‘Andor’ leans into espionage with vicious intensity (Chapter 2: Ep. 4-6)

A question looms over Andor’s new compartmentalized structure: will the year-long gaps between its weekly “chapters” actually work? The time jump leading into the season premiere didn’t have that problem, since its first three episodes kicked off a brand-new story (its minor issues lay elsewhere). However, this week’s entries—“Ever Been to Ghorman?,” “I Have Friends Everywhere,” and “What a Festive Evening”—are the real narrative stress test.

Last week ended with Cassian (Diego Luna) cradling his dear friend Brasso (Joplin Sibtain), who died trying to protect Bix (Adria Arjona) and Wilmon (Muhannad Bhaier) from imperial troops. This tragedy doesn’t come up in chapter two, which is disappointing at first. If characters have reckoned with it, they’ve only done so off screen. However, it becomes clear minutes into this week’s chapter that the negative spaces between episode blocks will play a major part in building Andor’s second season. Where its first set of three episodes closed the loop on several dangling threads, its second leans hard into the show’s paranoid espionage influences—courtesy of tactile, analog spy equipment, and numerous scenes unfolding in shadow. The result is a feature-length mini-saga that fleshes out the tiniest contours of the galaxy far, far away by imbuing them with enormous stakes. It’s viciously, breathtakingly intense.

Two years after her torturous interrogation at the hands of Dr. Gorst (Joshua James), Bix still wakes up with harrowing visions that feel all too real. However, her nightmares are no longer just about her Josef Mengele-esque tormentor. They’re also about a young Imperial soldier who Cassian was forced to kill in order to protect her, sometime between the last episode and this one. The two are a couple once more, but the pressures of moving from place to place as Rebel spies, and of having to tumble deeper down a rabbit hole of moral compromises, render Bix unable to feel comfortable in the bare-bones safe house they frequent on Coruscant, the imperial capital. If it’s a home, it’s fragile and temporary. Bix’s own violence, and the violence forced upon her, grow slowly entwined in her subconscious, leaving her untethered from herself. Her solution is an abyss of intoxication, a problem exacerbated by Cassian being frequently called away on missions. However, by the end of these episodes, she finds uneasy catharsis with his help. It’s incredibly gratifying from a personal standpoint, but it raises a vital question: how far is Cassian willing to stray from the Rebellion in order to protect her?

Cassian is just one moving part in a much larger puzzle. Luthen (Stellan Skarsgård) sends him to the planet Ghorman to report back on its growing resistance to imperial presence. The Empire has hooked its tendrils into the planet, in the hopes of stealing precious minerals—similar to the fate of Cassian’s home planet, Kenari. His arrival on Ghorman allows for fun espionage antics involving secret identities: he poses as a suave designer passing through the galaxy’s fashion capital, a look that suits him. However, in learning more about Ghorman’s history, Cassian is also informed of a major tragedy mentioned in other Star Wars media (various books and the animated TV series Rebels), in which Original Trilogy mainstay Grand Moff Tarkin cruelly landed his ship on hundreds of Ghorman protesters. The event isn’t depicted here, but its specter remains front and center, as a new generation of demonstrators gather at the memorial to its victims—a distinct echo of the past, yanked into the present—in order to protest the construction of an enormous imperial facility nearby. The fact that this building is actually an armory is the galaxy’s worst-kept secret, though not necessarily by accident. If you’ll recall, Dedra (Denise Gough) suggested last week that Director Krennic (Ben Mendelsohn) plant the seeds for not only instability, but a volatile rebellion to win public favor.

