Editor’s note: The below contains spoilers for Andor Season 2 Episode 8.Love him, detest him, or just enjoy his comedic interludes, Syril Karn (Kyle Soller) is a divisive figure within and outsideAndor’s universe. A fan-favorite villain, his laser-focused fixation on Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) in Season 1 never quite hits the notes audiences expect from the Javert archetype — i.e., the frenzied police chief fromLes Misérableswhose conveniently simplistic worldview is destined to self-implode. Handing that zealotry to an awkward, overeager young man who decorates his childhood bedroom with Stormtrooper figurines and eats cereal with an unrivaled level of mournful ceremonynudges Syril away from the stylish connivers we associate withStar Warsvillainsand into a realm that’s somewhere between compelling and annoying. Instead of theinsidious Emperor Palpatineor Darth Maul, whocontinues to corner the marketon revenge,Andor’s main antagonist is a mediocre dreamer who uses ambition to compensate for his insecurities (including his embarrassingly obvious need for validation).
This subversive approach is no surprise, arriving as it does from series creator and showrunnerTony Gilroy.Cassian’s own nuance demands anintricately craftedextremist foil, and Syril fulfills that function. If Cassian spends the majority of his self-titled series fleeing his future as a sacrificial hero, then Syril,a former security inspector, passionately believes in rules, no matter how often his chances of enforcing said ideals slip through his fingers. My personal opinion on Syril proved more elusive. I wavered throughout Season 1 before finally landing on a cocktail of amused, disquieted, and fascinated. Without condoning his deplorable culpability and inexcusable gullibility, I believe in the odd sincerity powering his intentions, as well as his adoration for Dedra Meero (Denise Gough) —a character-illuminating relationshipwith an inexplicable hold over my heart.
AndorSeason 2, Episode 8, written byDan GIlroyand titled “Who Are You?”, names itself after a phrase that defines this sometimes pathetic, always perplexing, and subtly humanized antagonist’s existence and doubles as the last words he ever hears. I find myself both satisfied by his fate and unexpectedly moved that, in a series about tragic characters, Syril Karn has become one. Yet Syril’s tragedy, in asuitably karmatic twist of the knife, isn’t the bittersweet kind that’s in store for Cassian. Syril’s arc integrates an intentionally disturbing piece of Star Wars subtext into the foreground, andthe only fitting conclusion for that theme condemns Syrilto becoming the very thing he dreads most: irrelevant.
Syril Karn’s Ethics Clash With His Unpredictability in ‘Andor’
Syril’s fanatical obsession with Cassianrivals his romanticized view of the Empire because the two are one and the same. Even though he longs to ascend the professional ladder, Syril pursues Cassian with such imperative intensity because his brand of ethics demands that nothing, not even bureaucratic red tape, should prevent him from bringing a criminal to justice. Beyond that disobedience, Syril seems to latch onto the Empire’s rigid structure like a ravenous piranha. Raised under the belittling thumb of his nitpicking mother, Eedy (Kathryn Hunter), Syril is anavid rule-follower, pencil-pusher, and social outsider who’s desperate to gain a sliver of control, and someone fully, guilelessly buys into the Empire’s flimsy propaganda. Maybe worst of all,Syril believes the entire Empire shares his upstanding values.
Combine those qualities with feeling humiliated and isolated after his devotion to law-and-order costs Syril his future instead of earning him rewards, and he echoes howdisenfranchised young menof every real-world generation fall prey to, or vigorously embrace, fascist indoctrination. As a woman, thatstrikes too close to home. I’ve both uneasily eyed Syril like he’s a ticking time bomb and appreciated how Gilroy meticulously craftsa character who’s malleable, willfully obtuse, repressing a skein of entitled anger, and proof of how easily radicalization takes root.
Syril Faces the Consequences of His Actions in ‘Andor’ Season 2
Unsurprisingly, gaining a promotion anda sneering girlfriendin Season 2 confidence-boosts Syril out of his shell. Also unsurprisingly, he approaches his strategic infiltration of the Ghorman Front with the gall of a friendly authority figure who believes they’re doing the best thing for you; none of the traditional Imperial malice exists here. This mentality fundamentally diverges from his beloved Dedra, the ISB officer who grits her teeth but still implements the mostbrutal version of the planshe created. Dedra’s years-long manipulation cuts deep, but the Empire is the true love of Syril’s life. The blade of that betrayal bleeds Syril dry of the ideological security he treasures, idolizes, and twists himself to fit inside. What’s left is the truth:neither Syril nor his dogmatic loyalty meant anything to the Empire. They exploited his vulnerability and molded him into a perfect cog in their systematic machine. What’s more, everything he desires has been held outside his reach because the system never intended to let him become more than a disposable pawn.
