The Acolyte

It’s a real shame we won’t see a second season of The Acolyte. The show had potential, but it tripped over itself enough to make that potential frustrating to watch. While there are great ideas here, some feel bogged down by bigger Lucasfilm problems, and others are derailed by clunky storytelling choices.

Let’s be clear here, the story presented in The Acolyte is good. It’s intriguing, raises questions, and builds on lore in numerous ways. The story isn’t perfect, but good enough.

Set a century before The Phantom Menace, Mae kills Jedi Master Indara by exploiting the Jedi’s compassion—a great, brutal setup that immediately establishes Mae as a clever and dangerous antagonist. This sparks an investigation involving Yord Fandar and his Padawan. Osha, whose status as a twin makes her a convenient scapegoat for the murder.

But then the story stumbles. A crash sequence on Carlac drags things out unnecessarily. If Yord had just gone with Osha to Coruscant like any reasonable Jedi would, none of this would’ve been needed. It’s an obvious contrivance to pad runtime, and it shows.

The series does succeed in showcasing the Jedi as guardians of peace and justice in their prime in the early episodes. We even get a fascinating glimpse of their unease with Senate oversight and the seeds of their eventual downfall. Yord’s near-use of the Force during an interrogation foreshadows the Jedi’s efforts in the Naboo crisis decades later—a clever touch. These are the moments where the show really shines.

From there, Osha’s former master, Sol, is brought in to deal with her, all the while leading into a continuous investigation into Mae and her targets: Indara, Torbin, Kelnacca, and Sol. The reasons these four Jedi are the targets becomes the center of a mystery, as they were involved 16 years earlier in disrupting operations on Mae and Osha’s home of Brendok which left their coven all but dead. Even more troubling is the mysterious master of Mae, known only as the Stranger whose identity is unknown even to Mae herself.

But the portrayal of the Jedi feels off. Yes, the show is about villains, but the Jedi are painted as corrupt and incompetent from the start, with no buildup. Instead of slowly exposing their flaws, the show jumps straight to “Jedi are corrupt.” It misses an opportunity to earn the audience’s disillusionment with them.

The series’ biggest structural problem is its flashbacks. Episode three takes us 16 years into the past, introducing Mae and Osha’s coven of witches and their mysterious origins. Then, in episode seven, we revisit the same events from the Jedi’s perspective.  The first flashback already gave us the gist, so seeing it again with minor tweaks adds nothing. The “incident” wasn’t even shown in the first flashback anyway, and Mae/Osha weren’t even there to be bogged down by their misunderstanding of the events. This isn’t layered storytelling—it’s repetition and cheap.

Worse, the flashbacks feel disconnected from the main narrative, dragging us backward when the story should be moving forward.

This isn’t The Last Jedi’s Rashomon-esque approach to flashbacks, which enriched the narrative by offering conflicting perspectives woven into the development of characters. Here, the flashbacks feel like padding—unnecessary delays that frustrate more than they illuminate.

In my own fan edit (yes, I went there), I combined the two flashback-heavy episodes into one streamlined sequence that slots neatly into Sol’s explanation to Mae. The result? A more cohesive narrative that builds intrigue rather than dragging it out. It not only keeps the story moving forward, but cut enough while retaining its importance to have allowed an additional episode while keeping the episode count at eight.

The acting is hit-or-miss. Rebecca Henderson as Vernestra Rwoh is the weakest link—she’s so over-the-top serious that it’s hard to take her seriously at all. Other performances are serviceable but rarely exceptional. Stand outs are Manny Jacinto and Dafne Keen, who were delightful from the start.

The direction doesn’t help, often failing to bring out the best in the cast.

That said, the production values are stellar. The cinematography is gorgeous, the costuming and set design are rich with detail, and the lightsaber choreography is some of the best in recent Star Wars. Visually, the show is a treat.

The Acolyte suffers from a common streaming-era issue: dragging out a simple story to fill eight episodes. The flashbacks are a prime example of this, but even within individual episodes, there’s too much filler. Repeated shots, redundant dialogue, and unnecessary detours scream “we’re stalling for time.” The lack of payoff doesn’t help. Darth Plagueis’ shadowy presence is a nice tease, but it’s all tease and no substance. By the finale, we don’t know his role or his stakes. We don’t even know Qimir’s real name. If it’s suppose to remain a mystery, hint at why. Mae and Osha’s progression was good, but with where they end up it becomes insufficient, and we are back to where we started with them. The show just doesn’t give us enough to care. Instead of building anticipation for season two, the show leaves us feeling shortchanged.

The Acolyte had everything it needed to succeed: a fresh era, compelling villains, and rich Jedi lore. But poor pacing, clunky structure, and uneven performances dragged it down. The show isn’t bad, but it’s also not great. Had it been tighter, sharper, and more focused, it could have been a standout entry in the Star Wars canon. Instead, it’s a reminder that even in a galaxy far, far away, bad editing and structural gimmicks can sabotage a promising tale.

In the end, The Acolyte leaves you asking “What if?” more than anything else. And for a Star Wars show, that’s not the question you want lingering.