Defining A Franchise: The Siege Of Mandalore
Introduction:
When a franchise becomes as expansive and famous as Star Wars, it’s naturally a challenge to define what that story is at its core with so many films, shows and books each with a different set of characters and themes they aim to explore. Despite that, even 43 years after the original Star Wars took cinema by storm, the final arc of Dave Filoni’s Star Wars: The Clone Wars serves as the perfect encapsulation of everything this franchise is meant to be, and cements itself as the inarguable height of Star Wars storytelling.
Excellence In Filmmaking:
I hold firmly to the belief that every element of film composition is almost as important as each other. Naturally a terrible story will result in a worse film than terrible editing, but it’s surprising the drastic effect even the most minor of those details falling flat can have on an overall product. My point is, a perfect film, or show, has to be perfect everywhere. It’s not enough to provide elaborate CGI sequences if said sequences aren’t reinforced by incredible cinematography and phenomenal storytelling. There’s a reason nobody talks about Avatar’s first flight sequence despite it being part of the highest grossing film ever, whereas How To Train Your Dragon’s similar scene ‘test drive’ is universally praised as one of the best blends of cinematography and soundtrack ever put to screen.
So, how does this relate to the Siege Of Mandalore? It’s as simple as these 4 episodes being masterful executed in all areas of film form. Cinematography? Absolutely breathtaking. Soundtrack? Some of the franchise’s best, and that’s high praise when said franchise has many tracks composed by the most legendary film composer of all time, John Williams. Editing? Crisp, intense, holds a relentless pace. Story? The single best part of this arc. It’s the culmination of so many character journeys, and dare I say, I do, far and away the best storytelling in Star Wars.
To demonstrate how these episodes are such standouts in all these areas, I’ll break down my favourite scene from the arc, and a definite contender for my favourite scene in cinema as a whole. The final confrontation between Maul and Ahsoka, ocurring in the second episode of the arc, ‘The Phantom Apprentice’. While it’s not typically seen as the best of the four, I think it truly gives ‘Victory And Death’ competition for that best episode spot. Frankly just looking at the episode ratings should reinforce this entire review fairly strongly. I’ll list the IMDB ratings below.
Episode 1 ‘Old Friends Not Forgotten’ – 9.7/10
Episode 2 ‘The Phantom Apprentice’ – 9.8/10
Episode 3 ‘Shattered’ – 9.8/10
Episode 4 ‘Victory And Death’ – 9.9/10
While I don’t consider IMDB rating a particularly reliable indicator of quality (The Battle Of The Bastards having a 9.9 rating compared to The Watchers On The Wall’s 9.6 is a notably offensive example of this) having 4 episodes in a row with an average score of 9.8 is a feat that can only be claimed by shows in the vein of Breaking Bad, Attack On Titan and Game Of Thrones, which at their peaks truly are the pinnacle of the industry.
Scene Breakdown:
Back to the scene breakdown, I’d like to first outline why I think it’s such an incredible moment in not just this arc, not just this show, but in the story of Star Wars as a whole. While most people remember this episode for the epic duel between Maul and Ahsoka, which is admittedly one of the best fight scenes I’ve ever seen, in my eyes the best part of ‘The Phantom Apprentice’ is the conversation between the two leading up to the duel.
Ultimately this scene resonates with me in part for centring on two of my favourite characters, not just in Star Wars, but in fiction. But disregarding my bias, it serves as the conclusion to each of their arcs up to this point. Of course both these characters have further stories following this, which were actually explored prior to the release of the Siege Of Mandalore in 2014’s Star Wars: Rebels, but chronologically this is a true climax for two of the best arcs we get to experience in the Prequel time period.
