The Greatest Star Wars Moments Of 2022

2022 was full of more surprises than a trash-talking son of Skywalker, and that's just on the "Star Wars" side of things — to say nothing of the strangeness that unfolded in our own galaxy these last 12 months.

Case in point? The long-awaited Boba Fett "solo" project didn't really hit its stride until another character hijacked Boba's turn to have the spotlight, the best "Star Wars" releases of the year were a prequel to a prequel and a sequel to a prequel, and Studio Ghibli casually dropped an animated Grogu short like it was no big deal. It was also a period of vindication for members of the "Dooku Was (Mostly) Right" club, as well as one that saw the residents of a galaxy far, far away drop s-bombs, have casual sex, and get hassled by their parents about their lack of job prospects. Turns out, "Star Wars" people actually are just like us.

As the wait continues for the next movie (whatever it might be), it fell to a motley pack of "Star Wars" series on Disney+ to give everyone their fix of space wizard duels, freedom fighters battling fascists, and mercenaries eking out a living in 2022. At first, the franchise stumbled in ways both familiar and new to the Disney era (which turned 10 years old back in October), only for things to turn around in the latter half, culminating in some of the most radical "Star Wars" storytelling ever. In light of this, let's revisit the greatest "Star Wars" moments from the last 12 months — not only in terms of how they evolved the property for the better, but also how they kept it relevant to the real world.

Like those in the "Flash Gordon" serials and "John Carter" novels of olde, the non-humans of "Star Wars" often took on the form of thinly-veiled racist caricatures in its pre-Disney days — and I'm not just referring to the Neimoidians, either. As the property has diversified with regard to casting (both in terms of race and gender), so too have its alien characters gained greater dimensionality, and nowhere is that more apparent than with the Tusken Raiders. Their cultural practices and beliefs were handled sensitively on "The Mandalorian" before being further fleshed out on "The Book of Boba Fett," courtesy of a sub-plot that sees the eponymous bounty hunter taken prisoner by Tatooine's native people before being accepted by one of their tribes.

The show's second episode, "The Tribes of Tatooine," ends with the Tuskens welcoming Boba into their ranks with a ceremony that's moving on its own yet takes on even greater emotional weight when you recall that the young Boba's arc on the "Clone Wars" TV show was all about his search for family. It doesn't fully subvert the "Sci-fi Cowboys and Native Americans" western motif (à la "Avatar") and one could argue the rest of the series fails to realize the potential of this story thread. Even so, it's an affecting moment that shows "Star Wars" is capable of correcting its past mistakes.

"The Book of Boba Fett" was, in this writer's humble opinion, an interesting yet muddled exercise in shared universe storytelling that would've been better off as either a shorter and more focused limited series or as a subplot on "The Mandalorian." It did, however, succeed in reminding everyone why Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal) is now our favorite laconic Mandalorian helmet-wearing bounty hunter.

Din made his grand return in the show's aptly-titled fifth episode, "Return of the Mandalorian," which finds our beloved "Mando" foundling tracking down and slaying the Klatooinian boss of a meat-packing facility, Kaba Baiz. Their tussle is the type of lean, mean action scene we've come to expect from "The Mandalorian" and its space western meets samurai movie vibe. But it also remains true to Din's working-class code of honor by having the character — having only just killed and decapitated his quarry — offer Kaba's startled workers whatever New Republic credits they feel they're owed by their late employer in exchange for letting him pass. It's that ethical flexibility that makes Din a fitting "Star Wars" protagonist for our times. That and the fact that he remains an utter himbo who might've walked away injury-free from the whole thing, had he not sliced his leg with his own weapon.

For as much as "Star Wars" has moved away from its pulpy sci-fi serial roots under Disney, it's good to know there's still room in the franchise for something as inherently silly as Boba Fett (Temuera Morrison) riding a rancor Bronco-style around the streets of Mos Espa. 

Executive producer Robert Rodriguez's direction was lacking for most of his episodes in "The Book of Boba Fett" (the less said about the world's slowest speeder chase scene, the better), but he brought the goods in the show's finale, "In the Name of Honor." The episode's city-leveling monster rodeo has just the right amount of 1990s B-movie throwback charm, pitting Boba and his loyal pet against the Pyke Syndicate and its Scorpenek droids in a battle royale — battle rancor? — that's spatially cohesive without also being languorous or low-energy like most of the other Rodriguez-helmed action scenes on the series. Yes, modern "Star Wars" can work like gangbusters when it's being serious and grounded (as we saw in 2022 with "Andor"), but the key to its longevity might be allowing room for a wide range of tones and styles, including plain ol' ridiculous-fun moments like this.

It's to Ewan McGregor's credit as an actor that he imbues his scenes as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the "Star Wars" prequel trilogy with a pathos that's otherwise lacking from George Lucas' politically prescient yet weirdly stilted films. This is also the reason why fans spent years beating the drum for a midquel centered on the Jedi Knight during his years living in exile on Tatooine, the memory of his pupil's fall to the dark side still a fresh wound in his mind. And sure enough, McGregor proved more than ready for the challenge on "Obi-Wan Kenobi," delivering the type of eloquently contained performance where a simple glance says more about the maelstrom of emotions his character is wrestling with than any amount of dialogue could.

