#andorversary

Last scene of Perrin in the car. What do you think about it? If your mind, how about his reaction to Mon's speech in s2e9? Thank you.

Thanks for the Ask, Anon!

Perrin is a fascinating character and I will admit that in season 1 I kind of wrote him off as fairly shallow: a hedonistic man who has drifted into indolence and apathy over the years and who has long ago fallen out of love with his wife - if, indeed, they were ever in love at all. The arranged marriage seemed as much of a trap as every other aspect of Mon’s superficially privileged life, to the extent that being stuck with this vapid man was yet another daily anxiety to negotiate.

Season 2 changed that for me, and it’s interesting that Tony Gilroy felt that he needed to make Perrin more sympathetic as viewers were unexpectedly hostile in s1. He even wondered if he had gone too far the other way! But for me, the balance is something he got just right, and it’s why I think this final shot of Perrin is so poignant.

There were a few plot ideas that didn’t make it into the final version including two that are most relevant here. One is the idea mooted at an early stage that Perrin knew what Mon was doing all along and had quietly supported her from behind the scenes all this time. There was going to be a goodbye scene set on Chandrila, with Cassian taking Mon there. Frankly, I’m glad this idea was scrapped. The other idea was that Sculdun was going to be the owner of a broadcasting network, responsible for letting Mon’s speech go loud. In other words, he was also to have been sympathetic to the cause. Again, I’m glad this idea was scrapped.

The reason I’m really happy with this being the final scene of Perrin is that those two interpretations are still there if you want to head-canon them. Sculdun’s wife being his new mistress (?) might suggest that Sculdun has been arrested, for example. Even without that plot idea it’s not hard to imagine the ISB investigating Mon’s finances with fresh rigour and discovering his role. But the shot might likewise suggest that Perrin lied about his involvement in order to save his own skin. After all, the Empire has apparently left him alone. Or maybe he simply had no knowledge of what his wife was up to and could legitimately say that he had no idea what was going on all those years. There are so many possible angles on this and I love that it’s kept open. So in terms of how he would react to Mon’s speech, I guess that’s all up for grabs too. Total surprise? Or something he felt has been brewing for a while? Probably the former, but there’s still room for the latter.

But the most important thing for me is not so much the plot angle as the atmosphere and visual language of this scene. We’ve seen Perrin in the car before, but always with Mon. Sitting far apart in season 1, closer together in season 2. We’ve also had a really powerful monologue from him: a hedonistic world view but one with hints of great pain beneath the surface. A life that has been meaningless except for senstations. “Joy” for Perrin perhaps being reduced to physical pleasures that over time become stale and repetitive. He’s always been a heavy drinker, but has seemingly controlled it in a way that the “weak” Tay never did. Except now he seems tired, dishevelled, slumped. Even the earrings are fascinating. Is this his version of rebellion, in this past year?!

I see him as a tragic figure here, whether or not he deserves it. Not in a grand or dramatic way: more that his life had potential and he never realised it, in either sense. “One forgets to savour the familiar” Mon once said, ostensibly regarding the view from the Embassy window, but on that line she looked meaningfully at Perrin. I wonder if he remembers that.

In short, I think Perrin really misses his wife. They might not have been in love but you don’t spend decades with somebody and have a child together without developing some form of strong companionship. Familiarity. Love, of a pragmatic kind - the Ancients literally had the word Pragma for the kind of love that develops in arranged marriages. For all his faults, Perrin is part of the family that Mon has sacrificed; again, in both senses of giving them up and doing ruthless things to them for the greater good. Mon is shown in this montage at this same time, accepting her new life. At least she still has Vel. She will adapt because she has found purpose. She believes in something. Cassian will die soon, but he has a purpose. The implication is that a good death is better than a long and empty life.

I think Perrin’s greatest tragedy, and I feel it strongly in this scene, is that he found nothing to believe in. So here he is, “savouring the familiar”: physical pleasures. I think he has given up trying to “reach past this constant cloud of sadness”. This is all he has left to look forward to: a life without purpose, without his life-long companion. In the context of all these bittersweet moments in this superb “Past-Present-Future” final montage, in contrast to most of the others Perrin has no implied future, either tragic or hopeful, beyond more of… exactly this.

(This is such a fun ask series, thank you for doing it!)

Thank you for the Ask! 


I think it’s a particularly telling sign that this scene occurs right in the middle of the incredible tension and excitement of the Narkina 5 breakout, but that it’s so brilliant and riveting that not for one moment do I want to cut back to the events there.

Mon is desperate and Davo Sculdun clearly knows that already. We don’t know exactly what Tay Kolma told him but the very fact that this Chandrilan Senator is wanting to do business with him at all is going to tell Sculdun a lot. I’m intrigued, in retrospect, by the fact that Mon is upset that Tay approached Sculdun without her permission and I wonder if that’s a little warning sign about how events unfold in season 2, where she was trying to convince herself that Tay “wouldn’t dare” approach Sculdun. Anyway, the point is that although Sculdun is a guest in her Embassy home he acts immediately as if he is the one with all the power. Which he is.

The dialogue in this scene (Beau Willimon) is another mini-masterpiece of subtext. At first, it’s polite small talk: they discuss the decor of the Embassy and Sculdun is already making it clear that he’s well aware that Mon is trapped: “Our choices for change are limited” she says, and I wonder if she’s aware there of the irony of her words because they are soon to come back to haunt her with something Sculdun will say that directly mirrors them. Davo dismisses the opulance of the Embassy - that might intimidate other visitors - with the casual “It’s a bit old, isn’t it. I like the new!” (all while slouching very comfortably on the seating) and emphasises that “one of the indulgences of great wealth is freedom from other people’s opinions”. Mon recognises the statement of power that this is: “You’ve made your point”. Davo says he appreciates her directness and clarity but adds the rather sinister “I always get to thinking, what’s around the corner?”

