn’t depict the Empire’s actions on Palmo as some sort of thrilling action sequence. Cassian doesn’t get the chance to play hero and rescue civilians. There are no flashy takedowns of Stormtroopers or Imperial security. There’s just terror and a mad scramble to survive. Many do not.
In the smoke-clogged aftermath of the massacre, the Empire is quick to blame the death and destruction on Ghorman’s civilians while painting its own fallen operatives as patriotic heroes gunned down in a senseless act of defiance. “Who Are You?” hauntingly closes out with a shot of Syril Karn’s mother sobbing at a news broadcast, eating up every word of propaganda about her son’s demise.
In the immediate aftermath of the massacre, Ghorman’s representative in the Imperial senate is arrested and Mon Mothma decides she’s had enough. She can no longer be part of a government that arrests its own elected officials, murders its civilians, and then shirks any accountability. Her incremental attempts to stem the tide of fascism from within the system have failed. All she can do now is speak out against the Empire’s actions and commit herself to the rebellion.
“Welcome to the Rebellion” almost entirely focuses on Mothma’s preparation and delivery of a speech condemning the Empire’s actions. However, it is openly known that this degree of open defiance against The Emperor will end in her near immediate arrest and disappearance. This not only means a threat to Mothma’s safety, but her role in funding and coordinating with Luthen’s rebellion means her capture could potentially collapse the entire resistance movement. Once again, Janus Metz and Dan Gilroy craft a masterfully suspenseful hour of television as Mothma prepares to burn down her public life for good and Cassian enacts a desperate extraction effort to get the Senator to safety.
There’s so much to talk about in “Welcome to the Rebellion.” It marks a turning point within the Star Wars universe, finally introduces Cassian to Mon Mothma and to his Rogue One companion K-2SO. It also has a lot to say about the personal sacrifices needed to fight against the forces of fascism. I wanted to call attention to Mon Mothma’s speech though. Andor has delivered some already iconic monologues in its time (I rewatch Maarva’s hologram eulogy after pretty much every bit of awful political news), and this was no exception. In maybe the series’ most pointedly political statement to date, Mon Mothma calls out the Empire for its actions on Ghorman and for its lying and obfuscation of responsibility.
“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. The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil. 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. This Chamber’s hold on the truth was finally lost on the Ghorman Plaza. What took place yesterday… what happened yesterday on Ghorman was unprovoked genocide! Yes! Genocide! And that truth has been exiled from this chamber! And the monster screaming the loudest? The monster we’ve helped create? The monster who will come for us all soon enough is Emperor Palpatine!”
Denying objective truth is the ultimate weapon of authoritarianism. The words we use to describe our shared reality matter. In Star Wars and in our world, the mass murder of civilians is genocide. It is our moral duty and obligation to say this, to not look away from the atrocities committed by those in power even as they do their damndest to make us do otherwise.
There isn’t a more pressing and thought-provoking series airing right now. Few other shows dare to speak as directly and unflinchingly to the cruelty of the American empire and its allies, but also to the necessity of pushback to that violence, even if it requires the hardest of sacrifices. It’s masterful and essential television.
Gays in Space
I guess it showed after last week’s review that I’ve never watched The 100. Quite a few readers saw an unfortunate parallel between Cinta’s tragic death in “What a Festive Evening” and Lexa’s similar murder in the dystopian YA series, which in turn made me think of the killing of Tara Maclay in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What exactly is the fixation in giving lesbians a moment of happiness before having them gunned down by a stray bullet (or blaster bolt in Cinta’s case)? It’s a weirdly consistent trend. While I cannot speak to Lexa and The 100, I will say that Cinta’s death in Andor feels to me much more purposeful and tonally consistent than Tara’s shock factor slaying in Buffy. This season of Andor has been killing off major characters left and right; this week has even heavier losses. Heroes, soldiers, and passersby die senseless deaths during revolution. I can rationalize killing off Cinta for this reason, but the ways that her murder so clearly evokes problematic storytelling choices in other series is worthy of discussion, debate, and critique.
We do get to check in on Vel briefly this week. Understandably, the year since Cinta’s passing has been a taxing one. After months of harsh smuggling runs and self-punishing field missions, Vel returns to the newly constructed base on Yavin IV to recuperate and be of more practical use to the rebellion. It’s refreshing to see her talk with Bix about her grieving process and how she currently views herself within the context of the war effort. Andor is populated with so many fascinating and multilayered women characters that it’s always a delight anytime they finally get to cross paths with one another. While Vel’s comments to Bix mostly serve as a way to help feed into her decision to abandon Cassian so he stays dedicated to the cause, it’s still a wonderfully acted sequence that adds further depth to two already standout characters.
Other than that, unfortunately, we are low on space gay content this week, but given how outstanding and busy these three installments are, I can’t really complain too much. Only three more episodes to go before this all ends. There’s a lot to cover before Andor closes out this era of Star Wars storytelling, but I hope that at the very least Vel doesn’t get lost in the shuffle. She deserves an ending that’s as compelling and nuanced as she is.
