In a year of Severance , The White Lotus , and The Pitt , it can be surprising to see a Star Wars spin-off counted among the best TV of the year. When explaining to my friends that yes, Disney invested a fortune in making a gritty spy thriller that’s explicitly and overtly anti-fascist, I certainly get some strange looks. It might be hard to accept that Star Wars does prestige television now, but it's true—and the show is arguably the best TV program this year, by both my standards and critical acclaim. Star Wars: Andor just won the Emmy for Outstanding Writing in a Drama, and was nominated for both Outstanding Drama and Outstanding Directing, in addition to four creative arts Emmy wins. But even though it made it big with fourteen Emmy nominations, the true depth and skill of the acting that allowed this series to shine has gone unappreciated—possibly due to both its genre nature, and revolutionary politics. While set in a galaxy far, far away, Andor’s exploration of fascism rings true in the here and now, encouraging the audience to wake up and fight. As a prequel to a prequel, Andor wasn’t expected to make a splash when Season 1 was released in 2022. But the space-opera spy thriller quickly became popular for its tight storytelling and impressive craftsmanship, bringing Star Wars to the table of prestige television. This past April, Andor returned with season two, perhaps even more stellar than before. Showrunner and producer Tony Gilroy trusts his audience, leaving details unspoken and some stories left satisfyingly open. Andor and its team take themselves seriously and trust their audience—and their commitment is clearly evident. From the story, to costumes, sound design, acting and onwards, the care for the project is obvious. Andor is a labor of love for good storytelling. With the Disney budget, the production value of Andor is insanely high—$645 million for its two seasons—and it shows. Filmed both on location (in the UK and Spain) and with huge practical sets, Andor has a tactility that many current science fiction projects lack. Its costumes feel real and worn — and unique to the culture of each planet. With a primarily synth score, and memorable diegetic music, the sound of Andor comes to life. And while production design takes Andor from good to great, the foundation of its quality is truly its writing. No dialogue is wasted, each line conveying just what it needs to and no more. While Andor is dressed in sci-fi trappings, the characters that inhabit its planets and spaceships are allowed to breathe, making them startlingly real. Each character, even the seemingly insignificant, are complex, genuine, people. The bad guys are human—though not quite sympathetic. The good guys are complicated—though we still root for them. Through its impressive ensemble cast, Andor comes alive. To some of you, this probably sounds all well and good—for the Star Wars fans, that is. But what allows Andor to break into the Emmys and other prestige TV circles, is its wide appeal outside the Star Wars universe, and its prescient social commentary. While a healthy understanding of the galactic political situation certainly helps, it is in no way completely necessary. Andor has wide appeal not only because it doesn’t rely on past lore, but because its messages and commentary ring true in today’s world. Tony Gilroy credits major revolutions of the 20th century as his inspiration, but it feels like a play-by-play of the present moment—and it was written over five years ago. It’s eerie watching on screen as military leaders calmly plan genocide over finger foods, undocumented refugees face sexual violence, and daughters turn back to the traditionalism that their mothers wished they escaped. Andor uses science fiction to reflect our own world—as Emmy-winning writer Dan Gilroy said, “it’s about ordinary people fighting impossible odds.” Fourteen Emmy nominations is certainly no loss, and Andor is the first Star Wars property to win a non-technical award. But while Andor was nominated for several big categories, they were absolutely snubbed in acting categories. Out of the Outstanding Drama nominees, Andor was the only one to have no actors nominated for the main acting categories. Its expansive cast gives us several noteworthy performance-performances that should be more than enough to earn an award, let alone a nomination. How can a show with such a positive critical reception not have any lead actors worth a nomination? Those actors are there, but the Academy doesn’t like to recognize science fiction—and there is also an obvious, and maybe unsavory to some, political tilt to Andor. Genevieve O’Reilly as Mon Mothma is the undeniable standout. O’Reilly reprises her role as a politician trapped between her public life in elite circles, and her secret commitment to the Rebellion—all the while struggling with the sacrifices her rebellion asks of her family. Her fear and regret and courage leap off the screen, and the subtlety with which she portrays both Mon Mothma’s internal sadness is truly remarkable. While O’Reilly’s performance of episode nine’s climactic monologue (the Emmy winning episode in question) is impressive, her more subtle moments shine all the more, creating a woman with two faces and two lives. O’Reilly captures the public and private, courageous and fearful, in the role of the stately politician. By all metrics, Genevieve O’Reilly is more than worthy of an Emmy nomination, and an award. So why was she passed over? Awards shows like the Emmys have a history of disregarding “genre” media: fantasy, sci-fi, and horror receive far less recognition. So the snub likely comes down to the fact that O’Reilly plays a fictional senator named “Mon Mothma” in what is effectively a space opera. It sounds ridiculous and fantastical—even as she presents a character deeply human. Science fiction—and particularly Star Wars —is simply not “real” enough to be taken seriously, though what could be more serious than fighting fascism? But beyond this obvious conclusion, we would be remiss to ignore the political angle of the snub. Andor , and especially O’Reilly’s performance, is unflinching in its political commentary. The Academy simply cannot pretend to be silent on the genocide in Gaza if it recognizes Genevieve O’Reilly, whose character’s most climactic and impressive moment includes a condemnation of a massacre masked as self-defense: “The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil......what happened yesterday on Ghorman was unprovoked genocide! Yes! Genocide! And that truth has been exiled from this chamber!” She is met with jeers. To platform this speech would create an untenable level of cognitive dissonance. And O’Reilly was hardly the only deserving actor. Other notable performances include Diego Luna, Denise Gough, and the duo of Stellan Skarsgård and Elizabeth Dulau. Their performances are skilled, distinctive, and unbelievably moving. But spies in space don’t typically warrant award recognition—especially not spies whose stories and actors have the courage to speak out. In this way, Andor is much like its own characters. It is not Luke and Han, awarded medals and a celebration for their victory in A New Hope . Andor is Luthen Rael, Lonni Jung, and the titular Cassian Andor—rebels that sacrificed everything, even knowing their work would be anonymous. Its brilliance may not be honored with medals and trophies, but its legacy will last far longer. The team’s passion is clear to the audience—and not their passion for Star Wars, but rather a passion for good storytelling. The Academy might not recognize the value of “genre” media, but science fiction and fantasy have been shining a mirror into our world for as long as we have been telling stories. Andor brings the power of science fiction to the forefront, proving that genre media can and does have the emotional weight needed to be a great drama with prescient commentary in our world. And the stories we see in Andor will be ones that we remember and go back to again and again. Molly Meehan is a junior in the College studying Biology and English. She loves all things sci-fi and fantasy, and is proud to be the resident “genre” reader.