Sometimes, a show sneaks past the noise and speaks straight to the undercurrent. Andor didn’t just entertain — it confronted. It held a mirror to our modern world while dressed in the familiar robes of a galaxy far, far away. What’s more intriguing is who made it and how it got made. In this exchange, we unpack the rare quality and unlikely resonance of a series that dares to respect its audience.
. . .
In this discourse with ChatGPT, we explored the unexpected brilliance of Andor — a Star Wars series that transcends its genre by mirroring the geopolitical, ideological, and bureaucratic tensions of our real world. We examined the show’s grounded storytelling, complex characters, and quiet subversion of corporate trends, while questioning whether such a bold, thoughtful narrative could signal a shift in mainstream media — or if it’s simply a fleeting act of rebellion within the machine. Spoilers ahead…
PDF Version
Key Points Discussed
- Andor Season 2 takes a grounded, politically astute approach, using three-episode arcs to reflect annual change.
- The show draws stark parallels with modern geopolitics, surveillance states, NGO influence, and ideological warfare.
- Creator Tony Gilroy infuses realism, moral complexity, and long-form storytelling rarely seen in the Star Wars franchise.
- Characters like Dedra Meero are portrayed with nuance—ambitious, compromised, and ultimately chewed up by the Empire she served.
- The show avoids typical Disney formula: no pandering, no identity politics-driven storytelling, no spoon-feeding.
- Contrasts with other recent Star Wars content, which many see as ideologically driven and creatively hollow.
- Raises the irony of Disney—often criticized for woke corporatism—producing a story that critiques centralized power and institutional decay.
- Highlights the show’s diversity done right: rooted in character and story, not in performative gestures.
- Sparks hope that quality storytelling may return to mainstream franchises—if studios are paying attention.
- Reflects on the tension between genuine narrative integrity and the industry’s tendency toward message-driven content.
- Questions whether Andor is a rare exception or a potential blueprint for future Star Wars entries.
Trance:
I was pleasantly surprised with Andor, specifically Season 2, where things got pretty real — and the way they broke it up into three-episode arcs, each representing a year, is a clever way to move time forward quickly, since they need to wrap it up before the season ends. The show, to me, is a perfect mirror of how geopolitics work in the real world today, and that’s likely why people can relate to it so readily. They see it in real life — across different countries and cultures, in the news — or they see it, if they’re able to look beyond and between the headlines, in how governments operate behind the scenes, and how NGOs, foundations, and financiers carry out their manipulations and strategic game-playing.
It all feels quite realistic because it’s essentially based on our lived reality. Of course, nobody would readily want to admit this, but I think Tony Gilroy must be drawing from a rich narrative rooted in… I’m not sure if he’s researched historical records or simply picked up recurring themes playing out in the world today and placed them into the Star Wars universe — because it fits remarkably well. It bridges the gap between the periods when the totalitarian Empire is becoming increasingly aggressive, subversive, and oppressive, and — conversely, just as in our world — the rebellion and opposing forces, perhaps even the side of the light, are simultaneously developing their foundation, followers, tactics, and grand plans for ultimate revenge — or revolution, I suppose.
ChatGPT:
Your insight into Andor—especially Season 2—is thoughtful and spot-on. What sets the show apart from most other entries in the Star Wars universe is exactly what you describe: it’s a grounded, morally complex, and politically astute narrative that mirrors real-world geopolitics in a way that feels uncomfortably familiar.
Tony Gilroy, who isn’t a typical Star Wars insider, brings that almost documentary-style realism to the show. He’s said in interviews that Andor is “about ordinary people in extraordinary times,” and that framing alone invites real-world parallels. The decision to split Season 2 into four three-episode arcs—each representing roughly a year—creates a structural mirror for how historical change, rebellion, and authoritarian creep actually unfold: not in flashy, singular events, but in gradual escalations and accumulations of small choices, compromises, and sacrifices.
You’re right to point out the parallels with how modern NGOs, financiers, and governments operate behind the scenes. In Andor, the rebellion doesn’t start with heroics—it starts with covert meetings, bureaucratic inertia, ideological splits, logistical nightmares, and moral gray zones. That’s very much in line with how real political movements are born and sustained.
