Diego Luna on the Magic of 'Andor' and Why He's Never Seen Anything Like It Again

When a Phenomenon Becomes a Memory

As I stand in the bustling halls of the San Sebastián Film Festival, watching Diego Luna discuss his journey from Andor to his latest film Ashes, I'm struck by something profound. Luna's words carry that signature blend of humility and wit that makes him such a compelling storyteller — not just as an actor, but now as a director.

"It doesn't compare to anything else," Luna says, his voice tinged with both reverence and bittersweet reflection. "You come home, and something reminds you it's already there. There is a level of attention, sure, but that becomes affection and a sense of companionship."

That affection he speaks of? It's the kind that transcends age, genre, and screen size — the emotional resonance of Andor, a show that found its way into millions of hearts and minds. Luna played the titular character in Disney+'s acclaimed Star Wars spinoff, which ran for two seasons and earned him two Golden Globe nominations. The experience was transformative, but it also marked a turning point — one that left him feeling uniquely unmoored from his next steps.

From 'Andor' to 'Ashes': A Director's Journey

As Luna speaks about Ashes, the film that's currently making waves at festivals around the globe, it becomes clear that this is no ordinary return to cinema. He's not just telling a story — he's reclaiming his narrative.

Adapted from Brenda Navarro's novel, Ashes follows 21-year-old Lucila (Anna Díaz) and her brother Diego (Sergio Bautista) as they navigate life in Madrid after their mother Adriana Paz (Adriana Paz) moved there for work. The film delves into the emotional aftermath of displacement, exploring themes of abandonment, resilience, and the search for identity.

"When we talk about migrants, we're not thinking about what they left behind," Luna notes, his eyes lighting up with passion. "That's something I wanted to address in my film." It's a perspective that feels increasingly vital in an age where immigration rhetoric is often polarizing and dehumanizing.

The Weight of Representation

What's fascinating about Luna's approach to Ashes is how he doesn't just tell the immigrant story — he interrogates it. He challenges the audience to think about the stories behind the statistics, the human narratives lost in the noise.

"It's a story that keeps happening and will continue to happen unless we truly react," he says. "There are multiple reasons for it today: violence, economic mobility, the climate crisis. It's an endless list, but the fact remains that people will keep moving, and the issue lies on how we receive them."

His words echo with urgency — a reminder that cinema, as an art form, has a responsibility to reflect humanity, not just to entertain. In a world where stories are often told through the lens of power or profit, Luna's film asks us to be curious, to listen, and to empathize.

Why 'Andor' Was Special

Luna's comparison between his experience with Andor and making Ashes isn't just a reflection on two different projects — it's a statement on the very nature of filmmaking. When asked about the differences between working on a large-scale franchise and an independent film, he makes a distinction that cuts straight to the heart of creative freedom.

"When filming a movie, the challenges you face are the same whether it's a massive production or a smaller one," he says. "I think what really defines the projects is whether they champion a specific point of view. Then there's the other kind of cinema, films that lack that vision, that seek only to please, and generally don't let you be who you want to be."

For Luna, Andor wasn't just a project — it was a phenomenon. A cultural touchstone that reached across generations and resonated with fans worldwide. But it also came with its own constraints. It had to please, it had to connect, it had to live up to expectations.

"It's really lovely, and it spans generations," Luna adds. "You encounter it in so many places and from so many angles: affection from people discovering it for the first time, and from others revisiting something that unlocks their childhood memories."

But now, with Ashes, he's in control — not of a global franchise, but of a deeply personal story. And there's something liberating about that.

The Art of Curiosity

What makes Luna such a compelling voice is his ability to blend the personal with the political. He doesn't just make films; he asks questions. Questions about identity, about belonging, and about how we see each other in the world.

In one of the most touching moments of our conversation, he talks about the discomfort that comes with encountering someone different — a feeling that's universal but often misunderstood. "It's natural to sometimes feel uncomfortable with the presence of others, especially with the presence of something new," he says. "But I think cinema is a beautiful metaphor for understanding, which is something we need today."

For Luna, that understanding begins with curiosity — and ends in empathy. In a time when divisiveness reigns, his films serve as invitations to step into someone else's shoes, to listen to their stories, and to see the humanity in every face.

The Language of Cinema

When asked by a young Mexican film student about whether aspiring directors should make films in English or remain faithful to their Spanish roots, Luna offers an insight that's both practical and poetic.

"Making films in Spanish gives native speakers 'a very special freedom.' You don't have to move to make sure that your stories travel," he says. "We are here in Spain, and I am a Mexican presenting my film. Pablo Larraín is Chilean, presenting an Argentinian film. You can remain who you are, and your films have the chance of travelling and connecting to audiences."

This isn't just about language — it's about ownership, identity, and representation. Luna's work shows us that storytelling doesn't require a passport or a global marketing campaign. It just requires truth.

Looking Forward

Luna's reflections on Ashes are more than a retrospective — they're a call to action. In an era where cinema is often criticized for its lack of heart, his film stands as a testament to the power of narrative to heal and connect.

He may have experienced something rare and magical with Andor, but he's not saying it's impossible to recreate that kind of magic again. He's simply acknowledging that it's unlikely — and that's okay. Because every film, whether it's a blockbuster or a small indie, deserves to be felt.

In the end, Luna's journey reminds us that art isn't just about what you see on screen — it's about how you feel when the credits roll. And in that feeling lies the true magic of cinema.