As soon as his bare arms debuted in The Acolyte Episode 5, Qimir/the Stranger (Manny Jacinto) secured his place in Star Wars canon as the sexiest villain known to mankind, or, truly, any species. Star Wars has seen no shortage of attractive actors, nor has it hesitated to expose flesh (for better or for worse). But aside from Star Wars: Episode VIII – The Last Jedi stoking the smoldering embers of Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) and Rey's (Daisy Ridley) chemistry, George Lucas's galaxy has lacked legitimate sexiness — an abundance of potential lying unutilized despite all those flowing robes, black gloves, and repressed feelings.
The women responsible for Episode 6 of The Acolyte — showrunner, creator, and episode co-writer Leslye Headland, co-writer Jocelyn Bioh, and director Hanelle M. Culpeppe — collectively said, “Couldn’t be me." In the aftermath of Episode 5's action-fueled bloodbath, its meditative, character-building follow-up has, to co-opt another space franchise's tagline, boldly gone where no one has gone before. Qimir intentionally serves self-possessed sensuality in a way no other character has yet been depicted or designed. Even better, within The Acolyte's pocket of the galaxy, the active horniness surrounding Qimir fulfills narrative functionality and facilitates his burgeoning enemies-to-lovers dynamic with Osha (Amandla Stenberg). For the second time, the push-pull, light-dark conflict at Star Wars's moral heart finds itself rendered through a romance — or, at least, a sexual attraction explicit enough that the thematic undertones are overtones. The Last Jedi walked so The Acolyte could run.
Qimir Makes the Dark Side's Seduction Sexual
When George Lucas launched Star Wars in 1977, he introduced some key vernacular: "seduced by the Dark Side." The linguistics surrounding Anakin Skywalker's fall from grace leave much to the imagination; viewers can conjure plentiful reasons why someone would find fear, anger, and violence intoxicating. Decades later, the prequel trilogy demonstrates just how frighteningly easily Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) exploits Anakin's (Hayden Christensen) vulnerabilities. Palpatine's arguments almost sound legitimate when they're delivered with his serene reason. His manipulations amount to an insidious psychological seduction.
The Acolyte's version of "seduced by the Dark Side" invites every interpretation of the word. Qimir introduces a calculated physicality that goes beyond a brooding shirtless man or women forced into exploitative costumes. He disrobes for a carefully edited swim, the shot of his scarred back cutting away right on the cusp of full nudity. Osha, however, sees everything. She approaches with vengeance in her eyes and a dagger in her hands — only to discover that Qimir knew she was stalking him. The same "Master" who never showed his face to Mae intentionally strips in front of Osha, and his mild joke about her "joining" him implants very specific ideas with very obvious connotations.
When Qimir slowly strides from the water without concealing himself, the startlingly steamy but deft pacing brings Bridgerton to mind: the deliberate intensity of Qimir's advance echoes the same kind of build-up preluding a passionate encounter. Hanelle M. Culpeppe's camera doesn't travel over those muscles that set the internet aflame, but centering Qimir's naked torso, which just happens to be on conveniently sunlight-dappled display, overwhelms the frame. The casual display seems to unsettle Osha even as she can't resist glancing him over. The surprise needle-sharp tension between protagonist and antagonist is heart-flutteringly palpable: a classic enemies-to-lovers scenario where unexpected desire complicates that existing hatred. The Acolyte strings a cord of electrifying tension and withholds the resolution — for now. The female gaze is female gazing.
'The Acolyte' Does Enemies-to-Lovers Right
On the emotional front, Qimir's little skinny-dip accentuates his vulnerability, a characteristic inapplicable to him before now. And in the face of unarmed and premeditated vulnerability, Qimir glides with measured assurance. Despite the vicious carnage he enacted just one episode prior, he's composed to the point of subdued. He approaches Osha without predation, comfortably asserting that she holds the power even though his established strength says otherwise. He skirts right on the edge of flirting: delivering amused smirks and extended eye contact while gazing up at Osha through his wet hair. Every sentence is some variation of intimate murmuring. Whenever Osha answers, she receives his unflinching focus. The deliberate pause before he lists "desire" as a powerful resource forbidden by the Jedi screams its implication from the rooftops.
