Obi-Wan Kenobi TV series brings excitement to Disney+. It dives into life of Jedi Master after Revenge of the Sith. He keeps an eye on young Luke Skywalker in sandy Tatooine. Expect classic Star Wars faces and some fresh ones too. It’s going to be a wild journey, trust me!

Meet the characters from Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Okay, Obi-Wan is that quietly burning kind of hero — wise, tired, and full of tiny, bitter jokes that somehow make him more human, not less. He’s the classic watchful guardian, all restraint and old vows, but also the one who will lose it in a flash if someone threatens what he loves (and yes, he totally has a spot in his mind for Tatooine sunsets). He hides a lot in routines — tea at dawn? humming to himself? — and there’s this strange mix of saintly patience and very specific, sudden rage, which is honestly endearing and terrifying. He feels like the last coherent page of a book everyone else tore up, and you can see every line of it on his face.

Anakin Skywalker

Anakin is molten charisma wrapped in a very fragile shell — brilliant, furious, loving too hard and hating himself a little for it, all at once. He’s a pilot, a warrior, a heart-smasher, and a tornado of contradictions (sensitive poet one minute, volcanic force the next — also probably hoards starfighters’ manuals, no joke). There’s this tragic magnetism to him, like watching lightning that remembers what it was before it struck; terrifying but you can’t look away. He smells faintly of ozone and bad decisions, and somehow you always suspect there’s a softer side that keeps getting stomped on.

Owen Lars

Owen is the grumpy-but-goodhearted farmer archetype, practical to a fault and allergic to drama — “no, we are not discussing destiny, we are repairing the moisture vaporator.” He’s stubborn, blunt, fiercely protective (impossibly so), and would rather fix a pipeline than listen to prophecy, which is both exasperating and kind of beautiful. He has this salt-of-the-earth vibe and probably owns three different pairs of the same gloves; also, rumor has it he hums lullabies when he thinks no one’s listening. Practical on the outside, secretly sentimental on the inside — yes, he definitely has a soft spot for kids and bad jokes.

Beru Lars

Beru is warmth in a world that’s mostly sand — steady, kind, quietly brave, the sort of person who patches wounds and morale in the same gesture. She’s practical (big on cooking and mending) but also unexpectedly sharp; don’t be fooled by the gentle smile, she will tell you when you’re being ridiculous. She likes little domestic things — mismatched spoons? a secret cookie recipe? — and yet she’s the backbone who actually keeps the whole household from falling apart. Soft but firm, comforting but no-nonsense, like a calm hearth that will roast you if you cross the line.

The Grand Inquisitor

The Grand Inquisitor is theatrical menace personified, all angular features, a voice that could peel paint, and a mood for dramatic entrances (he’s very into the whole “I will stare at you slowly” thing). He’s ruthless and utterly convinced of his own moral righteousness, which makes him scarier because he believes every terrible thing he does is necessary — also acrobatic with that weird double-bladed lightsaber move, like ballet with murder. There’s a subtle melancholy under the mask sometimes, like a guy who once had a playlist of soft things and then smashed his speakers; he’s disciplined and charismatic, and occasionally you catch him pausing like he remembers softer times. Obsessed with “order,” yet every so often he looks oddly lost, which is a delightful contradiction if you like your villains complicated.

Inquisitor Reva

Reva is raw, impulsive, and hungry for a place at the big table — she’s got this scrappy, streetwise energy that makes her unpredictable and slightly heartbreaking. She’s fast, ruthless, and kind of gleeful about proving herself, but she also has these small weird habits (seriously, she carves tiny almost-useless wooden sticks into lightsaber shapes when she’s thinking). Ambition and anger fuel her, but there’s also this sneaky, sometimes-soft sense of humor that pops up at the worst possible moments; she’ll laugh and then fight you to the death five minutes later. She’s wounded and wired, which makes her dangerous and oddly sympathetic, even when she does terrible things.

The Fifth Brother

The Fifth Brother is the quiet, methodical bruiser of the Inquisitors — not flashy, just efficient, and very much the “do the job” kind of menace. He’s stoic, a bit broody, and frighteningly good at being the immovable object in a fight; he’s the one who organizes the chaos with unnerving calm. Funny little detail: he might alphabetize his tools or keep a collection of tiny, very organized trinkets in his pocket (or maybe that’s my imagination), which contrasts with how brutal he can be. He’s the type who doesn’t need to grandstand; he’ll simply be there when the lights go out.