Ghorman is home to much of the action, and despite it being a place we’ve never seen before, it feels immediately real and detailed. Its local language is tinged with a French accent, courtesy of numerous European actors (similar to how Chandrilan sounds like the product of British aristocracy). Its alien costumes, music, and side streets have a distinctly mid-century Parisian feel. However, the cultural coding here isn’t just aimed at exotic escapism. Rather, its purpose is historical echo. Ghorman is equally France during World War II, awaiting Nazi occupation, as much as it is France in the buildup to the May 1968 unrest, at a time when the youth banded together to take a stand. This leads to the introduction of several new characters representing the Ghorman Front, a ragtag, underground political movement led by local businessman Carro Rylanz (Richard Sammel) and his headstrong daughter Enza (Alaïs Lawson).

The Ghorman resistance is the focus of some of this week’s most intriguing drama, courtesy of none other than big-time imperial loser Syril Karn (Kyle Soller), whose job at the Bureau of Inspection has taken him all the way to their doorstep. In his video calls with his over-inquisitive mum—which have been tapped by Ghorman spies—it seems at first like Syril’s loyalties might have shifted. Once deeply concerned with security, he now sees no reason that a culture as non-threatening as the Ghormans would be demonized on the Fox-like imperial news networks watched by older generations. But, in an early twist that ought to surprise no one, the galaxy’s favorite sniveling rodent turns out to be exactly that. When Syril is approached by the Ghorman Front in secret, he sends word back to Dedra on Coruscant, whose decision to lead this gradual infiltration has rendered them a long-distance couple. He’s her secret envoy on the planet. It's a weird but fascinating dynamic: Syril is willing to do anything for Dedra, while she’s willing to use him, but they both seem fully aware of the nature of their relationship.

Information being out in the open is a common thread across several subplots this week. The Ghormans never discount the possibility that Syril is a double agent, even when they contact him in the hopes of having their own man on the inside. What’s unspoken is just as revelatory as what’s said. Both sides of this equation seem desperate: the Ghormans, to man a resistance, and Syril, to impress Dedra and rise through the ranks.

After learning of incoming weapons shipments (just as Dedra and Syril planned), the Ghorman Front hopes to stage a major heist, if only to prove beyond all doubt that the Empire’s new building project hides nefarious means. Cassian doesn’t think the Rebellion should waste its time getting involved. However, in relaying his observations to Luthen, he paves the path regardless, since Luthen hopes to see a willing (and monetarily able) battalion like the Ghormans get roped up in the fight, if only to strengthen the Rebels’ position. Parallel to this, Dedra and her security boss Partagaaz (Anton Lesser) continue to do the Emperor’s bidding by sowing the seeds of dissent, in the hopes of inevitable explosion. It’s a novel set up. For a brief moment, the Rebellion and the Empire seem to want the same thing: acceleration.

It's not all that different from the desires of armed insurgent Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker), whose more open violence departs from Luthen’s covert tactics. This difference in methodology makes things complicated for Wilmon, who’s spent the last year working for the Rebellion by designing an advanced fuel-stealing mechanism. On loan from Luthen to Saw (despite their schism in ideology), Wilmon is forced to walk a careful line, but finds uncanny kinship in Saw—who first enters the season silhouetted by golden sunlight, like a hero sent to answer Wilmon’s prayers. The young mechanic is terrified of the militant leader. But when it comes to the Empire, who killed and tortured Wilmon’s father last season, bathing in Saw’s radical ideology seems to be just what he needs. This culminates in a rousing scene at the end of their fuel heist, where Wilmon’s vacant eyes—weary from years of hiding in the shadows—light up as he breathes in the fuel vapors which Saw treats as a personal drug. It’s as if he’s drinking in the taste of freedom for the very first time. “We’re the fuel,” Saw tells him, as the music builds. “That’s freedom calling.”

