Andor is over, and while the show was complex, my thoughts on the series are simple. It was special. It’s one of the best TV series ever made, a brilliant, mature, emotional story of power, rebellion, and the human spirit. It featured world-class writing, directing, production, and acting. It delivered some of my favorite characters and episodes of all-time. I adored it, both personally and professionally. And yet, despite how much I loved it, I am finding it hard to write about its conclusion for an unusual reason: I can’t believe Andor actually existed.
The Disney era of Star Wars has been a mixed bag, but of all its projects, the one I was least excited about is the one Lucasfilm announced on Nocember 8, 2018, a whole year before Disney+ even launched. That’s when we learned about a prequel centered on Diego Luna’s ill-fated Rogue One character. What were the odds on that day a prequel for a streaming service that didn’t exist yet, one starring the second lead of a standalone movie (that was itself a prequel), would end up being the best thing Star Wars ever made? What if on that day I also told you the show would never feature a single Jedi or lightsaber?
Before Andor‘s two-season run, the only reasonable answer to that question would have been “zero percent.”
How could it have been anything else? George Lucas created the galaxy far, far away for kids. Its foundation is the Force, which didn’t even have a presence on Tony Gilroy’s show until it was nearly done. Yet Andor was planning to use a sci-fi hero’s journey fantasy—founded on space magic in a franchise that often times gets very silly (both good and bad)—as the basis for a serious adult drama full of rich, sophisticated ideas about oppression. And that show was going to be good, let alone a masterpiece?
Even now that Gilroy did exactly that, it still sounds impossible. And we should never stop being amazed by that. What we can only appreciate now is that thing that made Andor seem like such a long shot for greatness is the very thing that elevated it to rarefied place in television history.
There have been lots of other amazing adult dramas with impeccable writing, acting, directing, production, characters, and themes in the last 30 years. But none of them did it with the degree of difficulty Andor took on. It delivered greatness not on its own terms, but within the confines of a long-running, beloved franchise. Unlike another all-time spinoff, Better Call Saul, the very essence of Andor‘s world—the very things that people love most about Star Wars—made a very serious adult show seem like a potential disaster.
Tony Gilroy could have told a great story about rebellion anywhere with anyone. Andor was (unfortunately) incredibly timely, but its best ideas are eternal. They would have worked in any context. He also created all-time great characters, like Luthen Rael, Kleya, and Kino Loy, who would have been incredible on a wholly original series. But what he couldn’t have done on a show like that is deliver a hero like Mon Mothma.
Even with the exact same storyline and performer, Mon’s equivalent in another galaxy wouldn’t have been as good. Another show with a different setting wouldn’t have come with decades of history. We wouldn’t have been able to appreciate the full depth of Mon’s bravery if we didn’t understand the perils of the Senate and Palpatine. Of Darth Vader and the destruction of the Jedi Order. Of the light side and the dark side of the Force. Those Jedi and Sith weren’t part of the show, but they were part of the history and emotional weight both viewers and the show brought to it. Andor didn’t let itself be limited by the galaxy far, far away. It made it a strength by making it a vital part of its story. Andor turned a possible anchor into its engine.
A story about the ground level work done by unsung, normal, everyday people in a galaxy we already knew intimately, one previously defined by special people with special powers, is exactly what made Andor‘s story richer. Knowing the depths of the evil Cassian faced from the moment the show started gave everything that happened on the series more meaning. We already knew this place. We knew the enemy. And we also knew what the people risking their safety and their lives every step of the way would accomplish. Each tragedy, each death, each broken spirit was never for naught. In that way, Andor is the quintessential Star Wars story, because it was inherently hopeful.
So while Andor didn’t include one single lightsaber, it embraced the history and love so many have for this franchise and this story. The series was, against all odds, its own thing yet wholly of Star Wars. If it were anything else it would have still been great, but it wouldn’t have meant as much. It wouldn’t have been as powerful or emotional. In the end it just wouldn’t have been as special.
It would be easy to say Andor “saved” Star Wars, but Star Wars was just fine doing what it had always done. The franchise would have endured for generations only creating stories of larger-than-life heroes and villains aimed at both children and adults alike. (The fact anyone at Lucasfilm or Disney even approved a series like this only adds to the impossibility of its existence.) Andor didn’t need to fix anything. It just needed to be Andor, and it was. And it was better than anything anyone ever could have imagined. We know because we all got to experience it.
I just can’t believe it actually existed. But I will be forever grateful it did.
Mikey Walsh is a staff writer at Nerdist. Hell never fully believe Andor happened and he got to write about it. You can follow him on Bluesky at @burgermike. And also anywhere someone is ranking the Targaryen kings.
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