Ahsoka is the protagonist of The Clone Wars, and was initially one of the most despised characters in the franchise when it first released in 2008. She was never quite Jar Jar Binks, but fans really didn’t emote with her. She was cocky, bratty and annoying, and the audience were generally offput at Anakin having a padawan we never saw in the movies. Despite the backlash, Filoni knew what he wanted the character to be and persevered with the story he wanted to tell. 17 years later, Ahsoka is one of the most beloved characters in the Star Wars. She evolved over the course of the series, became stronger and more mature and fans started to relate to her. It all came to a head in Season 5’s final arc, which saw Ahsoka falsely accused of terrorism against the Jedi, and resulted in her abandonment of Anakin and the order. This solved the issue of her absence from the films and fleshed out Anakin’s fall to the dark side in ‘Revenge Of The Sith’ even further than the Clone Wars already had, retrospectively improving that set of films.
But why is this important? This is an analysis of the Siege Of Mandalore, not of the entire show. Well, I needed to give some background to reinforce why this scene is so effective. Their confrontation sees Maul, one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy and former apprentice to arguably the most powerful, Darth Sidious, trying to convert Ahsoka to his side in what could’ve been a festival of cliche’s. It even has the age old trope of the villain extending their hand to the hero in a gesture of partnership. But what sets this scene apart is a little technique called pathetic fallacy. Dave Filoni has been criticised for many of his choices over the years, but one thing nobody can deny is that he knows his audience. He’s not trying to bring in fresh fans here. It’s the 10th episode of the 7th season of a show that was cancelled in 2013 and renewed for one last hurrah in 2020, which itself is a spinoff of the prequels to the original Star Wars trilogy. Suffice to say, everyone watching knows these characters, and more importantly, knows what’s happening adjacent to this scene in the timeline.
The Siege Of Mandalore takes place at the same time as the events of ‘Revenge Of The Sith’, a fact the audience is made painfully aware of before this. Because of that, the viewers know that as Ahsoka confronts Maul, Anakin is discovering Palpatine’s secret identity as the Sith lord. A discovery which sparks a catastrophic chain of events that causes nothing but death and suffering for the characters the audience has come to love. The reason this matters so much, the reason this scene has such an impact, is because it offers a chance for a different outcome. Nobody can explain it, it’s a phenomenon that seems entirely unique to this movie, but anybody who has seen ‘Revenge Of The Sith’ multiple times will tell you that on rewatches they prayed for it to end differently, genuinely thought Anakin might not turn despite knowing how it ends. The movie is able to elicit this response because it offers so many, and I mean soo many opportunities to play out differently, so many decisions that make the audience ask ‘what if they hadn’t’ or ‘what if they had’.
The conversation between Maul and Ahsoka offers up yet another chance for Anakin’s fall, and the Empire’s rise, to be prevented. We watch the scene, experience Maul’s excellently written monolgue, understand he’s finally realised Palpatine’s plan, and in the back of our minds that senseless question we had watching the third prequel movie pops back up, ‘maybe Anakin doesn’t turn this time’. Then, Maul delivers the cliche to end all cliches, the infamous ‘join me’ proposition. And it’s brilliant. Brilliant, because where most of these scenes have us want the protagonist to decline the offer and stand against the villain, and always make it painfully obvious the hero won’t turn, here we want nothing more than for Ahsoka to take his hand. I remember mentally begging her to join Maul in this moment, even though I knew it couldn’t change anything.
And then, we get a subversion of expectations on the level of Game Of Thrones’ red wedding. “I will help you.” We…got what we wanted? She joined him as we all desperately wished. Only, a new question starts brewing at the back of the mind. How does this go wrong? It can’t stop the rise of the Empire, Anakin falling to the dark side, Padme dying, all that still has to occur. All that runs through our brains unconsciously in the mere second long gap in the dialogue. And then the crushing blow comes. Ahsoka’s next line. “But you must answer me one thing.” The dreaded ‘but’. “What do you want with Anakin Skywalker?” The audience already knows the answer. Maul has seen what Anakin becomes. Darth Vader. But it’s the nail in the coffin. Tension, better than I’ve seen it executed since Walt begged for his brother to be spared in ‘Ozymandias’. Pathetic fallacy plays in again. As the viewer we know Maul is right, we know Ahsoka has a chance to stop the brutal events of the coming hours, but we also understand she’d never believe him. “You lie. Your vision is flawed.” And there it is. Filoni shatters our desperate desire for a different outcome with the whirr of a lightsaber ignition. And begins one of the best duels in the franchise.
