I’ve never sat down to watch a Star Wars property and thought to myself, “what this franchise needs is more intimate partner violence, child marriage, and attempted sexual assault.” All of that is in the Disney+ show, Andor season 2.
Somehow, that’s just skimming the surface of how lazy and backward the entire season is. For a show that’s releasing in the year 2025, the overarching sentiment is of a bygone era—one that even manages to outmatch some of the problematic elements of the original Star Wars trilogy.
Like its predecessor, Andor season 2 is broken up into four chapters of three episodes each. However, this time around, there’s a time jump between each chapter as the show attempts to lead us straight to the start of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. In its haste to get there, unfortunately, the story, the characters, and especially Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) himself, are sidelined.
The Gilroy brothers worked together on Andor— Tony Gilroy created the show and wrote some of the episodes, Dan Gilroy also served as a writer, while John Gilroy was the editor. Sometimes, having an outside perspective helps change the point of view of a story, and Andor Season 2 is a prime example of that need.
What happened before Andor season 2
At the end of Andor season 1, Cassian had decided to join secret revolutionary Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård) on his mission to take down the Empire. This was on the back of Andor’s mother’s death—a death made memorable through a recording she’d left rallying her home system, Ferrix, to fight back against the Empire. Meanwhile, Cassian’s friends, Brasso (Joplin Sibtain), Wilmon (Muhannad Ben Amor), B2EMO, and a traumatised Bix Caleen (Adria Arjona) left for parts unknown.
Elsewhere, ambitious Imperial officer Dedra Meero (Denise Gough) was saved by simpering Syril Karn (Kyle Soller). And, Senator Mon Mothma (Genevieve O'Reilly) had to make an uncomfortable alliance with a shady thug named Davo Sculdun (Richard Dillane) to circumvent her financial troubles.
Plus, we saw that construction of the Death Star was well underway.
Andor season 2 fails its sharacters
However exciting the writing in Season 1 was, the problem was that it came at the cost of some of the characters, mainly Cassian and Mon Mothma.
By the end of season 2, one is no closer to understanding what makes Cassian the morally ambiguous hero we saw in Rogue One, because Cassian isn’t treated like a character. He’s a piece of a puzzle that the creative team doesn’t know what to do with. Just existing isn’t representation, but that’s how Cassian is treated—it was bad in Season 1, it’s so much worse in Season 2.
He disappears for swathes of the story, spends a lot of screentime helpless and inert, or he’s just plain stupid, which is such a far cry from the man we saw in Rogue One. The associations he built in season 1, and the ones that are in the background of Rogue One, are not developed. We don’t have to bring every character back, but this season is sandwiched between known text that should have bridged that together. Cassian’s motivations remain an enigma; worse, this show suggests that everything he tells Jyn Erso (Felicity Jones) in Rogue One is a lie. What a choice to make for one of the few Latino heroes in Star Wars.
Throughout the 12 episodes of the show’s first season, we were introduced to several other characters, systems, and plot lines. If you’re looking for closure on all of them, you will not get it. The second season doesn’t build off the first— it brings a few of the supporting cast back, but they’re not characters as much as they are catalysts or plot points. The events and places of the first season are alluded to, but a lot of their significance is minimized or ignored. In fact, from chapter to chapter in the second season, story beats are either completely forgotten or trivialized to the point of non-relevance.
Mon Mothma is the other character done a grievous disservice. Her season 1 storyline was almost exclusively situated within the confines of her domestic life and her financial difficulties. Her story isn’t that monotonous in season 2. We do get to see her in the Senate, albeit not as much as one would expect given that the story takes place during the heart of the Age of Rebellion. What baffles me is the decision to sideline her as a Rebel Leader, nay, the co-founder of the Rebel Alliance, in favour of Luthen. If there’s one thing we know about Mon Mothma, it’s that she is the Rebel Alliance. And yet, we’re told something completely different in Andor season 2.