This is just one of three major heists in chapter two. The others unfold side by side: one in the streets of Ghorman, and the other at an opulent party held on Coruscant (where not only a vote-courting Mon Mothma is present, but a cameoing Senator Bail Organa, played by Star Wars newcomer Benjamin Bratt). Assisted by Luthen’s confidants Vel (Faye Marsay) and Cinta (Varada Sethu)—a couple torn apart by their differing levels of allegiance to the Rebellion—the Ghorman Front seeks to disable and unload an imperial weapons tank in the dead of night. Meanwhile, Luthen and his assistant Kleya (Elizabeth Dulau)—who’ve been experiencing tensions of their own—are forced to lift an old listening device they planted on one of Sculden’s antique treasures, lest it be discovered. Both heists unfold under the watchful eye of imperial authority, which raises the stakes in sudden spurts (for instance, when Krennic turns out to be among the party guests). As the show cuts between Ghorman and Coruscant, building tension with every shot, the two heists become spiritually linked, despite only having the appearance of occurring simultaneously—a wonderful trick of editing.

The Ghormans’ inexperience leads to Cinta’s tragic death, shortly after her vulnerable near-reconciliation with Vel. While its optics are uncanny—a lesbian being shot in front of their lover, by a bullet meant for someone else, has happened a perplexing number of times, including in shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The 100—it’s hard to consider this a truly ugly addition to an ongoing trope in genre media, wherein queer characters aren’t afforded the same contentment as their heterosexual peers. In Andor, no one is destined for a happy ending, and the interpersonal strains placed on Vel and Cinta by Luthen—and by the Rebellion at large—are a key part of their sacrifice.

One heist ends in tragedy, and the other in success, leaving the audience with a sense of conflict—which also extends to the chapter’s closing minutes, in which Bix exacts her explosive revenge on Dr. Gorst with Cassian’s help. This is, on one hand, a first-pumping, celebratory moment for the characters, steeped in an act of vengeful violence. The end result (i.e. the elimination of Gorst before he can expand his program) is beneficial to the Rebels, but it’s hard not to wonder if the ensuing domino effect might endanger the entire movement, not only through larger blowback, but through more intimate ripple effects. Cassian has no doubt achieved his objective, but in a system as fragile as the fledgling Rebellion, what cracks might appear now that he’s used his mission as an avenue to help Bix exorcise her demons? For now, the alignment of his and Luthen’s goals are convenient—but what happens when they fall out of sync? How long before Cassian chooses romance over the Rebellion? It’s hard to know exactly how to feel about this climax, but in true Andor fashion, being yanked in opposing directions is the point. The episode ends on an incendiary note, with nothing more than the promise of witnessing its fallout a full year down the line.

Back when season one was being filmed, creator Tony Gilroy had intended for the series to run five seasons—a plan that was forced to change along the way—leaving season two in the unique position of funneling five years’ worth of story into a much tighter time frame. The math says each new chapter is likely a pared-down version of what a whole season might have been, which seems awkward at the outset. However, the condensed approach mirrors a famous quote of disputed origin, often misattributed to Vladimir Lenin: “There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.” The show’s latest entries re-introduce us to the Rebellion and the Empire during one such week, where the shape of the galaxy seems to irrevocably change.

Intentionally or otherwise, the episodic structure of Andor season two perfectly encapsulates this worldview. We’re brought into its story during the most impactful moments in a real and tangible history—the kind you might learn about in school, had Ghorman and Coruscant been as real as the series makes them feel. This sense of reality is more than just about real-world allusions. Director Ariel Kleiman, writer Beau Willimon, and cinematographer Damián García shape chapter two through a distinct cinematic reality, which channels the great spy stories of Steven Spielberg, shot by Janusz Kamiński. The resemblance to films like Munich and Bridge of Spies—gloomy, rain-soaked stories that unfold alternatingly in cramped rooms and under harsh spotlights—is fitting, given the entanglement of espionage and war, a fine line which Spielberg and Kamiński walk in their collaborations.

The second chapter of Andor season two walks this line as well, as a tale of covert operatives on the brink of full-blown military conflict, alternately trying to put out flames and fan them, depending on what best suits their interests. In the process, each and every moment becomes exciting, and the more information that travels between opposing parties, the more it yields infinite, explosive possibilities.