After a nearly three-year break, Andor has returned with the same quiet power that made the first season of the live-action Rogue One prequel series such a revelation — not just for the Star Wars universe, but for televised storytelling in general.
The show stars Diego Luna as Cassian Andor, a reluctant rebel whose journey from cynic to revolutionary forms the backbone of a story about how systems of control hollow people out, and how hard it is to wake up and resist. With its gritty realism, complex characters, and refusal to sugarcoat the cost of freedom, Andor continues to be the sharpest, most emotionally honest entry in the entirety of the Star Wars canon. Season 2 also makes crystal clear, once again, that Andor ranks among the best streaming TV series of the decade.
Set a year after the Ferrix uprising, the first three episodes of the new season dropped on Disney+ Tuesday, and they do a solid job of laying the groundwork for what’s to come. The story wastes no time in reconnecting with Cassian, who, as the season opens, has snuck into an Imperial facility to steal a TIE fighter. A nervous Imperial employee named Niya, too scared to even look Cassian in the eyes, is helping him, and he gives her a pep talk in the form of a stirring monologue:
“This makes it worth it. This. Right now. Being with you, being here at the moment you step into the circle … You’re coming home to yourself. You’ve become more than your fear. Let that protect you.”
It’s a speech that frames rebellion not as an act of violence, but as an act of self-reclamation.
Meanwhile, Syril Karn is still coldly climbing the Empire’s bureaucratic ladder, like the truest of true believers. “There’s a future here, for those who dare,” he tells a fresh-faced newbie at one point, about the importance of even mundane jobs to the Empire. Because this universe’s evil is comprised of more than just blasters and star destroyers. Syril’s comment is a reminder that the machine of tyranny is also built on ambition, paperwork, and people — people like Syril, whose mother still treats him like dirt and who wants to feel useful.
The cruelty of the Empire is laid bare in Episode 3, with undocumented laborers — doing vital, backbreaking work — shown being treated like livestock. Hunted, detained, and discarded, they’re a chilling stand-in for countless real-world groups. And although Andor doesn’t spell it out, the show doesn’t have to. You feel it in your gut.
And then there’s Bix. Broken, quiet, and trembling, she delivers a line that lands like a seismic jolt after a horrifying act of violence: “He tried to rape me.” It’s a moment of raw vulnerability unlike anything we’ve heard in a Star Wars story before. But Andor earns it — not by being dark for darkness’s sake, but by insisting that the cost of fascism isn’t abstract. And it doesn’t always end when the scene cuts away.
By the close of Episode 3, nothing has fully ignited — but the air is thick with smoke. This is Andor’s brilliance: Showing that revolution isn’t just action, but decision. Not just war, but conscience. These characters aren’t running toward heroism; they’re crawling, limping, and trying to remember what hope even felt like. And that’s what makes it all feel so real. There is a future here — for those who dare and are willing to pay the cost of coming home to themselves.
