Make It Stop

Greetings from Lithuania.

"Make It Stop", a tenth episode of season 2 was as great as the last few episode. "Andor" is killing in a quality in a second half of the season. The slow set up has finished, now every episode is a payoff. And its a great payoff - no spoilers. This episode and its ending was probably the most sad one. I liked the storytelling, screenplay, acting and directing in here very much - they are all excellent. In terms of writing, "Andor" is the best thing Star Wars have ever had, and probably will never have again.

Overall, with only two episodes left in the series, i looking forward to see how it all ends up, or to be more precise - how everything fells into places.

Just when I thought this show couldn't get any better - it did. I had a feeling some characters would get their moment to shine, but I never could have imagined it would unfold in such a bittersweet, powerful way. Here I am, stunned and overwhelmed with emotions. It just couldn't get any better than this!!!

What made this episode so remarkable is how effortlessly it balanced closure with surprise. The writing is thoughtful which has been the case this entire season, giving this arcs the emotional payoff it deserves without feeling forced. Every scene feels intentional, every line delivered with weight. There's a quiet brilliance in how joy and sorrow coexist here - it lingers with you, like the final notes of a haunting melody. This is the kind of storytelling that stays with you long after the credits roll.

An episode that was no less than phenomenal that didn't even need Cassian to work so effectively and appropriately. The scene between Daedra and Lothan is no less than brilliant, and the action and tension here kicks in so quickly without giving us a moment to breathe. It's crazy that this episode was based on only three central characters from the series, and still managed to be one of the best in it. The use of flashbacks this time, unlike the opening of the series where it worked less well in my opinion, does a very significant service to the plot and narrative, and especially to the character of Kleya, who stole the show in this episode and provided an unforgettable show. It's funny to say this every week, but Andor deserves all the superlatives, all the wins that can be given to it at the Emmys, and especially to be recognized as the best content we've seen in recent years.

Honestly, Star Wars by Disney has no right being this good. It almost feels like the attention to details, story and cinematic experience is taken from some very high-end kino and put into a major name brand show. By all accounts anything branded Star Wars should have been more like Marvel films - a ton of action, cheapskate humor every minute or so, nothing deeper than skin level. But this was so good it almost feels inappropriate. When you're used to McDonalds hollywood meals and you're suddenly given a michelin star Paris restaurant experience, it does feel baffling. It's fascinating that this came to be, and at the same time it's sad because that's probably as good as it is ever going to get in Star Wars. A one-time experience like true love, it is to be cherished and let go.

This show is an anomaly - a beautiful flower growing amongst some radioactive ruin which is Disney. It baffles the mind for how it came to be. A high you will never get again, no matter how you chase it.

One of the defining strengths of the original "Star Wars" trilogy was its ability to evoke deep emotional investment in even the most peripheral characters. Take, for instance, Biggs Darklighter, who is introduced as a friend of Luke Skywalker late in the first film. His death, despite its brevity and limited screen time, resonates profoundly because of the emotional weight carried by that earlier scene. This effect was achieved through deceptively simple storytelling techniques. "Andor" has, whether through adaptation or a similar approach, employed a comparable method to cultivate attachment to its extensive ensemble of characters. Each one feels like a protagonist in their own right, making their fates all the more poignant. Tony Gilroy is not a filmmaker who hesitates to remove characters when their narrative arcs have concluded, nor does he feel compelled to prolong a character's presence beyond what is necessary for the story's progression. It was always apparent that the final episodes of "Andor" would involve significant losses, but the degree of emotional attachment viewers would develop toward these characters was perhaps less predictable. This particular episode, which leads into the concluding trio, centers on Luthen and Kleya, offering a tribute to their partnership while narrating the journey that shaped them into the leaders they have become. It is a deeply tragic tale, one that not only capitalizes on the emotional investment in these characters but also dedicates an entire episode to recontextualizing everything we thought we knew about them.

Set one year after the events on Ghorman, this episode firmly places us in the endgame, as the Empire's covert project begins to surface through rebel intelligence. The atmosphere unmistakably conveys the sense of impending doom, underscored by a pervasive sense of dread that permeates both the episode and its narrative. The overarching storyline feels like a race against time, and, in a literal sense, this episode embodies that urgency without hesitation. It accelerates from the outset, quickly immersing the audience in its poignant and emotionally charged narrative.

The episode not only deepens the relationship between Kleya and Luthen, but it recontextualizes it, offering a fuller understanding of their shared history and the evolution of their partnership. This exploration is not merely a means of filling in narrative gaps; rather, it enhances the emotional weight of both the episode and its central mission. Their bond transcends mere professional collaboration-they are not only partners, but also friends, and in many ways, family, in all its complexity and imperfection. This development not only serves as a compelling anchor for the episode, but also culminates in a devastating final sequence that is sure to evoke a powerful emotional response from the audience.

While the episode certainly features its share of action, it is far from mindless. The focus is not on the indiscriminate destruction of life, but rather on acts of bravery in the face of overwhelming opposition. Explosions and gunfire punctuate the narrative, yet these moments are underscored by the emotional gravity of a character on a mission, confronting insurmountable odds. This balance of action and emotional depth encapsulates not only the core of this particular episode but also the spirit of the entire series. While other episodes may possess a more bombastic tone or grander scope, the action in this installment stands as perhaps the finest demonstration of what the show fundamentally seeks to convey.

Central to the episode's success are the performances, with Elizabeth Dulau's portrayal of Kleya standing out as the most remarkable. While her character has previously maintained a stoic demeanor, offering little in terms of emotional expression, this episode allows Dulau to reveal a different side of Kleya. She becomes the emotional core of the narrative, delivering several powerful moments of subdued devastation and yearning. Dulau's performance is nothing short of captivating; she not only shares palpable chemistry with Stellan Skarsgård in their scenes together but also commands every second of screen time, particularly in the poignant final moments of the episode.

"Make It Stop" is a profoundly emotional hour of the series, demonstrating the exceptional power the show holds over its audience through its characters. It elicits genuine emotional responses while maintaining a compelling narrative momentum, highlighting the strength of exemplary writing and character development.