That’s a very basic overview of what makes this scene so narratively potent. It’s missing much of the nuanced interpretation that only hardcore Star Wars fans will be privy to, but it covers the bulk of the scene’s quality from a storytelling perspective. Take all that emotional weight and personal connection with the audience and accentuate it with Sam Witwer’s ever-unrivalled excellence in voice acting (Ashley Eckstein’s Ahsoka is great as well but few can dream of matching the performance of Witwer as Maul) and you have the building blocks for an absolute masterpiece.
But as I mentioned earlier, a truly perfect scene can’t stand solely on the legs of masterful storytelling and incredible acting, it needs to excel in every single area of filmmaking. And this one absolutely does. The cinematography is perhaps one of the most standout aspects of its identity. The scene is initially composed primarily of over the shoulder shots and close-ups reversed for both characters to place them in opposition. Maul and Ahsoka don’t know each other, she’s only heard of him as the ruthless revenge-driven Sith who killed Qui Gon Jinn, he’s only heard of her as the apprentice of Anakin Skywalker, the man he knows will become Darth Vader. To highlight this they are framed with very distant proxemics.
But this changes as the scene progresses. The shots push in to become mostly close-ups of the characters as Maul forms a personal connection between the pair by referencing Ahsoka’s abandonment of the Jedi and highlighting the similarities between their betrayal of her and Sidious’ betrayal of him. Maul is consistently framed with split lighting, the fires of battle outside the throne room casting an orange-white glow on his face symbolic of his enlightenment to the tragedy to come. On the other hand, a shadow lingers over him, representative of his never ending lust for power and revenge that ultimately motivates his offer to Ahsoka. As their confrontation reaches its climactic moment, an explosion outside shatters the throne room’s window, leading to one of the most visually stunning shots in the franchise, of course a wide two shot as so many great shots are. Then, closed framing through the shattered glass, but not separating Maul and Ahsoka. They are both central to the conflict now. It’s 20 seconds of silence between them, ensuring the audience feels the weight of the decision Ahsoka has to make.
When she decides to help Maul, the camera reaches its closest point. The confrontation has become personal to both characters, and to the audience. When Maul reveals Anakin’s fate, it’s through an uncomfortably oppressive close up. That’s the moment that shatters the connection between them, and we return to the distant over the shoulder shots present at the start of the scene. And another detail can be seen, one that’s been in the background since the window exploded. Embers. The start of fires. And what takes place a few hours after this confrontation? Anakin and Obi Wan’s fateful duel among flames on the volcano planet Mustafar, and Darth Vader’s baptism by fire. The embers of that duel were sparked here, when Maul offered Ahsoka what the audience knows would’ve been a chance to prevent Anakin’s fall, and she refused, making the birth of Darth Vader all the more inevitable.
Then the duel initiates, which itself has incredible cinematography, sound design, editing etc. And the choreography. Just phenomenal, performed by professional stunt actors using motion capture suits, including Ray Park, Maul’s actor from ‘The Phantom Menace”, but enhanced thanks to the medium of animation. But this analysis isn’t about the duel. I’d like to quickly touch on the classic motifs of the red and blue lightsabers, a symbol of the conflict between good and evil, hero and villain, an association of colours that was formed for many people in large part thanks to this iconography in Star Wars. But here, Ahsoka and Maul each have two blades. Of course it’s really because those are the styles of weapon fans are accustomed to seeing these characters with, but it’s also symbolic of the fact that Ahsoka is no longer a Jedi (A notion she embraces in her similarly incredible duel with Vader in Star Wars: Rebels) and Maul is no longer a Sith (Which he himself admits in the first of that two part episode from Rebels). They don’t use the classic weapons of their order, they aren’t defined by those codes and rules anymore, and the division between them and the people who raised them is ultimately what connects them.