While there are plenty of great moments to choose from in terms of McGregor's work on the show, the one that's stayed with me the most is his exchange with the rogue Jedi Nari (Benny Safdie). The weary yet firm resolve with which Obi-Wan tells his fellow fugitive to stay hidden if he wants to survive ("The fight is done. We lost.") makes him feel more human than almost the entirety of the prequels by itself. This variety of "Sad Old Hero" story can be polarizing in the context of "Star Wars" — just ask Rian Johnson! — but just as there's no light without the dark, one must grapple with the power of hopelessness before they can fully grasp the value of hope.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it, as the saying goes. Sure enough, going back to the "Lone Wolf and Cub" formula that worked wonders for "The Mandalorian" served "Obi-Wan Kenobi" well, with the added twist being that the "cub" in this case is a young Leia (Vivien Lyra Blair), a character who was long overdue more attention on the live-action side of the "Star Wars" universe.

Leia's inclusion in "Obi-Wan Kenobi" serves multiple purposes, not least of which is to emphasize that the other Skywalker sibling is just as essential to the Skywalker Saga as her brother. But as much as she drives the show's plot, the spirited princess of Alderaan is more than just a glorified MacGuffin who delights in talking back to her gruff, hardened guardian. The series is all about Leia coming to recognize not only the privilege afforded to her by her royal stature, but also that she doesn't have to choose between fighting with a blaster and fighting to better the galaxy through political diplomacy. It's a satisfying arc that's symbolized perfectly by the montage of her getting dressed in the series' finale, complete with the holster of the late Imperial-turned-Rebel Tala (Indira Varma).

One of my least favorite "Star Wars" tropes is "Character who fell to the dark side dies after a single decent act." It's an oddly backward approach to the concept of redemption that, at worst, seems to suggest the best thing a person can do after seeing the error of their ways is to die a noble death rather than lead a better life. You can imagine my relief, then, when "Obi-Wan Kenobi" subverted that motif with the Inquisitor Reva.

A former Youngling who watched Anakin Skywalker murder her fellow Jedi-in-training during Order 66, Reva's villainy felt like a bit of an act from the get-go, which made it all the more fitting when the show revealed it was exactly that. By that same token, Moses Ingram does a top-notch job of showing the ever-growing cracks in Reva's armor with her performance, capping off with the riveting scene in which she finds herself unable to kill a young Luke in the series' finale. When the crestfallen Reva asks Obi-Wan if she has become Darth Vader all the same, he gently replies, "No. You have chosen not to. Who you become now, that is up to you."

Give me a moment like that — one that argues the best thing anyone can do is to keep on trying to do better (on top of, in Reva's case, learning to show herself the compassion she deserves for all she's endured) — over some nonsense about how "You can only redeem so much" any day.

The duality of nature is a theme that Dave Filoni has hit upon time and time again in his "Star Wars" work, but he's rarely distilled the topic quite as efficiently as he does in the first episode of "Tales of the Jedi." Titled, appropriately, "Life and Death," there are moments when the dialogue-sparse outing feels like the secret origin story for San from "Princess Mononoke," only with an infant Ahsoka at the center of the action. It's not at all the first time Filoni has worn his Hayao Miyazaki influences on his sleeve as a writer. It does, however, get at the heart of a philosophical idea (that one cannot overpower or control nature, one can only try to live in harmony with it) that informs so much of his perspective on the Force and how it functions.

When the episode closes out with Gantika (Toks Olagundoye) declaring that "Ahsoka is Jedi," it's more than a statement about the Togruta girl's newfound ability to tap into the Force. It's an observation that the essence of the Jedi is their fine-tuned connection to nature, not their skills as warriors in combat. And what could be more "Star Wars" than that?

A social revolutionary who was right to speak out against the ineffectuality of the Galactic Senate and the Jedi Order's complicity in the corrosion of democracy in the Old Republic, Count Dooku has always been one of the more tragic figures in "Star Wars." Over the span of three 15-minute episodes, "Tales of the Jedi" illustrates the extent of this tragedy in a way that no other live-action film or animated series has managed to before it, lending a rich air of gravitas to the saga of this particular Fallen Jedi. But as devastating as it is to watch Dooku solidify his turn to the dark side, it's a subtler, quieter moment that's really stuck with me.

Upon learning of the death of his former Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn in the episode "The Sith Lord," Dooku (Corey Burton) stands alone gazing at the Great Tree near the Jedi Temple, recalling how Qui-Gon was fascinated by the plant as a boy. Having been born on the city-planet Coruscant "he knew nothing like it," Dooku notes to an onlooking Jedi Master Yaddle. It's a moment that says so much with so little, like how the Jedi Order has been hamstrung by its diminished ties to nature over time. But most of all, it's the understated sense of sadness (coupled with the fact that, as a member of the Jedi Council, Dooku isn't granted the room he needs to properly grieve) that makes this scene so impactful.