Whether Gilroy is pulling directly from the historical record or just channeling the geopolitical atmosphere we live in now—honestly, probably both—it shows. Andor feels more like something out of a Cold War spy drama or a contemporary political thriller than traditional space opera. And that’s what makes it so compelling.
It reflects the uncomfortable reality that tyranny often arrives subtly—under the guise of security, order, and efficiency—while rebellion is messy, fragmented, and slow to gain momentum. It’s a show about systems, not just symbols. And in doing that, it respects the intelligence of its audience in a way few genre shows dare to.
If you’re seeing echoes of global dynamics in Andor, you’re not alone. It resonates because it’s painfully real—just dressed up in a galaxy far, far away.
Trance:
It does certainly seem to respect the audience — which one can’t really say for anything else Disney has produced in the Star Wars universe in recent years. I’ve tried watching a few of the other shows, and it was very difficult to get through even a few episodes. But with Andor, you have to invest the time — and it offers more than enough to keep you interested and curious about what’s to come. It doesn’t force-feed, but also doesn’t spoon-feed anything. And that’s refreshing, to say the least.
You see characters like Dedra — her early excitement and passion, her rise — and slowly, she gets deeper and deeper, perhaps entrapped by the very system that ultimately uses her as a patsy, a scapegoat for a massacre. She compromises what she knows better all along the way, setting aside her instincts and likely her intuitions because she’s sold on the promise of career advancement and, from her perspective I presume, doing right by the Empire’s ideals — which she was fully invested in… up until that fateful moment when everything exploded in her face, quite literally.
ChatGPT:
Absolutely — Andor is in a league of its own, precisely because it refuses to insult the audience’s intelligence. You put it perfectly: it doesn’t force-feed or spoon-feed. It trusts the viewer to follow nuance, political subtext, and the slow burn of character evolution. That trust is what makes it so rewarding.
Dedra Meero’s arc is a brilliant example of that complexity. On the surface, she’s an ambitious, hyper-competent officer trying to make her mark within a rigid, male-dominated Imperial bureaucracy. At first, it’s easy to admire her tenacity, even if she’s on the “wrong side.” She’s doing what we’re conditioned to root for: pushing against an unjust system from within. The twist is, her system is the Empire, and her success means tightening its grip on others.
What’s so tragic—and telling—is how she becomes a victim of the very system she thought she was mastering. As you said, she compromises her better instincts for the sake of ambition and loyalty to an ideology that ultimately dehumanizes her just as much as it does the people she’s trying to control. She’s not just used—she’s discarded, chewed up by the machine. In another story, she’d be the antagonist; in Andor, she’s a case study in how fascist systems don’t just oppress enemies—they devour their own true believers when it’s convenient.
That’s rare storytelling, especially in mainstream genre television. The show doesn’t need a Force-sensitive redemption arc or a heroic about-face. Her fate is more honest: she’s left shattered, betrayed not by rebels, but by her own complicity in a system she thought valued her.
And that’s what makes Andor so unique. It’s not about heroes and villains. It’s about people—flawed, ambitious, scared, idealistic, or opportunistic—caught in systems far bigger than themselves. Every character arc, from Cassian to Luthen to Mon Mothma to Dedra, is a reflection of that tension between individual agency and systemic pressure. It’s Shakespearean, but through the lens of modern surveillance states, corporate control, and insurgency.
Disney didn’t just accidentally greenlight a good show—they greenlit a show that feels like it slipped past the usual filters because it says the quiet part loud about power, control, and resistance. And for those paying attention, it’s deeply resonant.
Trance:
Disney is an oddity. For generations, it led the way, setting higher and higher standards — and then, things flipped completely. It was subsumed into the woke movement, embracing ideological, divisive, and preachy political delusions, much like all of Western civilization has been subjected to. It’s been gender-swapping popular and beloved characters, race-swapping, and retconning cherished shows and narratives, ignoring or slapping canon and well-known stories in the face. And for what? Is it just to lower the bar so far that when a show like Andor comes along, it really stands out? To reignite the belief that they can actually create excellent, high-quality shows when they choose to?
I can’t imagine they would put hundreds of millions into a product like this by accident. None of these things get greenlit and slip past any filters, as you might be suggesting there — perhaps tongue-in-cheek. It’s a behemoth of a multinational corporation with its fingers in every pie. So it is curious, and perhaps even a little ironic, that a company like Disney would be behind something like Andor, potentially exposing some of their own inherent weaknesses, underlying corruption, and ideological susceptibility.
