"The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman." - from King Lear
What is it about charm that is so... charming?
I've noticed is that we tend to respond to someone's personality before we respond to their morality.
Henry V (from Shakespeare), the inspiring war hero and romancer of the princess of France, has charm in spades. Even in Henry IV, back when he is unwilling to man up and take on his responsibilities as future king, he is charming as a scoundrel. Scoundrel seems to be the ambiguous word we give someone of loose morality whom we love dearly anyway. We don't agree with everything they do, but we adore them because they are funny or witty or even sarcastic. Han Solo pops into mind. He was unwilling to fight for the noble cause of the rebels (at first) and yet we loved him because he “charmed” us. A charming villain can lead many to their deaths, as I humbly suggest that Henry V did. For all the charm of St. Crispin's speech, were the lives lost really worth the small territories they were fighting the French over?
On the other side of the fence we have Forest Gump. He has zero charm, and his personality is sweet but too “inside the lines” to appeal. And yet that is precisely what should appeal. Part of the story is Penny realizing that her bad boy loves were self-destructive. There is also Sam from The Lord of the Rings. While some people do love him, those with an affinity for “the bad boy” easily feel he is too boring.
What I am getting at is that we are good people. The characters who love these evil characters are good people. And yet, I'd wager that in nearly every heart there is the understanding of what it means to love the charming villain.
There are perhaps three reasons for this.
1. The villain is looking for love.
Despite all the bad he's done, and we're not condoning it, he's really just looking for love. This motive for loving the bad boy (or girl) I suspect is actually healthy because in real life it's often true. Seeing beyond someone's deeds and into their heart can provide compassion. Compassion will then seek to redeem or rescue the villain from their own deeds rather than to seek revenge on them. We see Snow White and Prince Charming are capable of this when they offer forgiveness and even acceptance to the Evil Queen in Once Upon A Time.
People who are acting out of pain can do terrible things. They must sometimes be met with understanding before the consequences can provide confirmation that they need to change.
This impulse becomes destructive when we trust “the villain” (or the person in our lives who is hurting us or others) just because we understand them. My love for Loki does not go this far. He's definitely my favorite bad boy, but he's also caused a lot of destruction. I would never trust him even though I love him. (We will come back to this point in a moment.)
2. They obscure their villainy in charm.
Nobody loves Voldemort. But a zinger like “You just decapitated your grandfather” from Loki (after Thor clumsily flies his ship into a statue) has mass appeal. It's easy to forget he killed hundreds in New York last year. And yet when Jane slaps him, he responds, “I like her,” and we almost forget that he is not apologizing because he's obscured the issue with a red herring. In this case, it's a comment about her feisty-ness, which we love too, giving us something in common with Loki. Sneaky.
3. Perhaps THE villain is not really A villain.
I've noticed that motives are easily overlooked by both sides of the fence.
I would rather see someone have to make a no-win decision like the Winchesters often have to do in Supernatural than see someone do something “good” like “go to church” for the wrong reasons. It's easy to say that killing is wrong and going to church is right, but aren't the motives more important? If we know someone is killing to save others from a monster or going to church to maintain a coveted social standing in society, doesn't that change things a little bit?
In cases like this, the villain and hero archetypes can be called into question. These are my favorite stories. Draco having to choose between saving his family by killing Dumbledore OR saving Dumbledore at the price of his family – that right there is a no-win decision. You can't call him a villain until you look closer. The fact that he doesn't kill Dumbledore makes him – not a hero – but not a villain either. However, Draco is also a bully and delighted in the importance of being cast as a main player in Voldemort's scheme. The character is full of both flaws and virtues, which make him human.
There is a temptation on both sides of the fence to care only about the deeds and nothing for the motives. I've sensed it in “good people” who would like me to do “normal good people things” for no apparent reason. I'm not really wanting to have a discussion on this particular topic right now, but as a case in point, it does not say in the Bible that you must read your Bible EVERY DAY. It can be a good thing done with the right motives, but what if I'm doing it just because you told me to? That is partially defeating the point. The point could be something along the lines of “honoring God” or “remembering him daily” and as personal convictions these will do very well. I am disturbed by the willingness of some people to press on others a certain “good thing” which they want to see me doing whether I'm doing it for the right motives or not. I think that is very short sighted and can in some cases be rather damaging.
Let me continue my illustration one more step, just for the sake of discussion. Perhaps the teen being ordered to read his Bible every day finds that he is not of the personality where this is helpful to him. Perhaps it feels restrictive and he comes to dread it every day. Now a well of beautiful, clean water which may help him when he is down has become to him a duty. Now where does he have to go when he desires or needs clean water? He may well go somewhere else, perhaps because he feels “bad enough as it is” and does not want to do something else he feels ordered to do.
So with motives in mind, sometimes we love the villain because he's doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons.
Say a person must steal to have the money for his son's life-saving surgery. That is a pretty black and white situation for the human heart – but where should he stand in justice? Should he not be prosecuted because the judge “understands” him?