For once, it's appropriate to use the term "unprecedented" here. Rey and Kylo's sexually charged empathy opened the door for this particular dynamic, but the onus was on Kylo to redeem himself; Rey's Dark Side temptation was never truly perilous. Qimir is openly smoldering and inviting for the same reasons that fictional bad boys (and bad girls) remain appealing: the fascinating dichotomy of someone capable of massacring Jedi and respectfully approaching his equal. Within one episode, The Acolyte maximizes its creative freedom through a narrative thread that's satisfying for its lack of ambiguity.
That said, modern writers play with the enemies-to-lovers template, a dynamic that's evolved throughout romance novel history and existed as long as fiction has. In Collider's exclusive conversation with Leslye Headland, the showrunner discussed their approach to Qimir and Osha's complex beginnings. "He cannot seem like an alpha male-y, intimidating — we know he's capable of that from 5 — but that cannot be his dynamic with her," Headland said. "It wouldn't make sense! We have to see this other side of him, and we have to see specifically the way he is with her." (A respectful villainous king? The "I volunteer as tribute" line forms behind me.)
The results of the female gaze shepherding an enemies-to-lovers scenario prove breathtaking. Qimir and Osha's chemistry is as crystal clear and suffocating as the heatwave currently tearing across the United States. Once he's clothed (now in symbolic white instead of full black), Qimir tries to establish an emotional tether with Osha. He acknowledges her longing for a lightsaber and claims to understand her anger and displacement. Being a power-seeking villain, however, Qimir pushes Osha's weakest buttons by harvesting the seeds of her existing apprehension over the Jedi code; he prompts her curiosity.
The physical and emotional seduction merge when Osha pulls away and Qimir seizes her forearm, the one still holding his lightsaber. Not only is one half of a couple grasping the other's arm a glorious trope, Qimir aims his lightsaber firmly against his chest with his other hand. Once Osha snaps, releasing her uninhibited fury with his red blade trembling at his throat, Qimir gently folds his hand over the same forearm he had grasped. Having urged the truth from her, he reassures Osha that he understands her pain. Her admission bridges between them the intimacy of shared experiences. They stare into one another's souls, and stare more, Qimir's hand remaining light — unimposing but present — on Osha's arm.
Dearest gentle readers, the Pride and Prejudice carriage scene has been replaced; Qimir now holds the trophy for the sexiest onscreen hand gesture. This is a seduction because Qimir fulfills the potential of the Dark Side's temptation in new ways; he's objectively attractive, he's the most brutal Sith this side of Vader, and he treats Osha as an equal while yearning for an elusive "power of two" connection. The impassioned yet sensitive tension mixes with explicitly heated horniness, and I need to stick my head in an ice bucket.
The Most Complex Villains Are the Sexiest, and 'The Acolyte's Qimir Fits the Bill
Given how easily Qimir disguised himself as an unassuming scoundrel, it's natural to assume that he intends to manipulate Osha. Even though we won't know every nuance until The Acolyte concludes, Headland's intentions with the "Oshamir" pairing refute that reading. She explained to Collider's Maggie Lovitt:
Weaponized muscles, wet hair, and soulful eyes are sexy. Willingly displayed vulnerability is hotter than the planet Venus. Unlike Kylo, a desperate lost boy at heart, Qimir's vulnerability feels self-aware. When he reveals with little fanfare that his Jedi Master literally stabbed him in the back, it invokes complicated sympathy and intrigue for Osha and the viewer; he's building a mystery Sarah McLachlan style. That said, Qimir has no intention of redeeming himself. He owns his defiant position and subtly offers the same acknowledgment to Osha: accepting her entire being instead of marking her as a shameful failed Jedi. The most compelling antagonists are those with empathetically human motivations enriched by an outsider's perspective. Qimir's gloatingly ruthless choices — actions he blames on the Jedi — make him riveting. The more complex a villain is, especially with a chef's knife jawline, the hotter they are.
'The Rise of Skywalker' Failed Reylo, but 'The Acolyte' Could Succeed
If Osha indulges the Dark Side in some fashion, it seems she'll do so with her eyes open. Frankly, that's sexy as all get out, too. The direction Osha and Qimir seem headed is what I wanted from Rey and Kylo Ren and fundamentally couldn't have: a complicated, angry woman embracing power and freedom through villainy. The Acolyte exists in the gray areas outside the Skywalker saga. If Osha finds herself in the Force by embracing her darkest instincts, so be it — preferably, while also embracing Qimir. How perfect is it that The Acolyte, a Star Wars series crafted by women, introduces the franchise's most simmering moments to date with audacious awareness and aplomb. Long may the Darth Biceps and Oshamir agendas reign.