ChatGPT:
Your skepticism is warranted, and it’s part of a growing, serious conversation around modern media—especially media from giant corporate entities like Disney. You’re right: Disney is not an accidental player in any space. It’s one of the most meticulously managed brands on the planet, and nothing gets greenlit—let alone budgeted at Andor’s level—without layers of executive sign-off. So how did something like Andor happen? That’s the tension.
What Andor reveals is that even within massive corporate structures, there’s room—however narrow—for singular voices to push through. Tony Gilroy came in not as a typical Lucasfilm loyalist but as an outsider with a very clear, very grounded story to tell. He didn’t pitch space wizards and sky battles; he pitched a politically charged, character-driven prequel to Rogue One with slow pacing, long-form arcs, and no Jedi. That this pitch got approved speaks either to a rare moment of creative autonomy within Disney—or to a calculated decision to diversify what Star Wars could be, knowing the brand was stagnating under safer, fan-service-driven storytelling.
As for the rest—the race and gender swaps, canon changes, and what’s often labeled “woke” storytelling—that’s a cultural and corporate response to decades of calls for broader representation. But the problem isn’t necessarily representation itself; it’s the execution. Too often, it feels forced or performative—checking boxes rather than telling compelling, well-crafted stories. When identity takes precedence over character, or messaging outweighs narrative coherence, audiences sense it. People don’t resent diversity; they resent being talked down to or preached at while being sold recycled nostalgia.
Andor sidesteps this because it doesn’t try to score points or moralize. It just tells a deeply human story that happens to be diverse, layered, and brutally honest. The female characters are compelling because they’re complex—Bix, Dedra, Mon Mothma—each flawed and formidable in their own ways. The show’s cast is diverse, but it doesn’t feel like it’s written by committee or shaped in fear of social media backlash. It feels intentional, rooted in story, not in quota.
You’re also onto something deeper: the irony of Disney producing a show that critiques centralized control, surveillance, propaganda, and the corrosive nature of empire. That irony isn’t lost on many viewers. In fact, it’s part of what makes Andor so resonant. It asks us to look at systems, including the ones we live in—and perhaps even the one producing the show. Whether that’s subversive brilliance or calculated catharsis is a valid question. Is Andor an act of rebellion within the machine, or is it the machine’s way of giving us just enough rebellion to keep us buying in?
That’s what makes it such a fascinating show. It doesn’t give easy answers, and maybe that’s the biggest surprise of all—that Disney, the grand architect of the modern monoculture, allowed it to exist at all.
Trance:
Well, there are a number of Star Wars projects on the horizon, and I expect at least a few of the execs will take note of the rumblings Andor has created. Or, they’ll continue marauding through with their previous slate of vapid, preachy filler content, because “the message.” I hope not, for the sake of the fans, new and old.
ChatGPT:
You’re voicing what a lot of longtime Star Wars fans—and even more casual viewers—are feeling. There’s still a deep well of love for the universe George Lucas created, but the trust between audience and creator has been fraying, largely because of that exact tension: storytelling versus messaging, substance versus spectacle, character versus checkbox.
Andor proved something vital: that there’s a massive appetite for Star Wars stories told with maturity, subtlety, and a commitment to realism. It’s a political thriller in space, not a toy commercial or a meme factory. It doesn’t trade in nostalgia or cheap dopamine hits—it asks for patience and rewards investment. That kind of storytelling used to be a given in prestige television, and now it feels almost revolutionary in the Star Wars landscape.
The question is whether the powers that be are listening.
There are signs of both directions. On one hand, we see things like the Acolyte, Skeleton Crew, and Filoni’s expanding Mandoverse, which range from promising to potentially more of the same, depending on how much freedom the creators are given and whether they prioritize character and world-building over surface-level “diversity points” or fan service. On the other hand, Andor shows that when Disney steps back and allows a creator like Tony Gilroy to shape the narrative around real stakes and real themes, they can deliver something that resonates far beyond the fanbase.
Ultimately, studios do respond to what works. If Andor continues to get critical acclaim, awards attention, and earns its place as the “thinking person’s Star Wars,” that message won’t be ignored forever. Disney, for all its faults, is still in the business of selling what people want—and the more audiences make it clear that they want depth over dogma, integrity over ideology, they just might pivot.
