The Vice of a Villain: The Flaws and Motivations that Humanize Your Antagonist
“Behind every successful hero, is a villain.”
~ Sacha Black (How to Craft Superbad Villains: 13 Steps to Evil)
Introduction
In The Fantasy Fiction Formula, Deborah Chester identifies an antagonist as “the central opponent to the protagonist, the second most important role [emphasis added].” (2016, 22) Sacha Black takes it one step further in How to Craft Superbad Villains: 13 Steps to Evil with, “Your hero is not the most important character in your novel. Your villain is.” (2017, 1) The common thread here is to emphasize a simple point: the wants and needs of your villain create the plot’s central conflict (the most critical aspect of any novel, really) and in turn create conflict with your protagonist (or hero). This conflict then propels the narrative forward through action and, ideally, will have the audience glued to the pages as they try to determine who will ultimately win. “Without someone opposing your hero and creating conflict, there isn’t a need for the hero, which means there isn’t a story either.” (Black, 2017, 3)
Before we get too deep down this fabulous rabbit hole of character design, a quick note on terminology: the terms “villain” and “antagonist” often get tossed into the blender like they’re one and the same. Understandable, since the two terms are very similar, but they are not in fact mutually exclusive. Black offers the best and most succinct difference between the two:
An antagonist is a character or thing that opposes the protagonist (or hero). A villain is an antagonist because they oppose the hero. But an antagonist does not have to be a villain.
A villain indicates some level of evil while an antagonist does not. (2017, 4)
When designing your protagonist and antagonist, Deborah Chester advises that “No character should be one-hundred percent good or completely evil…Design a judicious mix of the good and bad.” (2016, 27) In reverse of her suggested creative process for a protagonist, Chester recommends fantasy fiction authors should start with mostly negative personality traits, then mix in a few good ones. “Let the reader see that the villain has the capacity for good, but is choosing not to use it [emphasis added].” (2016, 27) Life is all about choices, and just as the protagonist is defined by hers, so the antagonist is defined by his (or hers).
Now then, let’s delve into a few character examples from both film and literature. As with my previous post on “The Power of a Protagonist,” if you haven’t viewed/read these works, spoilers ahead.
Character Profile #1: Lady Lucille Sharpe
Crimson Peak. Film by Guillermo del Toro, 2015.
We reviewed the character of Edith Cushing as the protagonist of Guillermo del Toro’s 2015 film and it seems fitting to now look at her counterpart: Lady Lucille Sharpe. In contrast to Edith’s soft features and warm countenance, Lucille is pale, the lines of her face sharp and tight, with dark braided hair tightly coiled around her head and gowns of deep royal tones. Everything about Lucille’s body language, the way she speaks and the way she carries herself, emphasizes control. She is in control of the family estate, of the comings and goings within her domain, and most of all, Lucille is in control of her brother.
Lucille’s need to maintain control has tangled and bitter roots in her and Thomas’ tumultuous childhood. Neglected, restricted only to specific areas of their sprawling family estate, and finding no tenderness from their parents’ bitter marriage, the years of isolation began to claw into Lucille’s mind and soul until she became a physical reflection of the dilapidated Allerdale Hall: dark, cold, and filled with jagged, broken pieces that are ready to cut, tear, and destroy any intruders. Her first known victim is her own mother, and for all the control she holds over the people around her, the method used to commit her mother’s murder offers a glimpse into just how little control Lucille has over herself.
Their childhood was tragic, and by her own admission, Lucille suffered terribly to protect Thomas from their mother’s temper. However, while Thomas is able to pursue his own interests and later finds solace and escape in his relationship with Edith, a choice that offers redemption of the soul even if not the body, Lucille cannot. Her sense of self is wrapped up in her relationship with Thomas, such that she hovers over his existence to the point of suffocation, and it drives her to one terrible decision after another. When given the opportunity to escape, to start anew and leave ghosts to lie, Lucille cannot stomach the reality that this new freedom will mean she must sacrifice Thomas to Edith. The illicit bond she has with Thomas has validated Lucille since childhood, the only relationship in which she felt loved and expressed love in return. (I’ll leave out the details regarding how she expressed her love and just let you discover that for yourself.) The moment she realizes that this bond is being taken away from her, that Thomas is extracting himself from her control, the dignified lady of Allerdale Hall gives way to a terrible and feral visage as Lucille makes her final choice: Death. Her brother’s, her rival’s, and eventually, her own.
Character Profile #2: Jenner
Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. Novel by Robert O’Brien, 1971.
The Secret of NIMH. Film by Don Bluth, 1982.
In O’Brien’s 1971 novel, Jenner is never seen through the eyes of the protagonist Mrs. Frisby. He exists only in Nicodemus’ narration, initially a key player in the rats’ escape from NIMH, later an outspoken opponent of The Plan, and finally a tragic headline when it is heavily implied that he and his small group of separatists met a terrible fate in a mechanic shop. Though he was certainly disliked by some members of the rat colony for his opposition of Nicodemus’ plan, his mannerisms and actions are never expressed by Nicodemus as outright evil. The greater conflict appears to be one of morals: Nicodemus and several other rats have grown to regret living an existence that exist solely on thievery, while Jenner has grown comfortable in this life and believes living off the rats’ personal labor is not only a foolish notion, doomed to failure before it begins, but also unnecessary when they already have everything they could need – albeit, at humans’ expense.
Bluth’s film takes Jenner’s dissension in a different direction. From the first moment we see Jenner, few would assume good intentions from his character. Everything about him is dark, from the color of his fur to the sweeping cape that constantly drapes and unfurls around him. He is cultured, well-spoken, but his demeanor drips with danger and his eyes gleam with malice. Even when his intentions appear magnanimous with Mrs. Brisby’s needs and he presents himself as a friend and “humble servant,” (Bluth, 1982) still Mrs. Brisby shrinks away. She knows something is different about him and it unsettles her down to the bones.
