WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS for Star Wars: Andor episodes 7-9.
It's been clear from the very first Star Wars: Andor episode that this show is different. Despite its similarities to other Star Wars small-screen projects -- featuring familiar characters, repeating common franchise themes, and attempting to connect a new story to one that came before, in this case Rogue One: A Star Wars Story -- its methods for delivering its messages have captured audiences in a new and somewhat revolutionary way.
One of the most important things Andor has accomplished thus far is its insistence on rebelling against fans' general expectations of a Star Wars show. Star Wars has always been political; it has always been critical of abuse of power in society. Depending on the specific story and its target audience, however, it sometimes presents its reflections on the modern world at varying levels of intensity. Not necessarily talking down to certain groups or underestimating their intelligence, but rather framing events in a way that are digestible for whoever might be listening.
Andor, especially in this week's trio of episodes taking place in 2 BBY, demands that its raw, brutal, often uncomfortable criticisms of our real-world political climate be acknowledged. Many won't do that and won't like those who do, but that's on them, not the show or its creators. All that Andor does is create space for conversations to be had. That is a task it has willingly agreed to. Whether viewers engage with its material in meaningful ways is up to them.
Let's take the Ghorrman massacre in episode 8, for example, and Mon Mothma's use of the word "genocide" in episode 9. This is fake and in space in the way A New Hope is just a fun adventure about the fight between good and evil. No -- the 1977 film was a direct response to the Vietnam War. What is this particular arc of Andor responding to? Take your pick. It draws inspiration from other Star Wars narratives, sure. But it also takes the harsh realities of 2020s America, and plenty of historical events prior around the globe, to hit its messages home. Why were we forced to see the massacre play out so graphically? Because we have seen these things happen on our own television screens, and this is unlikely to change in the months and years to come.
This show is much less interested in telling a good Star Wars story -- which it ends up doing anyway as a byproduct -- and much more concerned with using Star Wars as a window into the horrors many of its viewers have not yet acknowledged are happening around them. Ghorrman was too much even for Dedra, who knew all along what the Empire was planning but did not consider it would look and feel like that. You wanted Andor to feature more explosions, blasters, and death? You got it.
If you walked away from these episodes feeling an overwhelming sense of despair, that means Andor did exactly what it set out to do this week. When a show makes you feel bad, it's not because the show is bad -- it's because it forced you to experience something that induced a real emotional response. If Star Wars does not make you feel something when you engage with it -- whether it's joy or sorrow -- you're not fully engaging with it at all.
Yes, Andor is a good show. It's excellent Star Wars. But to fully explore why that is, we must acknowledge that Andor resonates with people because it is, in itself, a rebellion against the expected. We are not meant to walk away from this final season unchanged. There is a time and a place for leaning on a galaxy far, far away to fuel our desire for escapism, to bring us joy, and temporarily erase our pain. Andor is neither that time nor that place. Sometimes, Star Wars screams at us to pay attention. It is the time and the place to listen.