SERIES REVIEW – The second season of Andor takes the Star Wars universe into far grittier, more realistic, and decidedly bloodier territory, shining a light on the day-to-day struggles of everyday heroes and the machinery of oppression. No Jedi mystique, no myth-busting epics – just flesh-and-blood people fighting for survival and rebellion. Spun from the overlooked thread of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, it becomes a potent, political thriller that firmly establishes itself as the franchise’s strongest small-screen outing. Tony Gilroy’s series ultimately proves that Star Wars is at its most compelling when revolutions are born in the shadowy corners of the galaxy.

Back in 2016, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story was a darling of both critics and box offices, yet it barely made a lasting mark on pop culture. Despite growing out of the legendary opening crawl of Star Wars: A New Hope, it was already seen at release as little more than a footnote. Its subtitle signaled Disney’s intent to crank out standalone anthology films – a plan that fizzled with the ill-fated Solo: A Star Wars Story, leaving Rogue One in the dust, as though it had never existed.

When a seemingly minor story becomes a grand drama

One of Andor’s greatest strengths is how it elevates that modest footnote from Rogue One into a sweeping, monumental finale. We’re watching the prequel to a prequel, following a protagonist who – spoiler alert – dies stealing the Death Star plans, making his story seem even more marginal at first glance. But it’s this very marginality that becomes the show’s driving force: the low narrative stakes and known endpoint give Tony Gilroy complete freedom to explore his own vision. Everyday heroes – rebels and cogs in the Imperial machine alike – take center stage. While season one was already the most thrilling Star Wars content of Disney’s streaming era, the second season raises the bar for what Star Wars ought to be.

A strangely long, yet complete story

The two-season structure might seem odd: too long for a miniseries, too short for a classic TV epic. But Andor surprises again: season one, which premiered in fall 2022, took Diego Luna’s Cassian from a petty survivor to a committed revolutionary, while season two spans five years, reaching right up to the moments before Rogue One.
The 12 episodes are split into four distinct blocks, each set a year apart – the three-episode weekly drops not only align with awards season but perfectly match the show’s rhythm. Only the final block suffers a bit from excessive exposition, focusing more on setting up the characters and backdrop of Rogue One than on building to an independent climax. But even that reinforces the idea that the film now feels like an extension of Andor, not the other way around. Gilroy – who also reworked Rogue One’s reshoots – constructs the series backward from its end, with every hero ultimately sacrificing themselves for the cause. Season two doubles down on the tension between fate and free will, maintaining the raw realism and the intricate mechanics of an everyday revolution that made season one so powerful.

Ghorman: from dusty outpost to revolutionary spark

But not everything stays quiet. The second season’s key location is the planet Ghorman – a dusty, textile-focused world the Empire targets for the hidden minerals it needs for its superweapon. (Season one’s epilogue already revealed that Cassian’s slave labor built the Death Star panels – that endless, dehumanizing assembly line is the true symbol of the dictatorship here.) Imperial officer Dedra Meero wants to provoke a “reliably radical rebellion” to justify a brutal crackdown. Her scheme turns Ghorman into the focal point for both Meero and the rebels’ enigmatic leader, Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård). In this Jedi-free galaxy, with no black-and-white morality of the Force, Andor never simplifies: fierce debates rage within the rebellion about peaceful protest versus armed resistance, even as ragtag guerrillas slowly become a real rebel army. These aren’t sterile history lessons – these are visceral, flesh-and-blood dramas. Cassian and Bix (Adria Arjona), broken after torture, are just two examples of characters who live and suffer in the story’s margins.
And when the spark at Ghorman finally ignites, it bursts into a spectacular blaze. Michael Wilkinson’s costume design, the world-building around traditional crafts, and the show’s invented language all give Ghorman the spirit of French revolutions and wartime resistance – from the movements of World War II to the tragic romance of Les Misérables. If Tony Gilroy and his collaborators (Beau Willimon, Dan Gilroy, Tom Bissell, with block directors Ariel Kleiman, Janus Metz, and Alonso Ruizpalacios) weren’t so historically conscious, it would be easy to accuse them of heavy-handed political commentary. But Andor’s second season was written years ago – it’s not mirroring the news but revealing the timeless nature of power.

Where does Star Wars go from here?

Even so, Andor feels whole and complete – but it also raises questions about the future of Star Wars, especially with Lucasfilm chief Kathleen Kennedy rumored to be on the way out. Gilroy and his team show a clear path forward: not every Star Wars story needs to be a political drama for grown-ups, but the franchise would be wise to lean into narrower focus, character-driven stories, and auteur vision. Leslye Headland’s The Acolyte nearly got there – it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t deserve such a sudden cancellation. Maybe Star Wars can learn from the past, just as Andor did. Was it worth it?

-Gergely Herpai “BadSector”-