The women responsible for Episode 6 of The Acolyte — showrunner, creator, and episode co-writer Leslye Headland, co-writer Jocelyn Bioh, and director Hanelle M. Culpeppe — collectively said, “Couldn’t be me." In the aftermath of Episode 5's action-fueled bloodbath, its meditative, character-building follow-up has, to co-opt another space franchise's tagline, boldly gone where no one has gone before. Qimir intentionally serves self-possessed sensuality in a way no other character has yet been depicted or designed. Even better, within The Acolyte's pocket of the galaxy, the active horniness surrounding Qimir fulfills narrative functionality and facilitates his burgeoning enemies-to-lovers dynamic with Osha (Amandla Stenberg). For the second time, the push-pull, light-dark conflict at Star Wars's moral heart finds itself rendered through a romance — or, at least, a sexual attraction explicit enough that the thematic undertones are overtones. The Last Jedi walked so The Acolyte could run.
Qimir Makes the Dark Side's Seduction Sexual
When George Lucas launched Star Wars in 1977, he introduced some key vernacular: "seduced by the Dark Side." The linguistics surrounding Anakin Skywalker's fall from grace leave much to the imagination; viewers can conjure plentiful reasons why someone would find fear, anger, and violence intoxicating. Decades later, the prequel trilogy demonstrates just how frighteningly easily Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) exploits Anakin's (Hayden Christensen) vulnerabilities. Palpatine's arguments almost sound legitimate when they're delivered with his serene reason. His manipulations amount to an insidious psychological seduction.
The Acolyte's version of "seduced by the Dark Side" invites every interpretation of the word. Qimir introduces a calculated physicality that goes beyond a brooding shirtless man or women forced into exploitative costumes. He disrobes for a carefully edited swim, the shot of his scarred back cutting away right on the cusp of full nudity. Osha, however, sees everything. She approaches with vengeance in her eyes and a dagger in her hands — only to discover that Qimir knew she was stalking him. The same "Master" who never showed his face to Mae intentionally strips in front of Osha, and his mild joke about her "joining" him implants very specific ideas with very obvious connotations.
When Qimir slowly strides from the water without concealing himself, the startlingly steamy but deft pacing brings Bridgerton to mind: the deliberate intensity of Qimir's advance echoes the same kind of build-up preluding a passionate encounter. Hanelle M. Culpeppe's camera doesn't travel over those muscles that set the internet aflame, but centering Qimir's naked torso, which just happens to be on conveniently sunlight-dappled display, overwhelms the frame. The casual display seems to unsettle Osha even as she can't resist glancing him over. The surprise needle-sharp tension between protagonist and antagonist is heart-flutteringly palpable: a classic enemies-to-lovers scenario where unexpected desire complicates that existing hatred. The Acolyte strings a cord of electrifying tension and withholds the resolution — for now. The female gaze is female gazing.
'The Acolyte' Does Enemies-to-Lovers Right
On the emotional front, Qimir's little skinny-dip accentuates his vulnerability, a characteristic inapplicable to him before now. And in the face of unarmed and premeditated vulnerability, Qimir glides with measured assurance. Despite the vicious carnage he enacted just one episode prior, he's composed to the point of subdued. He approaches Osha without predation, comfortably asserting that she holds the power even though his established strength says otherwise. He skirts right on the edge of flirting: delivering amused smirks and extended eye contact while gazing up at Osha through his wet hair. Every sentence is some variation of intimate murmuring. Whenever Osha answers, she receives his unflinching focus. The deliberate pause before he lists "desire" as a powerful resource forbidden by the Jedi screams its implication from the rooftops.
For once, it's appropriate to use the term "unprecedented" here. Rey and Kylo's sexually charged empathy opened the door for this particular dynamic, but the onus was on Kylo to redeem himself; Rey's Dark Side temptation was never truly perilous. Qimir is openly smoldering and inviting for the same reasons that fictional bad boys (and bad girls) remain appealing: the fascinating dichotomy of someone capable of massacring Jedi and respectfully approaching his equal. Within one episode, The Acolyte maximizes its creative freedom through a narrative thread that's satisfying for its lack of ambiguity.
