Star Wars: Maul - Shadow Lord continues to deliver!

by James Herrera

One of the things that has always fascinated me about the Star Wars universe is how much
we were never truly shown. When we first experienced the Empire in Episodes IV, V, and VI
— A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi — we got a glimpse. A
powerful, menacing glimpse, sure, but the story was always centered on Luke, Leia, Han and
Vader. The Empire was the backdrop, the machinery of evil humming in the distance. They
destroyed an entire planet in A New Hope, and yet it felt almost impersonal. We didn't know
anyone on Alderaan. We felt the horror of the act, but not the weight of the world it crushed.
That has changed completely. Thanks to shows like Rebels, and especially Andor, and now
Maul: Shadow Lord, we finally understand what it truly meant to live under Imperial rule.
Chapter Five, "The Inquisition," leans hard into this territory — and it is genuinely unsettling in
the best way. Stormtroopers moving through civilian spaces, demanding identification papers,
controlling movement and language and thought. There's a real-world weight to these images
that is difficult to shake, and I think the show knows exactly what it's doing. Star Wars has
always had its roots in historical fascism, but when it plays out in animation — a format that
reaches broadly — it hits with a different kind of clarity. This isn't subtext anymore.

Chapter Five opens with no cold open. No buffer, no warm-up. The show just starts. It's a
statement of intent: we are not letting up. And it sets the tone immediately.
Much of the episode is dedicated to groundwork — and it earns every quiet moment. We're
introduced to Lawson's wife and Rylee's mother, a character who is unsettling in a very
human way. She's not a villain. She's not cruel. She's simply been conditioned. When Rylee
expresses fear at the sight of stormtroopers, she reassures him: if they're here, it's to keep
things safe. Don't interfere. Cooperate. It's chilling precisely because it sounds so reasonable.
And the contrast with Brander Lawson — a man who clearly sees the Empire for what it is --
foreshadows a fracture that runs far deep.  These two people cannot share the same world forever. The show underlines this beautifully in one quiet visual moment. As Rylee's conversation with
his mother ends, Imperial ships drift past the window outside — a constant, looming presence
in the sky. No dialogue needed. The Empire isn't an event. It's the atmosphere now. It's just
always there.
Chapter Five also introduces Marrok, the First Brother Inquisitor, voiced with menacing
precision by A.J. LoCascio — known to many fans as the voice of Gambit in X-Men '97 and
Prince Lotor in Voltron: Legendary Defender. Marrok has appeared before, most notably in
Ahsoka, but here he feels fully realized. The animation of the character is stunning — fluid,
intimidating, and unmistakably Imperial.
The episode closes on a quiet but powerful note. We see Brander Lawson absentmindedly
scratching the back of his neck — a small nervous habit under the weight of everything he's
carrying. And then, in a separate moment, we see Rylee doing the exact same thing. No
dialogue, no fanfare. Just a visual whisper that says: no matter how far apart they are, this is
still father and son. It's a beautiful piece of storytelling. And the final shot — a Jedi hiding in
Lawson's apartment — closes the chapter on the perfect cliffhanger.

The next episode opens with a brief but iconic sequence: Maul, adjusting to his repaired leg,
Watching that crimson blade spin and cut through the darkness — it's a reminder of everything that makes this character extraordinary. And the animation? I've said it before, but I'll say it again: the evolution from the early seasons of The Clone Wars to what we're watching now is staggering. The fluidity of Maul's movement, the lighting, the physicality — it looks spectacular. This is what years of
refinement looks like.
There's a wonderful character moment early in the episode when Jedi Master Eeko-Dio Daki,
voiced with commanding gravity by Dennis Haysbert, refers to the events of Order 66 not by
that name — but as the Jedi Purge. It's a small thing. But it matters enormously. Order 66 is
the Empire's language — cold, clinical, a numbered command. The Jedi Purge is what it
actually was. A targeted extermination of an entire people. That Daki frames it that way says
everything about how he carries that trauma. It's lived experience, not a classified operation.
Small detail, huge character depth.
Before the episode erupts into action, we get a genuinely sweet scene between Devon and
Rylee — two kids from completely different worlds and upbringing.
And then Marrok arrives. What follows is one of the most impressive action sequences the
show has produced: a lightsaber fight in the tight, claustrophobic quarters of an apartment,
where every swing feels dangerous and urgent, before expanding into a breathtaking rooftop
showdown. Devon's abilities as a Jedi are more advanced than many viewers will have
expected. She holds her own. She surprises you. Combined with her remarkable piloting skills
shown later, Devon is quickly establishing herself as a genuine force — not just a passive
apprentice candidate, but a character with real power and agency.
There's also a quiet but brilliant moment with Two-Boots, Brander Lawson's droid partner,
voiced with perfectly dry wit by the brilliant Richard Ayoade. Two-Boots is programmed to
appreciate order and structure — everything the Empire presents itself as. He's cooperative,
compliant, aligned. Until Lt. Blake voiced by Alastair James Murden, orders him to remove his boots. And something shifts.
The boots aren't just footwear. They're his name. His identity. The one thing in a galaxy full of
identical droids that makes him distinctly himself. The Empire, without a second thought, tries
to strip it away — and in doing so, may have just created an enemy. It's a throwaway scene
that isn't throwaway at all. That's great writing.
The extended action sequence — escaping the club, into the train, the three-way lightsaber
battle between Devon, Maul, and Marrok — is absolutely extraordinary. Fast, fierce, and
layered with tension. Devon and Maul are forced into an uneasy momentary alliance against a
common threat while still being fundamentally at odds. The moral complexity of that dynamic
playing out at full speed is something to behold. Let me be clear: this show is not for kids. This
is adult Star Wars. It earns that designation in every frame.
And then there's Maul himself. Episode after episode, the complexity of this character
deepens. You know what he's fighting against. You know the Empire is the enemy. And yet
Maul is also the enemy. He is dangerous and ruthless and driven by his own dark hunger for
power. And somehow you're still invested in him. Still, somewhere, rooting for him. That
tension — between understanding a character and trusting them — is what makes great
fiction. Sam Witwer and the writing team are doing something genuinely special here.

One final note: Master Daki is still alive at the end of Chapter Six. I was convinced we'd lose
him in Chapter Four or Five. The fact that he has survived this long means something. It
means we are growing more attached. It means the inevitable is being delayed just long
enough to hurt. When Daki's time comes — and it will — it is going to be brutal and deeply
sad. The show is building toward something emotionally devastating, and it knows exactly
what it's doing.Chapter Six ends with Marrok communicating via hologram with a mysterious figure — and
the screen cuts before we find out who. I am genuinely angry that I have to wait a week. That
is the highest compliment I can give.
— — --
Chapter Five was a deliberate, patient slow burn — laying the groundwork for the terror of the
Empire's presence while deepening every character relationship in the story. Chapter Six was
the payoff: explosive, emotionally rich, and visually stunning. Together, they represent Maul:
Shadow Lord operating at a remarkably high level. This series is not just good Star Wars. It is
great television.

​9.7/10