There was plenty to applaud IMO, including a great deal of technical excellence and artistry from the crew — e.g. consistently orienting the viewer to a local’s perspective by telegraphing sense of place using a combination of spatial environment and ambient foley, distinctive color palettes, musical motifs, and noticeably auterist cinematic dialect. But what impressed me most of all was this…
The screenwriters of Andor were the first to resist the urge to hand-wave or misconstrue the promise of Anakin’s “balance” as the zenith in the saga, and what his role suggested of the old republic. Rather than gloss over these questions (in favor of some Arthurian fable of grandeur lost and found) or attempt to manufacture continuity with tedious factional minutiae (e.g. trade federations, Naboo sovereignty) or droll red herrings (midi-chlorians, prodigious talent, etc), they instead explored cyclical decay in an exploitative society from the perspective of the people in it.
In that, we recognize a pathology that is eerily familiar and credible (Perrin, Kay), how such a society cultivates fear on all sides (Syril, Lonni), and how the disease of fear progresses as Yoda described to anger, hate, and suffering (Dedra, Skeen). The screenwriters even highlight the threads of compromise in the fabric of an otherwise just cause (Luthen, Mon Mothma). Only the oppressed appear blameless (Maarva, Kassa) and the truest heroes are those who reject the fascist imperative and determine their own path, whatever the cost (Cassian, Bix, Vel, Cinta, Karis).
By contrast, every other SW film I’ve seen preferred the far easier narrative of good and evil, light and dark, usually with clear winners and losers.
Andor felt true to the human condition, and had stronger pathos as a result.