But on top of all that amazing cinematography, the editing is phenomenal also. It’s incredibly slow, a rarity for Star Wars, and really lets the audience linger with the dialogue. Filoni understands his audience, he trusts them to acknowledge the significance of this moment, and as such he lets Maul’s monologue be the sole focus of the scene. Just words, no action, a technique which this franchise has only truly taken advantage of a handful of times. And it’s so much more effective than anything else could’ve been. If Maul’s dialogue had been written to a lower standard, if the editing had let the scene down, if the cinematography hadn’t supported it, this monologue couldn’t have worked. But all of those things do come together, allowing for one of the best lines I’ve heard from a show. “Too late for what the republic to fall? It already has and you just can’t see it! There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it.” It does what an excellent piece of dialogue always should. It serves as a singular definition of an entire arc. That being, one of the primary explorations of The Clone Wars. The failings of the Jedi. The show always makes clear just how many opportunities there were for things to play out differently, for the events of Revenge Of The Sith to change. But they never do, because the Jedi are inherently flawed and cannot themselves change. Ahsoka realises this, Anakin realises this, and it’s this realisation that in the end drives him to Sidious’ mentorship.
It should be pretty evident why I regard this scene so highly when it executes perfectly on every single aspect of filmmaking. But even a scene that is perfectly constructed in all areas can’t be called a perfect scene unless it’s underlined with a potent influence on the themes and arcs of the story. So is this one? Well, simply, yes. It serves as an excellent culmination of Maul and Ahsoka’s arcs to this point chronologically, it is absolutely filled with thematic potency and weight in the context of the story, importantly not just the story of The Clone Wars, but the story of Star Wars. It’s for all these reasons and frankly so many more nuances that the confrontation between Ahsoka and Maul has cemented itself as one of my favourite scenes in all of cinema.
The Ending:
I went into a lot of detail about that single scene, but I wouldn’t even be prepared to die on the hill that it’s the peak of the arc. It’s definitely the high point for me, but the final moments of these 4 episodes are incredibly close to that same level of greatness. For that reason, I’d like to discuss the ending of Star Wars: The Clone Wars before I elaborate on the arc as a whole.
The last few scenes of The Clone Wars expertly capture the primary theme of the series, that being the horrors of war. The entire show has focused on the characters of the clones, humanising them and marking them with distinct and likeable personalities. Over the course of the story we’ve witnessed many of those beloved characters fall victim to the war, a war we know is utterly meaningless since Palpatine is playing both sides, it’s a means to his dark ends. There is no reason for the clones to be forced to fight and die. And the final season’s ending reinforces this. It creates a depressing, lifeless atmosphere in the ashes of the fallen ship as we see the graves of the clones, whose humanity this arc in particular has gone out of its way to showcase. The helmets of the clones are a splash of colour on the grey-brown aftermath of the crash, but ultimately the last we see of the clones in this series is of a sea of helmets, painted in one of two formats, no identity to be seen. It conveys the message that the clones are just that, clones, bred for war and expendable. An idea the show has built its identity around disproving.
That’s why it works so well. A lesser ending would’ve seen the story’s moral message be enforced and the clones’ unique identities put front and centre, but here those identities fade into obscurity. It’s all in service of The Clone Wars’ anti-war messaging. War will always destroy. No matter how attached we got to these characters, no matter how distinct their personalities were to us, war doesn’t care for that, it shows no mercy regardless. It destroys irrespective of allegiance or code, of identity or order. So as the series brings itself to a close, the audience isn’t left with any scrap of hope, there’s no reference to Rex and Ahsoka going on to fight the Empire as part of the rebellion as we know they eventually will, we aren’t given a moral out to say ‘oh well at least x happened’. There’s nothing to celebrate, which isn’t what we’d expect of a show that went for 5 years and returned for a grand final send off 7 years later. The only thing the audience is able to feel in response to this scene is hopelessness. An overwhelming sense of injustice. The clones became just the programmed soldiers the whole series had tried to prove they weren’t, Rex was forced to choose between his brothers, now little more than droids, or his closest friend, who had been wrongfully sentenced to death, Ahsoka had to watch all her once loyal allies die despite risking her life to avoid killing them. And all that suffering leads to nothing. There’s no moment of payoff, no light at the end of the tunnel. Fans may have expected Bail Organa to arrive in a shuttle and whisk them off with the promise that the rebellion would defeat the empire. But instead these last moments between Rex and Ahsoka are pure, miserable, melancholy and mourning.