In real life, people act only out of Love or Fear. This principle, found in Beyond Consequences, Logic, and Control, resonates with my experience in life so far. If this is true, than all actions of all humans are a (sometimes distorted) cry for love. We hit this point earlier. But I would like to consider then that not all characterizations are necessarily human, by these standards. If to be human means to be acting out of Love or Fear, all heroes and villains must have actions rooted in Love or Fear. Therefore I consider a badly characterized villain (or hero) to be one in which we cannot see a motive, and futhermore a motive which is usually rooted in Love or Fear. I cannot find a motive for Malekith, the villain in Thor 2, so I submit him as an example of an archetype of evil, a character who is not actually human – he is 2D.
All characters that aspire to be “human” must have their motives rooted in Love or Fear, which is “a cry for love,” which is in itself the desire for a purely good thing.
I therefore submit to you that there is no such thing as pure evil.
If so, there is no evil equivalent to Jesus. Jesus is pure good, but there is no foil that is pure evil. Even Satan is not pure evil – he is just the most twisted of them all that was once good. I'm more and more convinced of this as I read Paradise Lost and process Satan as a real character instead of an archetype of evil. I don't think archetypes exist anywhere in real life, except in Jesus.
And yet we have archetypes in much of literature, but never more so than in fairy tales. I think fairy tales are oversimplifications of conflicting impulses in our lives – selfish and unselfish. Essentially, we characterize ourselves in two forms. My bad, selfish impulses are the villain and my good, unselfish impulses are the hero. In one sense, then, it would be very confusing if we did not love the bad boy. He is only a splintered off section of ourselves.
But alas, life is even more confusing than all that. To long for love is a selfish longing by definition. It is to want someone to think well of you and to care for you. And yet we all know the desire to be innocent and “human.” I think this reveals something about God. God wants us to be dependent on love. He wants us to need him and to need each other. So the only selfish impulse that's not evil is the desire to be loved, and yet that desire can produce almost no assistance in getting it. There are no acceptable ways of demanding love.
Charm is what gets love, or at least attention. Those without it must wait until love is bestowed upon them. Those with charm must hope it attracts more than mere attention and that there is true love for the human underneath. Charm is a valuable as an aspect of beauty but it remains as confined to the surface as physical looks.
So what divides real, human heroes and villains is how they go about getting love. One takes it, the other loves other people and hopes they will return his love.
It makes sense that you love “the bad boy.”
He's combined charm with going about getting love the wrong way. He's understandable, because we too just want love. But while it's okay to love him it's also important (with real life bad boys) to love ourselves by keeping our distance.
I've noticed is that we tend to respond to someone's personality before we respond to their morality.
Henry V (from Shakespeare), the inspiring war hero and romancer of the princess of France, has charm in spades. Even in Henry IV, back when he is unwilling to man up and take on his responsibilities as future king, he is charming as a scoundrel. Scoundrel seems to be the ambiguous word we give someone of loose morality whom we love dearly anyway. We don't agree with everything they do, but we adore them because they are funny or witty or even sarcastic. Han Solo pops into mind. He was unwilling to fight for the noble cause of the rebels (at first) and yet we loved him because he “charmed” us. A charming villain can lead many to their deaths, as I humbly suggest that Henry V did. For all the charm of St. Crispin's speech, were the lives lost really worth the small territories they were fighting the French over?
On the other side of the fence we have Forest Gump. He has zero charm, and his personality is sweet but too “inside the lines” to appeal. And yet that is precisely what should appeal. Part of the story is Penny realizing that her bad boy loves were self-destructive. There is also Sam from The Lord of the Rings. While some people do love him, those with an affinity for “the bad boy” easily feel he is too boring.
What I am getting at is that we are good people. The characters who love these evil characters are good people. And yet, I'd wager that in nearly every heart there is the understanding of what it means to love the charming villain.
There are perhaps three reasons for this.
1. The villain is looking for love.
Despite all the bad he's done, and we're not condoning it, he's really just looking for love. This motive for loving the bad boy (or girl) I suspect is actually healthy because in real life it's often true. Seeing beyond someone's deeds and into their heart can provide compassion. Compassion will then seek to redeem or rescue the villain from their own deeds rather than to seek revenge on them. We see Snow White and Prince Charming are capable of this when they offer forgiveness and even acceptance to the Evil Queen in Once Upon A Time.
People who are acting out of pain can do terrible things. They must sometimes be met with understanding before the consequences can provide confirmation that they need to change.
This impulse becomes destructive when we trust “the villain” (or the person in our lives who is hurting us or others) just because we understand them. My love for Loki does not go this far. He's definitely my favorite bad boy, but he's also caused a lot of destruction. I would never trust him even though I love him. (We will come back to this point in a moment.)
2. They obscure their villainy in charm.
Nobody loves Voldemort. But a zinger like “You just decapitated your grandfather” from Loki (after Thor clumsily flies his ship into a statue) has mass appeal. It's easy to forget he killed hundreds in New York last year. And yet when Jane slaps him, he responds, “I like her,” and we almost forget that he is not apologizing because he's obscured the issue with a red herring. In this case, it's a comment about her feisty-ness, which we love too, giving us something in common with Loki. Sneaky.
