There’s a moment in Andor season 2, quiet, unflashy, barely even scored, when Mon Mothma glances sideways at her driver, and we know that she knows. In that instant, the stakes aren’t political; they’re personal. That’s been the genius of Andor since season 1 debuted. It doesn’t shout. It whispers, and somehow, it’s echoed across the entire galaxy.
In a franchise defined by lightsabers, legacy names (hello, Skywalkers), and Jedi mind tricks, Andor does something bolder than a J.J. Abrams action scene ever could. It strips away the fan service and says, “What if we earned your attention the old-fashioned way? With storytelling.”
This, after all, is what Star Wars is meant to be. From the day A New Hope hit theaters in 1977, it’s really been about the stories, hasn’t it? At the crux of this galaxy we all love so much are tales we don’t even know yet murmured between smugglers and bounty hunters in dark corners of the Mos Eisley Cantina, and deals made by millionaires in Canto Bight’s high roller rooms.
Tony Gilroy’s sophomore season builds on everything Rogue One promised and then dares to dig even deeper. The show isn't dark and gritty for the sake of it. It's precise, and every moment has meaning. Every conversation in a Coruscant corridor, every hushed resistance whisper on Ghorman, every cold negotiation in Mothma’s apartment is a strand in a much larger web (of Ghorman twill, probably).
Andor returned to what Star Wars should be. This franchise isn’t about Easter eggs or shocking cameos (though those, admittedly, are fun). But, at heart, it’s about relationships, consequences, and the power of ragtag, upstart rebels that, together, had the power to change everything.
We don't need another Force prodigy or hidden Skywalker. We need more Dedra Meeros, women whose ambition burns so brightly it terrifies even them. We need more Luthens, whose speech about burning his soul for a sunrise he’ll never see still haunts my rewatches. Andor understands that rebellions aren't sparked by Chosen Ones. They’re built by ordinary, desperate people in impossible situations.
Critics got it, and so did Star Wars fans. On Rotten Tomatoes, season 2 holds a 96% average audience score and is certified fresh by critics. Time Magazine lauded the way in which Gilroy “forgoes conventional exposition in favor of character‑driven storytelling” as season 2 tracks Cassian’s transformation and culminates in the pivotal Ghorman Massacre. WSJ praised it as “a rare bright spot” in recent Star Wars content with “mature storytelling, political complexity, and grounded narrative devoid of typical franchise tropes."
On Reddit, one user captured the fan base’s overall sentiment perfectly, writing, “It’s a new Star Wars, but good. It’s good independent of Star Wars, and doesn't feel like the originals, but it's in the Star Wars Universe.”
Another reaction went even further, “I saw one review that said it was the best Star Wars media ever. Not just TV shows, but including the movies. Bold statement.”
The pacing has been a common point of discussion, and it’s true that Andor moves slowly. However, this was never a pain point for me, personally, as it does so with great purpose. It earns its silences. Unlike other shows that rely on weekly shock value or TikTok-ready reveals, Andor builds its tension like a symphony.
The Narkina 5 arc alone, anchored by Andy Serkis’s exceptional performance, feels like something out of The Wire, not a sci-fi space opera drawing on World War II fascism. Yet, it fits because Gilroy and his team made the brilliant choice to let the galaxy take a deep breath.
Of course, not everyone agrees. There are fans who found it “boring” or “too serious” in their social media commentary. That’s fair. The galaxy is sprawling, and we have room for all forms of storytelling.
That said, the cornerstone that makes Andor so special is that it doesn’t try to be everything for everyone. It knows what it is, and it commits wholeheartedly. In a post-Acolyte and post-Book Boba Fett world—where tonal inconsistency left many fans confused and frustrated (remember The Mods?) —Andor knows where it stands and fully digs its heels in.
And that is why it should be the blueprint.
The upcoming slate of Star Wars—from The Mandalorian & Grogu movie to the animated Maul: Shadow Lord show and Ahsoka’s continuation—is already in motion. As Lucasfilm seemingly retools its direction yet again, Andor proves what’s possible when the franchise takes risks.
Imagine, for a minute, a political thriller starring Bail Organa or a film noir-inspired show about bounty hunters that doesn’t just flash carbonite but asks what it means to survive in the roughest parts of the Outer Rim. Consider a tale of lost Jedi after Order 66 that doesn’t need a cameo to stick the landing. I’ve always dreamed of a Tho Yor movie that takes us way back in galactic history. These are the paths that are possible thanks to Andor.
Star Wars doesn’t need more spin-offs. It needs more substance. Just look what Gilroy was able to do without a Skywalker in sight.
If Andor taught us anything, it’s this: the most powerful revolutions don’t start with explosions or double-bladed lightsabers. They start with a whisper and the courage to listen to what the people really want.
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