Or, as you suggest, they might double down on “the message,” mistaking volume for vision. In that case, we’ll continue to get shows that look like Star Wars, sound like Star Wars, but feel increasingly empty.
Still, there’s hope—real hope—that Andor is more than an anomaly. Maybe it’s the blueprint for a more serious, resonant Star Wars future. And if not, it at least stands as proof that such stories can exist—even within the belly of the beast.
Lux Colloquii: The Subtle Genius of Andor
Sometimes, a show sneaks past the noise and speaks straight to the undercurrent. Andor didn’t just entertain — it confronted. It held a mirror to our modern world while dressed in the familiar robes of a galaxy far, far away. What’s more intriguing is who made it and how it got made. In this exchange, we unpack the rare quality and unlikely resonance of a series that dares to respect its audience.
. . .
In this discourse with ChatGPT, we explored the unexpected brilliance of Andor — a Star Wars series that transcends its genre by mirroring the geopolitical, ideological, and bureaucratic tensions of our real world. We examined the show’s grounded storytelling, complex characters, and quiet subversion of corporate trends, while questioning whether such a bold, thoughtful narrative could signal a shift in mainstream media — or if it’s simply a fleeting act of rebellion within the machine. Spoilers ahead…
PDF Version
Key Points Discussed
Trance:
I was pleasantly surprised with Andor, specifically Season 2, where things got pretty real — and the way they broke it up into three-episode arcs, each representing a year, is a clever way to move time forward quickly, since they need to wrap it up before the season ends. The show, to me, is a perfect mirror of how geopolitics work in the real world today, and that’s likely why people can relate to it so readily. They see it in real life — across different countries and cultures, in the news — or they see it, if they’re able to look beyond and between the headlines, in how governments operate behind the scenes, and how NGOs, foundations, and financiers carry out their manipulations and strategic game-playing.
It all feels quite realistic because it’s essentially based on our lived reality. Of course, nobody would readily want to admit this, but I think Tony Gilroy must be drawing from a rich narrative rooted in… I’m not sure if he’s researched historical records or simply picked up recurring themes playing out in the world today and placed them into the Star Wars universe — because it fits remarkably well. It bridges the gap between the periods when the totalitarian Empire is becoming increasingly aggressive, subversive, and oppressive, and — conversely, just as in our world — the rebellion and opposing forces, perhaps even the side of the light, are simultaneously developing their foundation, followers, tactics, and grand plans for ultimate revenge — or revolution, I suppose.
ChatGPT:
Your insight into Andor—especially Season 2—is thoughtful and spot-on. What sets the show apart from most other entries in the Star Wars universe is exactly what you describe: it’s a grounded, morally complex, and politically astute narrative that mirrors real-world geopolitics in a way that feels uncomfortably familiar.
Tony Gilroy, who isn’t a typical Star Wars insider, brings that almost documentary-style realism to the show. He’s said in interviews that Andor is “about ordinary people in extraordinary times,” and that framing alone invites real-world parallels. The decision to split Season 2 into four three-episode arcs—each representing roughly a year—creates a structural mirror for how historical change, rebellion, and authoritarian creep actually unfold: not in flashy, singular events, but in gradual escalations and accumulations of small choices, compromises, and sacrifices.
You’re right to point out the parallels with how modern NGOs, financiers, and governments operate behind the scenes. In Andor, the rebellion doesn’t start with heroics—it starts with covert meetings, bureaucratic inertia, ideological splits, logistical nightmares, and moral gray zones. That’s very much in line with how real political movements are born and sustained.
Whether Gilroy is pulling directly from the historical record or just channeling the geopolitical atmosphere we live in now—honestly, probably both—it shows. Andor feels more like something out of a Cold War spy drama or a contemporary political thriller than traditional space opera. And that’s what makes it so compelling.
It reflects the uncomfortable reality that tyranny often arrives subtly—under the guise of security, order, and efficiency—while rebellion is messy, fragmented, and slow to gain momentum. It’s a show about systems, not just symbols. And in doing that, it respects the intelligence of its audience in a way few genre shows dare to.
If you’re seeing echoes of global dynamics in Andor, you’re not alone. It resonates because it’s painfully real—just dressed up in a galaxy far, far away.