“I’m Trying To Get Permission”: ‘Andor’s Creator Is Trying to Help Fans Remix an Iconic Season 2 Scene [Exclusive]
Mon Mothma’s dancing has taken the world by storm.
But once he rejects both the organization and the woman he loves, Syril (rightfully) has nowhere to go, and nothing else to look at, except the consequences of his unwitting actions. As he stumbles into the same plaza he strode across almost every day for years, those pristine streets fill withthe slaughtered bodiesof the exact people with whom he ingratiated himself. The Ghorman Front was likely Syril’s first glimpse of unconditional love, community, and moral integrity. It’s equally feasible that Syril, someone who refuses to reconcile genocide as a necessary tactical evil, hasgrown to care about these peoplein return. He shouldn’t be stunned by this heinous outcome, but he also never stopped anchoring his life to the delusionally heroic lie he was sold and then perpetuated. In unfiltered real-time, at the expense of innocent revolutionaries,Syril comprehends the human cost of tying his moral ethos to a tyrannical force. The highest-level Imperials increase their power from a distance, but the Empire can’t thrive without the everyday complicity of people like Syril Karn.
Syril’s Death in ‘Andor’ Season 2 Denies Him Redemption
Depicting Syril’s reaction to the plaza massacre would be a daunting proposition for any actor.Soller’s performance, defined by his layered range (equally entertaining and fraught) and his unconventional, bold, and blisteringly vulnerable choices, has always been the main reason why Syril never wore out his welcome. Frankly, Soller’s culminating work in “Who Are You?” is astounding — a palpable crisis of faithsold through facial expressionsalone. AlthoughAndorfamiliarized us with Syril’s sympathetic attributes, I never sympathized with him. Watching that sickening avalanche of understanding, distress, shame, grief, and existential devastation crumble Syril into irreparable defeat, however, isthe first time I’ve felt legitimate sympathy for him.
Yet even while heaccepts an earth-shattering revelation, Syril can’t help but be his own worst enemy. Instead of earning some virtue by helping the protesters, Syril targets Cassian in a violent eruption minutes after assaulting Dedra with the precise kind of visceral rage that rattles me with a bone-deep fear. Syril defecting to the Rebellion has been a prevailing theory sinceAndor’s first season. But he again prioritizes his needs, this time by turning bothhis intimate partnerand his nemesis into emotional outlets to pour all those emotions into. Cassian’s befuddled question — “who are you?” — doesn’t just strip their long-awaited reunion of any triumph,it strikes to the core of Syril’s beingat the exact moment he has no shields or tethers left. Syril’s hovering, poignant pause becomes a permanent non-answer once Carro Rylanz (Richard Sammel) eliminates even the distant chance of Syril stumbling into a redemptive epiphany. Up until his dying gasp, Syril couldn’t — or wouldn’t — untangle the moralism by which he defined his supposedly secure identity, from the self-serving fragility and fear that dooms him.
Syril’s Death in ‘Andor’ Season 2 Is Satisfying and Subversive, but Still Sad
The onlyappropriate fate for Syril Karnis one that denies him glory. A term like “deserving” can easily be misused, but the Syril we’ve known has never deserved a free pass to legitimate heroism. Arguably, given the juxtaposition between his genuine ethics and his misguided allegiances,he did deserve a chance to choose the kind of self-discovery that empowers a righteous causelike the Rebellion: accepting accountability, healing from his Imperial conditioning, and transferring that ferocious drive into selfless action.
MostAndorviewers know that Cassian and the rest of theRogue Onecrewdie to the Death Star, the same superweapon their sacrifice will sabotage. Even though they aren’t credited with saving the galaxy, the Rebellion’s triumph rests upon the contributions of their unknown names.Andorensures Syril’s name is lost within a fatality total of the same innocents he inadvertently condemned. The harmony betweenGilroy’s writing and Soller’s performancesecures that erasure as both fitting and inexorably sad. Even though the Imperial propaganda machine never mentions his name, any fallen officer feeds their goal — even in death, the Empire weaponizes Syril into an anti-Ghorman pawn. Unlike Cassian Andor, a flawed and frightened man whose reluctant self-awareness destroys an empire, neither Syril’s life nor death amounts to anything worth memorializing.
New episodes ofAndorSeason 2 premiere on Tuesdays on Disney+.