I’m always intrigued by the segue between the discussion of Perrin’s gambling habit (“I take it that is not a corner we’ll be turning in this conversation”/“It is not!”) and Sculdun bringing up the “clarity of the Chandrilan marriage”. His continuation of the theme of clarity and directness is gradually leading up to the big reveal and its - I’m going to say it - foregone conclusion. Because although she’s sitting there determined to be as strong as possible in this conversation Mon is genuinely taken aback by the ultimate revelation. I think there are many occasions when Mon appears to be shocked by exactly what the Rebellion requires of her but in reality is in some way already aware of the truth. It’s debatable, but I think that in contrast she genuinely is shocked here and did not see this one coming, despite the mention of the clarity of Chandrilan marriages. “Boundaries can be liberating,” says Sculdun in support of them and there’s a whole other essay there about what this has meant for Mon over the years and into the future, as well as for Leida.

Sculdun then launches into a full and persuasive description of exactly what Mon wants: the ability to regularly move some of her family fortune into a charitable fund without Imperial scrutiny. He makes it sound perfectly reasonable and as if he is doing her a favour. He also paints it in a way that makes it sound a little rebellious… all designed to make her feel better about doing business with a “thug”. Mon is rightly suspicious and insists that she pay him, in some way, so as not to owe any favours. She of all people knows that nothing of this nature ever comes for free.

Then comes the revelation: “I have a fourteen year old son. I’d like to bring him with me.” And it’s “just” for an introduction. But they both know the truth. And Sculdun, once again, sums it up perfectly: “Our position sometimes makes decisions for us, don’t you find, Senator?” What a brilliant line. The double meanings resonate not just through this scene (an immediate echo of “our choices for change are limited”) but Mon’s entire story. And not just Mon: circumstances forcing choices is a major theme of the whole series.

It’s Sculdun’s checkmate move and Mon knows it and he knows she knows it. “I’m not thinking about it,” she snaps, to which he calmly says “That’s the first untrue thing you’ve said.” I just love that because the entire conversation was based around skirting around the truth but this is the first open falsehood. Sculdun knows he’s won. Itself tying back to that other major theme of the series highlighted in this scene: gambling. “They make a game of it, and we play”.

Thanks for the Ask!

What a revealing little scene this is. For context: Kleya has just told Luthen the terrible news that Davo Sculdun has discovered that one of the pieces in his private antiquities collection is a forgery and has ordered that all the other pieces be re-appraised… including the Tinian Codex, which contains their microphone. It is imperative that they remove this piece before this happens, or their entire operation will be uncovered.

You can see how Kleya has been putting off telling Luthen for a little while: she first discovered all this via monitoring all their overnight recordings at the start of the episode and can be seen privately listening to it herself a little later. She clearly knows she has to tell him but is really dreading having to. It’s as if she can already tell what his reaction is going to be.

There was a hint of this a few years earlier, in their season 1 scenes. Kleya catches Luthen listening for any news from Aldhani the night before the heist and - superficially, rather coldly - tells him there’s nothing he can do and that he should go to bed. Later, he wants to answer Bix’s radio signal from Imperial occupied Ferrix and Kleya has to tell him that he’s not thinking straight: “You’re slipping!” she says, angrily. “I need you to wake up, there’s a lot to do.” It was the first behind the curtain glimpse of the dynamic that very much seems to put Kleya as the one keeping control of this whole operation: supplying not only Luthen’s motive to keep going but to push him, and to guide him - to keep a rational control over his emotions. Because despite how much he might prefer it otherwise, Luthen is a very emotional man and Kleya also has a lot of emotion; largely pent up and also something she probably sees as a nuisance or inconvenience, but the trouble is that they are both very human and they have complicated feelings about and for each other.

So Kleya’s anger in this scene in 2.05 - snapping “You’re becoming insufferable!” when Luthen appears to be blaming her for insisting the micophone be planted in the first place, and finally “Are you DONE?!” are really telling. She’s angry because she’s upset. More specifically, I think she’s really frightened. And not just frightened of their operation being exposed. I think she’s frightened of what’s happening to Luthen. She hates seeing him crack like this, when not just his emotions but his age shows through. He has probably never been quite this explicit before: “I can’t keep track anymore!.. We’re drowning!..” It’s what Tony Gilroy identifies as the pressure of time but also as the inevitable consequence of the Rebellion growing up, expanding, and ‘flying away’ from a figure he compares with a CO of a startup company originally run from his garage and then lost and overcome when it goes large.

So Kleya’s fear is really understandable. If Luthen falls apart, it’s like the only person she truly has in her life acknowledging weakness, and for all its pain theirs is her most important relationship. It reminds me of the common experience of those of us with ageing parents: the moments when we see the authority figures we felt safe with, for all their faults, starting to decline. Kleya’s feelings about Luthen are hugely more complex than simple hate for what he did to her family, but there’s some ‘love that has grown around the hate’ for sure. She’s seeing a glimpse of a future without him and I think that’s an existential fear for her.

And as Maarva Andor so beautifully put it, one of the most obvious ways of showing love for someone is worrying about them. Kleya has to take control here, compel Luthen to act and to focus but he will have to trust her to get the job of extracting the microphone done. This is a strangely moving scene for showing that they both are experiencing love, despite their best efforts to sacrifice it. There’s nothing they can do about that.