Andor asks, "What do we sacrifice for freedom?"
According to Ep. 10, nothing short of everything.
The Short Take:
This episode concludes the chilling, thrilling Narkina 5 arc, and in the process reveals the philosophical heartbeat of the entire series. Contains one of the best monologues I’ve ever heard.
[SPOILER WARNING: There’s only one way out of this review if you want to avoid spoilers, and it’s here.]
The Long Take:
How much would you sacrifice for freedom?
That’s the question this episode asks all of its characters, in all its scenes. Cassian asks Kino to risk his life to lead a massive prison break. Classy thug banker Devo Sculdin asks Mon Mothma to offer up her own daughter, Leida, as payment for a loan the Rebellion needs. We learn that one of Dedra’s coworkers at the ISB, Lonni Jung, missed the birth of his daughter because he’s actually Luthen’s mole.
Andor declares its answer to the question with Luthen’s jaw-dropping, hold your breath, or, as Joanna Robinson vividly described on Twitter, face-melting monologue at the end of this episode. I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record in my praise of the writing in this series, but, as a word nerd, I cannot help but linger on how dazzling the dialogue in every episode of Andor has been.
And this one’s screenplay just blows the roof off of the streaming series house, especially with its conclusion, in which Luthen gives what could possibly be the coldest yet most beautiful pep talk in Star Wars history. After Lonni says that he wants out of the spy game because what he sacrifices daily is too great, he bitterly asks Luthen, “What do you sacrifice?” Luthen gives a crushing response (and yes, I am going to make you read the entire speech because it is THAT GOOD):
Calm. Kindness. Kinship. Love. I’ve given up all chance at inner peace. I’ve made my mind a sunless space. I share my dreams with ghosts. I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago for which there’s only one conclusion. I’m damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight. They’ve set me on a path from which there is no escape. I yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost and by the time I look down there’s no longer any ground beneath my feet. What is my sacrifice? I’m condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else’s future. I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude. So what do I sacrifice? EVERYTHING.
The most recognizable item on the resume of writer of this episode, Beau Willimon, is Netflix’s House of Cards, for which he was the showrunner. But I think what’s more telling from his biography is that he’s written as many stage plays as screenplays. Luthen’s monologue feels like one that doesn’t need anything other than dimmed lights and a single spotlight because you can simply hang on the words. The rhythm and pacing is perfect. Willimon uses ample parallel syntax (sentence structure), like my anger/my ego followed by my unwillingness to yield/my eagerness to fight. For reference, I’ve italicized the phrases that seem to be a part of parallel syntax. I’m also a fan of the light-based imagery sprinkled throughout. Luthen’s mind is a “sunless space” yet he makes it that way so he might “make a sunrise.” He describes burning his life and decency and yet says he’ll never see “the light of gratitude.” Luthen dwells in darkness and fire now, but does so in order to make more serene light, like a sunrise, possible.
Crucially, Willimon punctuates the parallel structures and sunlight references with declarative lines that bring the thematic significance of the monologue into focus. I’ve bolded the lines that fall into this category, and in them all I can see the tragedy of Luthen. He’s damned, unmoored, and acknowledges that he will never get any positive affirmation in the end; he will surely die before all his efforts, all his sacrifice, amount to anything. The monologue also circles back to Lonni’s original question twice, and each time it becomes more and more apparent how thoughtless and absurd that question really is.
Stellan Skarsgard’s delivery of these words is masterful, of course. He understands the rhetorical design of what Willimon has written. He lilts and pauses in all the right places, and he builds an intensity, crescendoing into the final bellow of “Everything.” The way that the one word — everything — echoes while the camera holds on Skarsgard’s face is absolutely chilling. In fact, the camera doesn’t get in close until the monologue begins. When Luthen and Lonni are going back and forth, we mostly get medium shots of Luthen (framed a little bit below his waist); then when Lonni asks him what he has sacrificed, the camera holds and Luthen walks into the shot until he turns it into a close-up on his face. Only then does he start the monologue. This clever direction establishes an impactful shift in intensity — it amps up Luthen’s aggression and bitterness, but also signals intimacy and vulnerability as he opens up to Lonni and the audience.