That said, modern writers play with the enemies-to-lovers template, a dynamic that's evolved throughout romance novel history and existed as long as fiction has. In Collider's exclusive conversation with Leslye Headland, the showrunner discussed their approach to Qimir and Osha's complex beginnings. "He cannot seem like an alpha male-y, intimidating — we know he's capable of that from 5 — but that cannot be his dynamic with her," Headland said. "It wouldn't make sense! We have to see this other side of him, and we have to see specifically the way he is with her." (A respectful villainous king? The "I volunteer as tribute" line forms behind me.)
The results of the female gaze shepherding an enemies-to-lovers scenario prove breathtaking. Qimir and Osha's chemistry is as crystal clear and suffocating as the heatwave currently tearing across the United States. Once he's clothed (now in symbolic white instead of full black), Qimir tries to establish an emotional tether with Osha. He acknowledges her longing for a lightsaber and claims to understand her anger and displacement. Being a power-seeking villain, however, Qimir pushes Osha's weakest buttons by harvesting the seeds of her existing apprehension over the Jedi code; he prompts her curiosity.
The physical and emotional seduction merge when Osha pulls away and Qimir seizes her forearm, the one still holding his lightsaber. Not only is one half of a couple grasping the other's arm a glorious trope, Qimir aims his lightsaber firmly against his chest with his other hand. Once Osha snaps, releasing her uninhibited fury with his red blade trembling at his throat, Qimir gently folds his hand over the same forearm he had grasped. Having urged the truth from her, he reassures Osha that he understands her pain. Her admission bridges between them the intimacy of shared experiences. They stare into one another's souls, and stare more, Qimir's hand remaining light — unimposing but present — on Osha's arm.
Dearest gentle readers, the Pride and Prejudice carriage scene has been replaced; Qimir now holds the trophy for the sexiest onscreen hand gesture. This is a seduction because Qimir fulfills the potential of the Dark Side's temptation in new ways; he's objectively attractive, he's the most brutal Sith this side of Vader, and he treats Osha as an equal while yearning for an elusive "power of two" connection. The impassioned yet sensitive tension mixes with explicitly heated horniness, and I need to stick my head in an ice bucket.
The Most Complex Villains Are the Sexiest, and 'The Acolyte's Qimir Fits the Bill
Given how easily Qimir disguised himself as an unassuming scoundrel, it's natural to assume that he intends to manipulate Osha. Even though we won't know every nuance until The Acolyte concludes, Headland's intentions with the "Oshamir" pairing refute that reading. She explained to Collider's Maggie Lovitt:
"The relationship between Lo and Jen in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was an influence in the writer's room. We referenced that relationship over and over again. The intentional parallel is that they are equals and their relationship is earned through mutual vulnerability, not intimidation or manipulation. [...] I think he's telling her the truth."
Weaponized muscles, wet hair, and soulful eyes are sexy. Willingly displayed vulnerability is hotter than the planet Venus. Unlike Kylo, a desperate lost boy at heart, Qimir's vulnerability feels self-aware. When he reveals with little fanfare that his Jedi Master literally stabbed him in the back, it invokes complicated sympathy and intrigue for Osha and the viewer; he's building a mystery Sarah McLachlan style. That said, Qimir has no intention of redeeming himself. He owns his defiant position and subtly offers the same acknowledgment to Osha: accepting her entire being instead of marking her as a shameful failed Jedi. The most compelling antagonists are those with empathetically human motivations enriched by an outsider's perspective. Qimir's gloatingly ruthless choices — actions he blames on the Jedi — make him riveting. The more complex a villain is, especially with a chef's knife jawline, the hotter they are.
'The Rise of Skywalker' Failed Reylo, but 'The Acolyte' Could Succeed
If Osha indulges the Dark Side in some fashion, it seems she'll do so with her eyes open. Frankly, that's sexy as all get out, too. The direction Osha and Qimir seem headed is what I wanted from Rey and Kylo Ren and fundamentally couldn't have: a complicated, angry woman embracing power and freedom through villainy. The Acolyte exists in the gray areas outside the Skywalker saga. If Osha finds herself in the Force by embracing her darkest instincts, so be it — preferably, while also embracing Qimir. How perfect is it that The Acolyte, a Star Wars series crafted by women, introduces the franchise's most simmering moments to date with audacious awareness and aplomb. Long may the Darth Biceps and Oshamir agendas reign.