The show could’ve ended with that scene and still delivered one of the best endings to any story, but it manages to drive the despair home even further with the real final scene, the epilogue of sorts to the series. It takes place an undisclosed number of years after the previous scene, likely at least a couple given the stormtroopers present. The snowy planet is empty, isolated. And at the heart of that is Darth Vader. He’s alone. Imperial forces occupy the planet, but where his clone legion was filled with personality, the imperials are more a machine. It’s interesting to note this serves as Anakin’s final scene of the series. When comparing the final scenes of Vader here to the first scenes of Anakin from all the way back in 2008’s Clone Wars Movie, the difference is night and day, yet the similarities serve to anchor just how much Anakin has lost. In that first shot he’s surrounded by his clone allies, along with his friend and master Obi Wan. Here he has nobody. He finds what can be seen as the final remnant of who he was before, Ahsoka’s lightsaber. Filoni made the excellent decision to have Anakin’s eyes be visible through his helmet here, which, though we never see his full face, tells us all we need to know. We feel Anakin’s regret in this scene, for a fleeting moment, before he walks away. It being an Ahsoka printed helmet could be seen as signifying Anakin’s abandonment of his former apprentice. The final shot of the series, a discarded clone helmet, in the reflection of which Vader fades into darkness, cementing the death of Anakin Skywalker.
Why It's A Masterpiece:
We’ve established what a show, or a story in general, must do to earn a perfect 10/10 in my books, the coveted 5 star rating. It has to excel in all areas of film construction, be it storytelling, production, post production, every element needs to be equally strong to reach those heights.
But now I’m going to claim that if a story wants to be seen as a masterpiece, that just isn’t enough. Strange given I’ve talked about how important all those things are this whole time, but for a series to truly go above and beyond it must do more. It has to make us think, has to attach us to the characters, most importantly, to make us care. Granted those are all elements a great show should be implementing as part of that excellent storytelling, but they’re what separates the amazing shows from the once in a lifetime experiences. They’re what differentiates an Arcane from an Attack On Titan, a Squid Games from a Breaking Bad, these phenomenal shows are so beloved because they make the audience love them, love their stories and the characters at the heart of those stories. It’s how these fragments of a creative’s mind live on for years after they’re put to the page or screen, because they make the audience want them to live on.
I guarantee the immediate response to this entire piece is ‘really, an animated Star Wars show primarily targeted at children is a masterpiece?’ Yes. I’ve always despised the sentiment that a story should be disregarded for having a different target audience. Sure, it affects the way it’s created and the content within, but if that content is so vastly superior to most of the films and shows put out for adults why shouldn’t it be respected as such. Star Wars has become notorious for having one of the most hateful communities of any franchse, be it videogames, movies, tv, whatever. While I’ve been a part of that community for most my life, I’m not going to act like it isn’t. The amount of unfair and biased criticism within this space is outright concerning, to the point I wouldn’t be confident every fan even wants to see the franchise prosper. I bring up my issues with the community to support my praise of this arc. Besides the original Star Wars movie in 1977, every project Lucasfilm have produced has been met with immense backlash. Even Empire Strikes Back, now widely considered the best movie in the saga, faced criticism at the time. The Prequels were notoriously despised by fans but are now incredibly beloved despite not being particularly great films. The Clone Wars itself had a rough start, Rebels is largely loved by people who’ve seen it in its entirety but it still doesn’t get the love it deserves. Then we get to the sequels which started well and fell off a cliff completely for the second and third movies, and everybody knows how controversial the entirety of Disney’s time with Star Wars has been since. The point I’m trying to make, in an incredibly long winded manner, is that the Siege Of Mandalore was the exception to that trend of backlash. The Clone Wars’ final season as a whole has some issues that have been fairly criticised, but I’ve yet to see a single person say anything negative about the final arc, and I’ve seen a wealth of negativity from Star Wars fans surrounding every other project Disney has released.