The content of Luthen’s mic drop monologue feels like the the series’ own manifesto, the theoretical framework through which to view all the other characters’ storylines. What are you willing to sacrifice for the “sunrise that [you] know [you’ll] never see”? This question pulls other characters into Luthen’s orbit and gives the series thematic glue. He’s willing to sacrifice everything knowing that he won’t see the end. That makes everyone else less committed to the cause (and therefore wrong?). This makes sense, as Dedra has named him Axis; in this moment, at least, it seems as if the entire series rotates around him and his point of view.
What this says about Cassian Andor, after whom the show has been named, is debatable. I’ve seen some say that Andor is the least interesting character in Andor and acts more as a facilitator for all these other characters than a traditional protagonist. I might call him Axis Jr. because he does lead like Luthen, but specifically by boosting those around him and helping them reach their potential. He gives Taga credit for his own idea to switch up the table order during last week’s episode, and here we see him coaching Kino during the prison break. He doesn’t get on that loudspeaker; he helps Kino do so. When Kino falters, Cassian says, “Is that the best you’ve got?” and that propels Kino into a moment of greatness. His speech also floored me. It has fewer flourishes than Luthen’s, but it’s beauty lies in the slow and steady build of short, declarative sentences. It’s a slow burn yet rousing call to action.
Cassian hyping up Kino is just one in a series of pep talks, come to think of it. In this episode, we see Cassian convincing Kino to believe in their escape plan and then later believe in himself when Cassian says that Kino has to be the one to speak to all the other inmates. As I mentioned earlier, Luthen gives Lonni a much less supportive but perhaps equally effective pep talk to Lonni when he doesn’t think he can keep going. Lonni, by the way, very noticeably sweats during the entire conversation. What do we think that’s about? Is he afraid of Luthen? Ashamed that he can’t take it anymore? Worried he’ll get caught by the Empire? Perhaps Andor also makes an argument about what it means to lead. A leader doesn’t necessarily take charge all the time, but they often instead push people around them to be brave; they push their followers through moments of self-doubt so they can all get the job done. What Lonni never gets to see, though, is that — as we’ve seen in past episodes — even Luthen needs a little talking to sometimes. He too doubts himself and doubts what he’s doing, and needs Kleya to snap him out of it or berate him into steeling himself.
If we ask what Kino sacrifices for the freedom of the 5,000 men on Narkina 5, the likely answer is his own life. When he first tells the other men on his cell block that they’re going to try to escape that day, he says that because he now knows none of them are ever getting out, he plans to “assume I’m dead already and go from there.” He’s already accepted that his life may be forfeit in this endeavor, but that will still be worth it if some of them can make it out alive. This echoes Luthen’s statement about the sunrise he’ll never see. He knows many of them, including himself, may not make it through to the end, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try.
That’s not even half of the gut punch of Kino’s arc in this episode. He rallies thousands of men, he makes it all happen, he and Cassian run out like the rest of them, but then he stops dead in his tracks. When Cassian notices (He’s so observant! Another one of his winning qualities.) that something is wrong, Kino says, “I can’t swim.” He can’t escape with the fellow inmates he helped save. Some of them will live to see the sunrise of freedom, but he likely never will. I gushed about Andy Serkis so much last week that I won’t say too much about his performance here, but he broke my heart in this scene. Diego Luna’s brilliant acting combined the blocking of the scene heightens this tragedy even more. I got the sense from the look Cassian gives that he was going to try to help Kino figure out what to do, until one of the many men understandably focused on jumping into the water knocks him overboard.
Image Credit: Den of Geek
This episode leaves us in the dark as to whether or not Kino survives. We don’t see him die, and it is possible that he may have found some other method of escape. My friend Ben (@zenkenobi) brought to my attention that in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Tony Gilroy was rather coy when asked about Kino, implying that we might see him again. As I discussed in my review last week, I have become very attached to this character and would love for him to survive. But I think that a tragic end reinforces Luthen’s monologue in a way that makes his death seem logical from a storytelling perspective. So I’m not getting my hopes up.
