Empathy For The Devil
This week’s #TuesdayTip is inspired, in part, by the epic conclusion of the BBC drama, Happy Valley. First off, rest easy that there won’t be any spoilers!
It occurred to me as I watched the series that one of the key strengths is the characterisation, in particular the way in which even the worst characters have qualities that make the readers empathise with them.
I’ve written before about how protagonists (the ‘hero’) and antagonists (the ‘baddie’) can often be two sides of the same coin, and how the same character can switch between the two (Tip#113). Today, I want to focus on the antagonist and discuss why the most memorable ‘bad guys’ have positive traits interwoven between the evil.
It’s very easy to write a pantomime villain – a character that is all bad. They have no redeeming qualities, and the audience loves to hiss and boo as they make their entrance. But I find that one-sided approach to be ultimately unsatisfying.
Human beings are complex creatures. We accept that no person is wholly good. We all have flaws, some big, some small. Dig deep enough into your personal heroes and you’ll find aspects of their personality or things that they have done that you disagree with. Similarly, the tabloid newspapers are experts at presenting killers and rapists as monsters with no redeemable qualities. But look beneath the surface (sometimes very deep, admittedly), and you will always find something that is good or likeable about that person. It doesn’t excuse their actions, but it is there.
Furthermore, it is this contrast that often makes them more scary. How often have you heard shocked neighbours describing the quiet man at number 42 who turned out to be a serial killer as ‘an ordinary family man’? Aside from the uneasiness from realising that evil-doers often hide in plain sight, the juxtaposition of a person who outwardly appears affectionate towards friends and families with an individual that is capable of great cruelty, magnifies the horror we feel at what they do. That contrast amplifies the impact of their crimes.
In Happy Valley, the writer Sally Wainwright, and actor James Norton, crafted a memorable antagonist that kept millions of viewers hooked for three seasons, spread over almost a decade. Tommy Lee Royce was capable of tremendous cruelty and violence. Yet in the final episodes he evolved from a wicked bogey monster to a complex, damaged individual. Many viewers were left discomfited by the fact that whilst none of his actions could be justified, they could be understood on some level. They found themselves feeling a degree of sympathy towards him, that means he will linger in their consciousness long after the series has ended.
Humanising The Bad Guy.
As writers, we want our characters to not only leap off the page through cleverly-crafted descriptions and memorable actions, but we also want our readers to experience emotion as they read about them. In the case of our antagonists, we want the over-riding feeling to be negative. But if we truly want them to feel authentic and to make them memorable, we need to tap into that inner contradiction that human beings are both good and evil. In other words, we need to humanise them.
Now first of all, humanising is not the same as condoning. Empathising with a character is not the same as forgiving them. Hitler was no less evil because he was a vegetarian who loved his dogs.
So how can we humanise our antagonists to make them more rounded, memorable and effective villains?
To do so, you need to give them traits that we can empathise with, or motives and desires that we can understand (and perhaps even agree with, even if we would never countenance how they set about to achieve them).
The first tranche of Marvel comic book movies built towards an epic showdown between the Avengers and Thanos, a god-like creature who, with a snap of his fingers killed 50{c03e90e2507f22ef5f62cd1eeda0c42982bdc22ea518448040efc371149673f6} of all living beings. Evil incarnate.
Yet look at his motives: to simplify greatly, he believed that the universe was being destroyed by over-population. His drastic solution was to halve the number of lifeforms. Few would agree with his methods, but his goal, the protection of the universe, was on one level laudable. Fundamentally, he believed he was making a sacrifice for the greater good. Add to that his love for his adopted daughters and you have a character that is a lot more memorable than at first glance.
Back on Earth, I was faced with a conundrum when writing The Common Enemy, the fourth full-length novel in my DCI Warren Jones series. The victim in this book was the leader of a far-right extremist party. Tommy Meegan was racist, homophobic and violent, as were his friends. However, I needed the reader to empathise with the victim, otherwise they wouldn’t care if Warren brought his killer to justice or not. They didn’t have to like him, or agree with him, but they did need to see him as a human being.
You can do this for your own characters in a number of ways.
It occurred to me as I watched the series that one of the key strengths is the characterisation, in particular the way in which even the worst characters have qualities that make the readers empathise with them.
I’ve written before about how protagonists (the ‘hero’) and antagonists (the ‘baddie’) can often be two sides of the same coin, and how the same character can switch between the two (Tip#113). Today, I want to focus on the antagonist and discuss why the most memorable ‘bad guys’ have positive traits interwoven between the evil.
It’s very easy to write a pantomime villain – a character that is all bad. They have no redeeming qualities, and the audience loves to hiss and boo as they make their entrance. But I find that one-sided approach to be ultimately unsatisfying.