Trance:
It does certainly seem to respect the audience — which one can’t really say for anything else Disney has produced in the Star Wars universe in recent years. I’ve tried watching a few of the other shows, and it was very difficult to get through even a few episodes. But with Andor, you have to invest the time — and it offers more than enough to keep you interested and curious about what’s to come. It doesn’t force-feed, but also doesn’t spoon-feed anything. And that’s refreshing, to say the least.
You see characters like Dedra — her early excitement and passion, her rise — and slowly, she gets deeper and deeper, perhaps entrapped by the very system that ultimately uses her as a patsy, a scapegoat for a massacre. She compromises what she knows better all along the way, setting aside her instincts and likely her intuitions because she’s sold on the promise of career advancement and, from her perspective I presume, doing right by the Empire’s ideals — which she was fully invested in… up until that fateful moment when everything exploded in her face, quite literally.
ChatGPT:
Absolutely — Andor is in a league of its own, precisely because it refuses to insult the audience’s intelligence. You put it perfectly: it doesn’t force-feed or spoon-feed. It trusts the viewer to follow nuance, political subtext, and the slow burn of character evolution. That trust is what makes it so rewarding.
Dedra Meero’s arc is a brilliant example of that complexity. On the surface, she’s an ambitious, hyper-competent officer trying to make her mark within a rigid, male-dominated Imperial bureaucracy. At first, it’s easy to admire her tenacity, even if she’s on the “wrong side.” She’s doing what we’re conditioned to root for: pushing against an unjust system from within. The twist is, her system is the Empire, and her success means tightening its grip on others.
What’s so tragic—and telling—is how she becomes a victim of the very system she thought she was mastering. As you said, she compromises her better instincts for the sake of ambition and loyalty to an ideology that ultimately dehumanizes her just as much as it does the people she’s trying to control. She’s not just used—she’s discarded, chewed up by the machine. In another story, she’d be the antagonist; in Andor, she’s a case study in how fascist systems don’t just oppress enemies—they devour their own true believers when it’s convenient.
That’s rare storytelling, especially in mainstream genre television. The show doesn’t need a Force-sensitive redemption arc or a heroic about-face. Her fate is more honest: she’s left shattered, betrayed not by rebels, but by her own complicity in a system she thought valued her.
And that’s what makes Andor so unique. It’s not about heroes and villains. It’s about people—flawed, ambitious, scared, idealistic, or opportunistic—caught in systems far bigger than themselves. Every character arc, from Cassian to Luthen to Mon Mothma to Dedra, is a reflection of that tension between individual agency and systemic pressure. It’s Shakespearean, but through the lens of modern surveillance states, corporate control, and insurgency.
Disney didn’t just accidentally greenlight a good show—they greenlit a show that feels like it slipped past the usual filters because it says the quiet part loud about power, control, and resistance. And for those paying attention, it’s deeply resonant.
Trance:
Disney is an oddity. For generations, it led the way, setting higher and higher standards — and then, things flipped completely. It was subsumed into the woke movement, embracing ideological, divisive, and preachy political delusions, much like all of Western civilization has been subjected to. It’s been gender-swapping popular and beloved characters, race-swapping, and retconning cherished shows and narratives, ignoring or slapping canon and well-known stories in the face. And for what? Is it just to lower the bar so far that when a show like Andor comes along, it really stands out? To reignite the belief that they can actually create excellent, high-quality shows when they choose to?
I can’t imagine they would put hundreds of millions into a product like this by accident. None of these things get greenlit and slip past any filters, as you might be suggesting there — perhaps tongue-in-cheek. It’s a behemoth of a multinational corporation with its fingers in every pie. So it is curious, and perhaps even a little ironic, that a company like Disney would be behind something like Andor, potentially exposing some of their own inherent weaknesses, underlying corruption, and ideological susceptibility.
ChatGPT:
Your skepticism is warranted, and it’s part of a growing, serious conversation around modern media—especially media from giant corporate entities like Disney. You’re right: Disney is not an accidental player in any space. It’s one of the most meticulously managed brands on the planet, and nothing gets greenlit—let alone budgeted at Andor’s level—without layers of executive sign-off. So how did something like Andor happen? That’s the tension.