The stickier question about Kino is whether or not he knew this would happen the whole time — knew when he agreed to go along with Cassian’s plan that he would never actually be able to leave the prison surrounded by water. I initially interpreted Kino’s reaction to the sudden drop-off as a surprise, like he wasn’t expecting to have to swim to get away. But many other critics and fans online think that Kino must have known that the prison facility was in the middle of an ocean and therefore did all that he did entirely for the greater good because he knew all along that he could not personally benefit from any escape attempts. I can see how this might be the case, but I think his arc carries more weight if, as Ben also says, his motivation is “resistance” and overthrowing the Empire rather than “escape.” Then again, his knowing his fate all along may align more with the “sunrise I know I’ll never see” line from Luthen’s monologue. Please feel free to share your take on Kino and what happens to him in the comments section!
The character in this episode least willing to sacrifice anything in the name of freedom is Mon Mothma, who finds herself at a personal ethical crossroads. Davo Sculdun, who has no need for a fee but wishes to use Mon Mothma’s family as a way to climb the Chandrilan social ladder, asks that in exchange for the loan and financial discretion, she invite him and his teenaged son back so that he might meet her teenaged daughter. Mon Mothma (very reasonably) seems unwilling to sacrifice her own daughter for the cause, unwilling to “burn [her] own decency,” as Luthen says he has. Only an episode ago she seemed incredibly scandalized at the thought of even meeting with Davo because he has such an unsavory reputation. In contrast to Luthen yet again, she has yet to allowed herself to “use the tools of [her] enemy to defeat them.” Will she, too, decide to “burn [her] life to make a sunrise that [she know she’ll] never see?” Is she capable of betraying her own flesh and blood as a means to an end?
If so, does Luthen’s speech foreshadow a turn in which she eventually agrees to Sculdun’s terms? Or will she continue to serve as a counterpoint to his no matter the cost approach? One of the many, many things I love about this show is its presentation of all the Rebel factions, each with their own political philosophy and principles. So I’m genuinely torn about not only which scenario I think we’ll get, but which I’d rather see. I’d optimistically like to think that if anyone can find another way to fight the good fight while maintaining her integrity, it’s my queen, Mon Mothma. (I’m going to be so wrong, though. I’m in denial big time here.)
If we do maintain a dichotomy between Luthen and Mon Mothma, I have to acknowledge that class privilege may be a problematic factor here. Granted, we don’t really know what Luthen’s backstory is — if he just pretends to be a ritzy antiquities dealer or if he, like Mon Mothma, actually does come from money and status. But if Mon Mothma is the only character who never gets her hands dirty and she’s also the only one who can afford not to, then that better be a critique of elitism rather than sainthood by way of elitism. It’s easier for Mon Mothma to clutch her pearls because she can go back to a life of comfort. Maybe I just talked myself into speculating that Mon Mothma has to go through with the deal and sabotage her already tenuous relationship with Leida.
Either way, Mon Mothma is overdue for her damn-bursting flood moment, similar to what the men on Narkina 5 just experienced. I never would have thought of Andor as especially figurative because it is relatively grounded for a Star Wars story. But so many scenes throughout this episode dripped with metaphor. With Cassian’s assistance, one lone water pipe bursts, and the water from that point onward cannot be stopped. It keeps flooding and spreading, and soon it’s completely taken over. This stunningly and starkly symbolizes the inmates no longer tolerating their imprisonment. The prison break starts with just one room in one level overtaking the guards and then the escape attempt spreads at a continuously accelerating rate. They flood the hallways just as the waters do; it was thrilling to see them realize their strength in numbers and coming together chanting, “One way out! One way out! One way out!” I also thought it was ironic and poetic that the very element that powers the entire facility — water — is exactly what brings about its downfall because it is the one thing that can break the electric floor. The visual poetry of the sequence climaxes with a bird’s eye view of Narkina 5, revealing that the prison facility was in fact in the shape of the Imperial crest. A gorgeously composed image that elegantly invokes Star Wars iconography.
Between the metaphors, the imagery, and the moving syntactical rhythms or spellbinding turns of phrase in Luthen’s monologue, I would deem this episode the most poetic of the season so far, and potentially one of the more poetic episodes of television I’ve ever seen. I cannot wait to see what the two-part finale will bring, and what new heights to which it can soar (not swim).
I noticed what Tony said about Kino too 😁 I doubt he makes it past the end of the season, but he’ll do as much damage as possible on his way out.