Human beings are complex creatures. We accept that no person is wholly good. We all have flaws, some big, some small. Dig deep enough into your personal heroes and you’ll find aspects of their personality or things that they have done that you disagree with. Similarly, the tabloid newspapers are experts at presenting killers and rapists as monsters with no redeemable qualities. But look beneath the surface (sometimes very deep, admittedly), and you will always find something that is good or likeable about that person. It doesn’t excuse their actions, but it is there.
Furthermore, it is this contrast that often makes them more scary. How often have you heard shocked neighbours describing the quiet man at number 42 who turned out to be a serial killer as ‘an ordinary family man’? Aside from the uneasiness from realising that evil-doers often hide in plain sight, the juxtaposition of a person who outwardly appears affectionate towards friends and families with an individual that is capable of great cruelty, magnifies the horror we feel at what they do. That contrast amplifies the impact of their crimes.
In Happy Valley, the writer Sally Wainwright, and actor James Norton, crafted a memorable antagonist that kept millions of viewers hooked for three seasons, spread over almost a decade. Tommy Lee Royce was capable of tremendous cruelty and violence. Yet in the final episodes he evolved from a wicked bogey monster to a complex, damaged individual. Many viewers were left discomfited by the fact that whilst none of his actions could be justified, they could be understood on some level. They found themselves feeling a degree of sympathy towards him, that means he will linger in their consciousness long after the series has ended.
Humanising The Bad Guy.
As writers, we want our characters to not only leap off the page through cleverly-crafted descriptions and memorable actions, but we also want our readers to experience emotion as they read about them. In the case of our antagonists, we want the over-riding feeling to be negative. But if we truly want them to feel authentic and to make them memorable, we need to tap into that inner contradiction that human beings are both good and evil. In other words, we need to humanise them.
Now first of all, humanising is not the same as condoning. Empathising with a character is not the same as forgiving them. Hitler was no less evil because he was a vegetarian who loved his dogs.
So how can we humanise our antagonists to make them more rounded, memorable and effective villains?
To do so, you need to give them traits that we can empathise with, or motives and desires that we can understand (and perhaps even agree with, even if we would never countenance how they set about to achieve them).
The first tranche of Marvel comic book movies built towards an epic showdown between the Avengers and Thanos, a god-like creature who, with a snap of his fingers killed 50{c03e90e2507f22ef5f62cd1eeda0c42982bdc22ea518448040efc371149673f6} of all living beings. Evil incarnate.
Yet look at his motives: to simplify greatly, he believed that the universe was being destroyed by over-population. His drastic solution was to halve the number of lifeforms. Few would agree with his methods, but his goal, the protection of the universe, was on one level laudable. Fundamentally, he believed he was making a sacrifice for the greater good. Add to that his love for his adopted daughters and you have a character that is a lot more memorable than at first glance.
Back on Earth, I was faced with a conundrum when writing The Common Enemy, the fourth full-length novel in my DCI Warren Jones series. The victim in this book was the leader of a far-right extremist party. Tommy Meegan was racist, homophobic and violent, as were his friends. However, I needed the reader to empathise with the victim, otherwise they wouldn’t care if Warren brought his killer to justice or not. They didn’t have to like him, or agree with him, but they did need to see him as a human being.
You can do this for your own characters in a number of ways.
- Most powerfully, show that they are loved. Despite their failings, give them family and friends who enjoy spending time with them and miss them when they are absent.
- Show why they are loved. An easy way to do this is small acts of kindness or loyalty. Does your murderous, psychopathic serial killer do a bit of shopping for their elderly neighbour? Do they ring their grandmother or visit a dying relative every day without fail?
- Show that they can love. Maybe they have a family that they would do anything for? Or a beloved pet.
- Give them traits that make them likeable under the right circumstances. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, they are unlikeable. But do they have a sense of humour? Or everyday interests and hobbies and opinions that you or I may share? Hannibal Lecter is a charming, erudite and cultured individual. If it wasn’t for his murderous impulses, I dare say he’d be enjoyable company at a dinner party.
- Give them flaws that the reader can empathise or sympathise with, because the reader shares them or knows others who do.
- Give them a motivation that we can understand (or perhaps even agree with to a certain extent). Do they kill for revenge (they or a loved one have been hurt)? Are they so obsessed with always being in control because they had a childhood where they felt powerless? Do they commit acts of violence because that is the only way they were taught how to solve a problem? Do they just want to share their inner pain with others, so they aren’t alone?
How can you humanise your antagonist? Can you think of any good examples in fiction or real-life?
As always, feel free to comment here or on social media.
If you are a writer with a tip to share, or fancy writing a fictional interview between you and one of your characters, please feel free to email me.
Until next time,
All the best,
Paul