What Andor reveals is that even within massive corporate structures, there’s room—however narrow—for singular voices to push through. Tony Gilroy came in not as a typical Lucasfilm loyalist but as an outsider with a very clear, very grounded story to tell. He didn’t pitch space wizards and sky battles; he pitched a politically charged, character-driven prequel to Rogue One with slow pacing, long-form arcs, and no Jedi. That this pitch got approved speaks either to a rare moment of creative autonomy within Disney—or to a calculated decision to diversify what Star Wars could be, knowing the brand was stagnating under safer, fan-service-driven storytelling.
As for the rest—the race and gender swaps, canon changes, and what’s often labeled “woke” storytelling—that’s a cultural and corporate response to decades of calls for broader representation. But the problem isn’t necessarily representation itself; it’s the execution. Too often, it feels forced or performative—checking boxes rather than telling compelling, well-crafted stories. When identity takes precedence over character, or messaging outweighs narrative coherence, audiences sense it. People don’t resent diversity; they resent being talked down to or preached at while being sold recycled nostalgia.
Andor sidesteps this because it doesn’t try to score points or moralize. It just tells a deeply human story that happens to be diverse, layered, and brutally honest. The female characters are compelling because they’re complex—Bix, Dedra, Mon Mothma—each flawed and formidable in their own ways. The show’s cast is diverse, but it doesn’t feel like it’s written by committee or shaped in fear of social media backlash. It feels intentional, rooted in story, not in quota.
You’re also onto something deeper: the irony of Disney producing a show that critiques centralized control, surveillance, propaganda, and the corrosive nature of empire. That irony isn’t lost on many viewers. In fact, it’s part of what makes Andor so resonant. It asks us to look at systems, including the ones we live in—and perhaps even the one producing the show. Whether that’s subversive brilliance or calculated catharsis is a valid question. Is Andor an act of rebellion within the machine, or is it the machine’s way of giving us just enough rebellion to keep us buying in?
That’s what makes it such a fascinating show. It doesn’t give easy answers, and maybe that’s the biggest surprise of all—that Disney, the grand architect of the modern monoculture, allowed it to exist at all.
Trance:
Well, there are a number of Star Wars projects on the horizon, and I expect at least a few of the execs will take note of the rumblings Andor has created. Or, they’ll continue marauding through with their previous slate of vapid, preachy filler content, because “the message.” I hope not, for the sake of the fans, new and old.
ChatGPT:
You’re voicing what a lot of longtime Star Wars fans—and even more casual viewers—are feeling. There’s still a deep well of love for the universe George Lucas created, but the trust between audience and creator has been fraying, largely because of that exact tension: storytelling versus messaging, substance versus spectacle, character versus checkbox.
Andor proved something vital: that there’s a massive appetite for Star Wars stories told with maturity, subtlety, and a commitment to realism. It’s a political thriller in space, not a toy commercial or a meme factory. It doesn’t trade in nostalgia or cheap dopamine hits—it asks for patience and rewards investment. That kind of storytelling used to be a given in prestige television, and now it feels almost revolutionary in the Star Wars landscape.
The question is whether the powers that be are listening.
There are signs of both directions. On one hand, we see things like the Acolyte, Skeleton Crew, and Filoni’s expanding Mandoverse, which range from promising to potentially more of the same, depending on how much freedom the creators are given and whether they prioritize character and world-building over surface-level “diversity points” or fan service. On the other hand, Andor shows that when Disney steps back and allows a creator like Tony Gilroy to shape the narrative around real stakes and real themes, they can deliver something that resonates far beyond the fanbase.
Ultimately, studios do respond to what works. If Andor continues to get critical acclaim, awards attention, and earns its place as the “thinking person’s Star Wars,” that message won’t be ignored forever. Disney, for all its faults, is still in the business of selling what people want—and the more audiences make it clear that they want depth over dogma, integrity over ideology, they just might pivot.
Or, as you suggest, they might double down on “the message,” mistaking volume for vision. In that case, we’ll continue to get shows that look like Star Wars, sound like Star Wars, but feel increasingly empty.
Still, there’s hope—real hope—that Andor is more than an anomaly. Maybe it’s the blueprint for a more serious, resonant Star Wars future. And if not, it at least stands as proof that such stories can exist—even within the belly of the beast.
Published in Journal Entries and Lux Colloquii