3. Perhaps THE villain is not really A villain.
I've noticed that motives are easily overlooked by both sides of the fence.
I would rather see someone have to make a no-win decision like the Winchesters often have to do in Supernatural than see someone do something “good” like “go to church” for the wrong reasons. It's easy to say that killing is wrong and going to church is right, but aren't the motives more important? If we know someone is killing to save others from a monster or going to church to maintain a coveted social standing in society, doesn't that change things a little bit?
In cases like this, the villain and hero archetypes can be called into question. These are my favorite stories. Draco having to choose between saving his family by killing Dumbledore OR saving Dumbledore at the price of his family – that right there is a no-win decision. You can't call him a villain until you look closer. The fact that he doesn't kill Dumbledore makes him – not a hero – but not a villain either. However, Draco is also a bully and delighted in the importance of being cast as a main player in Voldemort's scheme. The character is full of both flaws and virtues, which make him human.
There is a temptation on both sides of the fence to care only about the deeds and nothing for the motives. I've sensed it in “good people” who would like me to do “normal good people things” for no apparent reason. I'm not really wanting to have a discussion on this particular topic right now, but as a case in point, it does not say in the Bible that you must read your Bible EVERY DAY. It can be a good thing done with the right motives, but what if I'm doing it just because you told me to? That is partially defeating the point. The point could be something along the lines of “honoring God” or “remembering him daily” and as personal convictions these will do very well. I am disturbed by the willingness of some people to press on others a certain “good thing” which they want to see me doing whether I'm doing it for the right motives or not. I think that is very short sighted and can in some cases be rather damaging.
Let me continue my illustration one more step, just for the sake of discussion. Perhaps the teen being ordered to read his Bible every day finds that he is not of the personality where this is helpful to him. Perhaps it feels restrictive and he comes to dread it every day. Now a well of beautiful, clean water which may help him when he is down has become to him a duty. Now where does he have to go when he desires or needs clean water? He may well go somewhere else, perhaps because he feels “bad enough as it is” and does not want to do something else he feels ordered to do.
So with motives in mind, sometimes we love the villain because he's doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons.
Say a person must steal to have the money for his son's life-saving surgery. That is a pretty black and white situation for the human heart – but where should he stand in justice? Should he not be prosecuted because the judge “understands” him?
In real life, people act only out of Love or Fear. This principle, found in Beyond Consequences, Logic, and Control, resonates with my experience in life so far. If this is true, than all actions of all humans are a (sometimes distorted) cry for love. We hit this point earlier. But I would like to consider then that not all characterizations are necessarily human, by these standards. If to be human means to be acting out of Love or Fear, all heroes and villains must have actions rooted in Love or Fear. Therefore I consider a badly characterized villain (or hero) to be one in which we cannot see a motive, and futhermore a motive which is usually rooted in Love or Fear. I cannot find a motive for Malekith, the villain in Thor 2, so I submit him as an example of an archetype of evil, a character who is not actually human – he is 2D.
All characters that aspire to be “human” must have their motives rooted in Love or Fear, which is “a cry for love,” which is in itself the desire for a purely good thing.
I therefore submit to you that there is no such thing as pure evil.
If so, there is no evil equivalent to Jesus. Jesus is pure good, but there is no foil that is pure evil. Even Satan is not pure evil – he is just the most twisted of them all that was once good. I'm more and more convinced of this as I read Paradise Lost and process Satan as a real character instead of an archetype of evil. I don't think archetypes exist anywhere in real life, except in Jesus.
And yet we have archetypes in much of literature, but never more so than in fairy tales. I think fairy tales are oversimplifications of conflicting impulses in our lives – selfish and unselfish. Essentially, we characterize ourselves in two forms. My bad, selfish impulses are the villain and my good, unselfish impulses are the hero. In one sense, then, it would be very confusing if we did not love the bad boy. He is only a splintered off section of ourselves.
But alas, life is even more confusing than all that. To long for love is a selfish longing by definition. It is to want someone to think well of you and to care for you. And yet we all know the desire to be innocent and “human.” I think this reveals something about God. God wants us to be dependent on love. He wants us to need him and to need each other. So the only selfish impulse that's not evil is the desire to be loved, and yet that desire can produce almost no assistance in getting it. There are no acceptable ways of demanding love.
Charm is what gets love, or at least attention. Those without it must wait until love is bestowed upon them. Those with charm must hope it attracts more than mere attention and that there is true love for the human underneath. Charm is a valuable as an aspect of beauty but it remains as confined to the surface as physical looks.
So what divides real, human heroes and villains is how they go about getting love. One takes it, the other loves other people and hopes they will return his love.
It makes sense that you love “the bad boy.”
He's combined charm with going about getting love the wrong way. He's understandable, because we too just want love. But while it's okay to love him it's also important (with real life bad boys) to love ourselves by keeping our distance.