THX-1138 Behind Bars
If you blinked during those first shots of Narkina 5 in Andor, you might have wondered: “Did I just tune into George Lucas’ THX 1138?” You’re not alone. Ever since the prison arc dropped, fans have been obsessed with the stark white hellscape Cassian Andor found himself trudging through. So let’s pull back the curtain on this icy, fluorescent nightmare and dig deep into why this isn’t just a tip of the cap to Lucas’ 1971 sci-fi classic—it’s one of Andor’s most ruthless storytelling weapons.
White Walls, Blank Faces: A Design That Screams ‘THX 1138’
Let’s kick things off with the visuals. The instant Cassian steps into Narkina 5, your eyes get hit with the most aggressive minimalist style in any Star Wars location—ever. We’re talking blinding white from the floor to the ceiling. No cozy accents, no comforting décor, just a monotone tundra that echoes Lucas’ THX 1138 corridors.
And it’s not just about the color. The prison’s design—those endless echoing hallways, the modular workstations, and zero sense of home—comes straight from Lucas’ late-1960s notebook of dystopian horrors. Production designer Luke Hull didn’t drop these flourishes by accident. In interviews (fandom.com), Hull spilled that Martin Ruhe’s cinematography and the team’s lighting choices aimed for maximum “clinical horror,” much like Lucas’ original vision.
Honestly, you could swap out Cassian’s jumpsuit for THX’s white coveralls and no one would bat an eyelid. Both worlds use chilled-white environments not just to “look cool,” but to strip prisoners (and viewers) of individuality. In Narkina 5, faces blur into the background. Rows of bald, pale men hammer away silently, becoming part of the architecture. Sounds familiar, right?
Uniforms: Camouflage for Despair
Costume designer Michael Wilkinson had his work cut out for him on this one. Narkina 5’s prisoner garb—a brain-shocking combo of pure white with aggro orange accents—does two jobs at once. First, the orange pops against the walls, making it impossible for anyone to hide or blend in. Second, the sea of white turns every man into just another meat-cog spinning the Imperial machine. (And this is pure Empire logic: why not erase humanity with a bucket of bleach and a streak of warning orange?)
Wilkinson directly linked this to the way uniforms in THX 1138 functioned as camouflage for the soul. Prisons, both on Narkina 5 and in Lucas’ dystopia, are all about conformity and visibility. When any spark of personality vanishes, control becomes almost too easy.
Factory Floors and Forced Labor: The Dystopian Engine Room
Let’s talk about that humming, buzzing, glaring factory floor. Cassian and his new “work family” find themselves endlessly assembling machinery—a process as void of meaning as it is of color. The set design took heavy inspiration from Lucas’ movie, where nameless drones churn out more drones, all filmed with clinical angles and relentless superficial perfection.
Andor’s creative team, according to Fandom, chose polished, non-slip floors to reflect a kind of “showroom deathtrap” vibe. The electrified floors are a literal shocker, but also a nod to THX 1138’s constant threat of electronic punishment. In both stories, a quiet buzz means life. A sudden zap means agony. It’s a masterclass in using architecture to keep prisoners on edge.
Every single sound on Narkina 5 shouts power and control. Giant sirens, boots on tile, and that constant, mechanical hum remind prisoners that anything organic—their thoughts, their conversations, even their heartbeats—don’t matter here. The Empire (and Lucas’ dystopian authorities) want only quiet, reliable automatons. So, machinery whirs on. Hope doesn’t stand a chance.
Soundscape: Silence, Sirens, and the Death of Individuality
If you thought the sound design seemed intentionally creepy, you’re spot on. Tony Gilroy’s team ditched the sweeping space opera music in favor of relentless ambient industrial noise. It’s bold. You can barely remember a score during Cassian’s time behind bars—just the thrum of machines and the echo of orders.
Music is gone. Comfort is gone. Now, all that’s left is a mechanical drone, echoing the dehumanizing soundscape of THX 1138. In that film, authority figures speak in clipped, robotic sentences. The halls ring—or, more accurately, fail to ring—with absence. No laughter, no stories, nothing but cold efficiency and fear.
Even fans on Reddit pore over these details. One recurring meme: “Is this a prison or an Apple Store? Wait, don’t answer.” Star Wars watchers have consistently clocked the way Narkina 5’s sound design warps viewers into feeling Cassian’s panic and isolation. Every beep and whirr transforms him—and us—into another number.
Cassian’s Dissolving Identity: The Human Cost of Bleach-White Walls
So, let’s talk Cassian. It’s not just the set dressing; it’s what it does to him. Narkina 5 doesn’t just jail bodies. It erases names, memories, and, eventually, fighting spirit. Cassian and the other prisoners lose everything that made them individuals. They’re forced to keep pace with the factory’s rhythm or face the painful wrath of electrified floors.
Every episode in the arc grinds Cassian down, swapping out his defiance for numb obedience. “Best out of seven, table five!”—the only spark of rivalry left is about survival, not rebellion. We watch as a rebel-in-the-making becomes just another cog, his fire dimmed by monotony and terror. It’s a clear parallel to Lucas’ THX protagonist, who becomes so conditioned he can barely recognize freedom when it comes for him.
Over time, Cassian’s arc transforms into something more than survival. He watches Kino Loy realize that the floor’s security is a lie, that hope is possible. The moment the prisoners band together to revolt, the sterile spell of the space finally cracks. Cassian’s spark flickers back to life. Suddenly, amidst all that white, individuality returns with a vengeance.
The Big Picture: Why the Homage Matters
Let’s get honest. Any old show can sprinkle a reference and call it a day. Andor does more. By channeling Lucas’ THX 1138, the creative team adds insane layers to Cassian’s journey. Narkina 5 isn’t just a throwback, it’s a crucible—one that grinds down identity and almost breaks our hero.
Fans and critics keep returning to these episodes for a reason. The design isn’t just a sci-fi flex; it creates an atmosphere so suffocating that every step feels heavier. The Empire’s prison industrial complex becomes a living character, one that gropes at your nerves, chills your bones, and gives you a fresh reason to despise Palpatine’s regime. Albino tiles and all.
Yep, This Is How You Do Star Wars Easter Eggs
It’d be easy to miss these connections if you weren’t looking, but once you spot them, the experience changes. Suddenly, Cassian’s escape feels bigger than one man slipping free—it’s about reclaiming humanity in a system built to erase it. Lucas’ fingerprints are all over this arc, but Gilroy’s slow-burn approach turns those references into emotional warfare.
Narkina 5’s endless, blinding walls don’t just echo THX 1138—they help us feel what Cassian is losing, right up until he chooses to fight back. That’s how you sneak one of sci-fi cinema’s greatest homages into a galaxy far, far away and make it count in 2025. If you ask any fan with a thing for deep-dives, you’ll get the same answer: this is Star Wars world-building at its raddest and rawest.