The central thesis of this season, I would go as far as to say this show, is that nothing heroic and extraordinary can originate from a character who is not played by a white man. There are at least three major instances in Andor season 2 of something important that we have always associated with a character who is not white, or not male, in Star Wars. They are snatched away from these characters. This is Finn (John Boyega) and Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) being sidelined all over again. It’s even more egregious given that Andor is a prequel to Rogue One, a film that had such a diverse cast, a leading heroine, and took place against a backdrop that resembled the ongoing and oft-forgotten fights in the Middle East.
You know the line you hear Cassian say in the trailer, “Welcome to the Rebellion,” you’ll never guess who he says it to. You should be outraged at how patronizing this whole season is, not only to the viewers, but to the characters. As for the rest of the characters. Bix is just there, given nothing to do but be traumatised or sit about. Vel Sartha (Faye Marsay) gets to do something for part of an episode, but mostly stands about. I’m flummoxed by the choices made for Dedra; Syril has far too little screen time. Even Luthen is written inconsistently. The only character who is compelling throughout is Luthen’s assistant Kleya (Elizabeth Dulau)—her dogged, no-nonsense attitude cuts through the stodgy writing.
Andor season 2 ignores established canon
These character issues are only possible because this season rewrites established canon. Star Wars is nearly 50 years old; there’s a lot of canon out there. It’s a lot, and it can be confusing. But some of the existing mythology that Andor season 2 ignores, hijacks, or disregards are obvious and quick to research. Why did they go down the route of dismissing canon? It’s laziness; I can’t think of any other reason.
The first season of Andor was hailed by many critics, and to its credit, the writing was layered and compact, interweaving story threads that expanded the world of Star Wars. Whatever spark there was in season 1, dissipates in this season. Andor Season 2 has the luxury of 12 episodes, which are between 42-58 minutes long; there’s so much time to develop the characters, expand on the events of the first season, and lay the foundation for the people and era we see in Rogue One. And yet, it feels like we still aren’t any closer to knowing these people, and definitely not knowing the Rebel Alliance.
The writing is like molasses—every scene is laboured, going on and on, running in place, before swiftly moving to the next plot point, resolution be damned. The characters are least important to the plot; they’re saddled with prolonged scenes of domesticity, which doesn’t develop our understanding of who these people are at all.
Yes, they sit together and enjoy a meal or play games. We know that. We don’t need to spend precious screen time humanizing these characters. The members of Rogue One were introduced and killed off over the course of one film, and we cried for them because they were written as full-fledged people. What’s the point of a prequel show if it doesn’t develop and expand our understanding of the people and the world we meet in Rogue One? Because again, that’s what happens at the end of Andor—it’s a series of events that happen to these characters.
Not content with ignoring canon, the show’s creative team decides to use every shorthand possible to move the story forward, hence the aforementioned attempted sexual assault. And here’s the thing, if one is including something that real and dark into a science-fiction property, then it has to be handled with care and consequence. But, it isn’t.
Andor season 2 immediately undermines the character’s trauma by adding a different tragedy, and it's never mentioned again. This is a huge issue for real-life trauma survivors.
What does work in the season is the directing by Ariel Kleiman (episodes 1-6) and John Gilroy’s editing. They interweave the narrative to up the pace. Once this team is broken up, the episodes lack any sense of pace. And the outfits, especially on Chandrila, are stupendous. But, that’s not enough to elevate the disappointment that is Andor season 2.
The theme of the first season—the need for radical action by all against a tyrannical regime—is the basis of the story for season 2, not to mention being especially relevant given the current political climate. But it is executed in such spectacularly unimaginative fashion that it leaves little space for insightful commentary. It is but another plot point in a series of plot points. A grounded approach to Star Wars should never have come at the cost of giving the few non-white and non-male characters in the franchise their due. And even beyond that, it shouldn’t come at the cost of good storytelling.