Mrs. Brisby’s caution around Jenner is proven to be terribly insightful. To prevent the rat colony from following Nicodemus’ plan, he conspires to and later directly causes the leader’s death, leaving the rats unsettled and Jenner primed to bring the group back to the rosebush, “...where we belong.” (Bluth, 1982) Mrs. Brisby’s attempts to warn them about the impending danger of NIMH, due to arrive in the morning, results in a burst of brutal, animalistic violence from Jenner, which in turn puts him in direct conflict with his character foil, Justin. In the fight to follow, a line of dialogue reveals a key element of Jenner’s choices: “I’ve learned this much: take what you can, when you can.” (Bluth, 1982) Despite possessing intelligence that is on par with humans, perhaps even surpassing human intelligence, Jenner has never moved beyond his primal origins when it comes to maintaining his personal comfort. He remembers a life once lived on the streets, stealing scraps and being regarded as vermin, and now delights in the ability to live a comfortable, lavish lifestyle that sets him apart from ordinary rats. This desire for comfort and stability is very natural, but his willingness to kill to maintain it is the choice that, ultimately, leads to Jenner’s downfall.
Character Profile #3: King Haggard
The Last Unicorn. Novel by Peter Beagle, 1986
At first glance, the actions of King Haggard in Peter Beagle’s 1968 fantasy novel seem to fit the criteria for a traditional villainous king. With the Red Bull acting on his behalf, he has gathered all but one of the world’s unicorns into the sea surrounding his desolate, decrepit castle and thus transformed the turning tide into a churning spectacle for him to observe every day. “The waves…arching their backs higher and higher, and then sprang up the beach as furiously as trapped animals bounding at the wall and falling back with a sobbing snarl to leap again and again” (1968, 217-218) Day after day, night after night, hour after hour, Haggard watches as the unicorns trapped beneath the waves strive for freedom - and yet cannot dare for their fear of the Bull.
This revelation comes in a moment that casts a different light over Haggard’s decision to steal the unicorns for himself. Standing with the one unicorn who evaded initial capture, now living under the human guise of Lady Amalthea, he softly confesses, “I like to watch them. They fill me with joy. I am sure it is joy. The first time I felt it, I thought I was going to die. … I thought I was going to die. I said to the Red Bull, ‘I must have that. I must have all of it, all there is, for my need is very great.’” (1968, 219) In the same childlike voice, “nearly singing with delight,” (219) Haggard further adds a final element of his motivation, his decision, and, most importantly, his character:
“I suppose I was young when I first saw them. Now I must be old—at least I have picked up many more things than I had then, and put them all down again, but I always knew that nothing was worth the investment of my heart, because nothing lasts, and I was right, and so I was always old. Yet each time I see my unicorns, it is like that morning in the woods, and I am truly young again in spite of myself, and anything can happen in a world that holds such beauty.” (1968, 220)
King Haggard is not a good man, but it might be argued that neither is he a fully evil man. What he is, by his own admission, is an unhappy man. He is vividly depicted as the embodiment of his name: “wild in appearance” or “having a worn or emaciated appearance” (Merriam-Webster), but the word haggard has a different meaning when used as a noun. According to Merriam-Webster, haggard refers to “an adult hawk caught wild.” Any animal, especially a bird of prey, suddenly snatched from its natural world and held in captivity will be eternally restless, perhaps even furious, and certainly unhappy – unhappy to the point that nothing can console it. And that image is, ultimately, who Haggard is. Nothing makes him happy. Not his status as a ruler, not the company of his son, not the simple pleasures of the court. In his own words, “All things die when I pick them up. I do not know why they die, but it has always been so, save for the one dear possession that has not turned cold and dull as I guarded it—the only thing that has ever belonged to me.” (1968, 215) His decision is, morally, a terrible one, yet it came from a very human desire - to finally, for the first time in his life, be happy.
Conclusion
In The Fire in Fiction: passion, purpose, and techniques TO MAKE YOUR NOVEL GREAT, Donald Maass offers a simple tidbit of advice: “…it’s worth investing time in your antagonist.” (2009, 50) This is the character that is in direct opposition to your protagonist, and therefore will be the source of events, internal and external, that serve as catalysts to the protagonist’s development. Without them, your protagonist’s journey would be as exciting as a trip to the grocery store.
But there’s a catch: your antagonist or villain must be interesting. Let their motivations be human and their desires be justified, understandable, even pitiable (Maass, 2009, 53). Take yourself down the rabbit hole with the question of Why? with their motivations, their pursuits, their goals and ambitions. Are their choices fueled by a need to be loved and validated, a desire to live comfortably after years of struggle, or a more basic want for happiness? How, then, do these human desires lead to inhumane actions?
Have real talk with them until you need to pour yourself a tumbler of whiskey on the rocks. Then pour your antagonist a drink of their choice, break out some cigars, and keep talking. You’ll be at it for a while, but your story will benefit greatly.
For more tips and tricks on how to write antagonists and villains, please check out the links below:
"Creating Characters Readers Remember: Details Guide" (Now Novel)
"Characters & the Rule of Two for Writers" (Writers Write)
"4 Ways to Get Your Reader to Identify with an Unsympathetic Character" (Writers Write)
"How to Create a Memorable Antagonist" (Writers Write)
"Use the 7 Deadly Sins to Strengthen Your Antagonist's Motives" (Writers Write)
"7 Deadly Rules for Creating a Villain" (Writers Write)