Part of what makes Ahsoka Tano such an endlessly captivating character is her resilience. Despite being driven away from the Jedi Order by her disillusionment with the Jedi Council, the trauma of enduring and surviving Order 66, and the loss of her treasured Jedi mentor Anakin Skywalker (not to mention her horror and heartbreak upon discovering what he has become), Ahsoka always finds a way to keep moving forward. And yet, the reason it's so compelling when she does is because she's also given the space to be lost for a while after each new hardship.

Her arc in "Tales of the Jedi" is no exception. The series' final episode, "Resolve," avoids rushing her journey from keeping her head down as a hired farm hand to rejoining the fight against the newly-risen Galactic Empire. It's what makes it so satisfying when, by the last scene, Ahsoka (Ashley Eckstein) accepts that the only way she can truly begin to heal is by helping others in the galaxy and picking up her lightsaber again. The look of, well, resolve on her face when she does once again reminds us that we, too, have a responsibility to help others in times of collective suffering, no matter much pain we ourselves are dealing with.

"Rogue One: A Star Wars Story" remains my favorite Disney-era "Star Wars" movie for the way it zeroes in on characters who are not destined to be remembered by history as "legends," but those who helped clear the way for such "legends" to save the day. Its prequel series, "Andor," has only hit on this motif even harder, showing the pivotal role the people closest to Cassian Andor (those who are never mentioned, much less seen in the Skywalker Saga) played in guiding his journey from cynical survivalist to earnest Rebel. And it's not just his family and friends, either, but those whom history is likely to forget about completely. Yes, it's time to talk about Kino Loy.

Played by Andy Serkis (who's splendid as ever), Kino has deluded himself into thinking he can beat the Imperials at their own game by working himself to the bone and obeying their every whim as a floor manager at the prison where he resides on Narkina 5. An all too apt parable for our own real-life prison industrial complex, the Narkina arc on "Andor" climaxes when Kino — having finally seen the light — aids Cassian in executing his escape plan, even delivering a rousing speech that inspires their fellow prisoners to join them in their breakout. If you don't find yourself wanting to chant "One way out!" with the rest of the escapees as they flee the facility, you may want to double-check your pulse

We like to tell ourselves that acting selflessly and doing the right thing is mutually beneficial for us, and a lot of the time it is. But what about the times when it's not? When fighting for justice means sacrificing our own individual sense of happiness, if not our lives? It's a dilemma that "Rogue One" tackles head-on to moving effect, yet it's also one that "Andor" takes to a grayer, pricklier place with Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård, bringing his A-game to the role).

The cunning Rebel commander knows it's far easier to make a martyr of yourself than it is to use others in service of the greater good. And yet, he does it anyway, knowing he must make his mind a "sunless space" so that others will no longer have to endure injustice and cruelty at the hands of the Galactic Empire. "I'm damned for what I do," he readily admits to his informat at the ISB, Lonni Jung (Robert Emms). His spiritual angst seeps into every word of his confession, as does his begrudging awareness that there are much bigger stakes than his personal contentment. It's a haunting moment that's all the more powerful juxtaposed with Cassian and Kino's prison break on Narkina in the same episode.

Forget "One way out." For someone like Luthen, there's not even that.

To quote screenwriter Aaron Stewart-Ahn, "Maybe the best message I've heard from a TV show ever is f*** lightsabers, get a brick."

The death of Cassian's adopted mother Maarva was as crushing as it was inevitable on "Andor," as were the reactions from those closest to her (be it the world's bestest boy B2-EMO crying to see her again or the silent anguish with which Cassian receives the news). In a move that allows her to take back control of her own narrative from beyond the grave, Maarva has her ever-faithful droid companion record a hologram message to show at her funeral, calling for the people of Ferrix to not only make their peace with her passing, but to actively take up arms against the Galactic Empire. It's one of the all-time greatest "Star Wars" speeches, with Fiona Shaw doing a magnificent job of delivering every shift in Maarva's tone, from amicability with her death to her righteous anger and regret at having too often kowtowed to the Imperials in life.

Would this fabulous moment — in which Maarva somewhat literally joins the fight when Brasso (Joplin Sibtain) uses the brick made from her remains to smash an Imperial in the face — have been ever better if Shaw had capped it off with an f-bomb as originally intended? Absolutely! But it's still pretty darn terrific without that.

One of the themes "Star Wars" kept coming back to again and again in 2022 is that it's okay to be lost in times of darkness, so long as you never completely give up on hope and rise to the occasion when it presents itself. It's as relevant a message for the times we live in as any other I can think of and speaks to what "Star Wars" does at its best: Allow us to wrestle with our anxieties and troubles in the present in order to find a more promising path forward.

Perhaps no moment embodies this idea better than when Cassian (Diego Luna) listens to the late Nemik's rebel manifesto on "Andor." Nemik's (Alex Lawther) recorded speech is full of poetic observations about the fragile nature of oppression and how "Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks." It's a message that "Star Wars" has been preaching since its early days, going back to Leia telling her captors in "A New Hope" that the more they tighten their grip, "the more star systems will slip through your fingers." Yet, as Nemik's declaration points out, grand gestures aren't in and of themselves needed to start bringing about real change in the face of fascism and inequality:

"One single thing will break the siege. Remember this. Try."