I find that to be so significant. In today’s media landscape, audience expectations are at an all time high, they’ve never been more critical. That’s thanks to the internet, which allows everybody to share their thoughts on a story. I think this is largely a positive, though it does allow some truly ill-conceived criticism and sometimes outright hatred, people should be able to voice when a series has let them down, especially when they care. Star Wars fans, for all their flaws, are more dedicated to this franchise than any other community, so to have a story be as well received as the Siege Of Mandalore is a monumental feat. Let’s not forget when it released either. The final episode aired on May 4th 2020, Star Wars day. Fitting. But, not five months earlier, the worst film to ever poison the silver screen was released. The Rise Of Skywalker. The abomination with no redeeming qualities. This film makes She-Hulk look like God’s greatest gift to man, it makes Avatar: The Way Of Water seem like an inconceivable feat of cinematic brilliance. And that’s the universal opinion. Sure, critics are, ironically, not as critical as they should be of it, but the general audience, particularly dedicated Star Wars fans, absolutely despised this movie. In the grand old year of 2025 even saying the four words that make up this movie’s title will make anyone who’s suffered through it turn their nose up like you’ve let out a bad fart. It’s telling that even 5 years later the line ‘somehow Palpatine returned’ has become a remark used to derisively mock a story regardless of it having any ties to Star Wars.
The rant about tRoS may have been slightly unnecessary, but I needed to illustrate a point and when it comes to the most unforgivable fictional work ever I can never help myself. But what was the point I was trying to make? Well, thanks to that movie, Star Wars fans were outraged. They’d all but given up on the franchise’s ability to produce quality content, the general audience couldn’t care less about it anymore, and Lucasfilm was in an incredibly difficult situation. Everybody hated Disney. Granted, that sentiment remains with many people today, but it’s safe to say their next project would be absolutely critical. Fans would be more skeptical than ever before, any tiny mistep would be immediately torn apart by the community. And for the first 8 episodes of the Clone Wars season 7, the criticism came. The first arc was praised, but wasn’t declared as anything all that special, the second was absolutely hated by the community despite being far from the Clone Wars’ worst set of episodes. Then, the Siege Of Mandalore released. The dust settled after the 4 weeks of episodes, with, shockingly, not a criticism to be found. Everybody loved the arc. It was praised more highly than Star Wars ever had been before. And what an absolutely groundbreaking feat to earn unchallenged universal adoration following probably the most hated movie of all time.
The instinctive argument would be that it was simply looked upon so fondly because it came after The Rise Of Skywalker, that next to that horrific film anything would’ve looked like a masterpiece. But, five years later, the episodes still hold their 9.8 average rating on IMDB, they’re still far and away the most beloved episodes in the franchise. Ask any fan what they think of the Siege Of Mandalore, you’ll hear nothing but shining approval.
In Conclusion:
It’s easy to declare this essay as biased. It’s coming from a diehard Star Wars fan after all. But before that, my passion is ultimately for film as a whole, for storytelling as a whole. While I love Star Wars, I’ll be the first to admit that the movies aren’t anything all that special, and the shows are a mixed bag of excellence and garbage. But regardless of your opinion of Star Wars, the Siege Of Mandalore is one of its few projects that truly manages to transcend that and cement itself as an incredible piece of media, that’s an incredible piece of media regardless of your familiarity with the franchise. I’ve compared the arc to the early half of Game Of Thrones, to Attack On Titan, to Breaking Bad, juggernaughts of the industry that stand as the goalpost for excellence, and that’s entirely intentional. Because I wholeheartedly consider these 4 episodes to be the best content TV has to offer. The Siege Of Mandalore is the Ozymandias of animation.