It's known that storytellers can sell us whatever perspective, whatever idea, whatever reality. It is up to us and our sensitivity to question them and, eventually, buy them or not.
However, at first impact, if the perspective of the story is that of the traditional
villain, we tend to cheer for him. I am not talking about the compassion and
sympathy we sometimes feel for the villain when, at the moment of his defeat,
we see all the dramas of his childhood that had turned him. I am talking of the
movies in which pirates, criminals, vampires, thieves and killers are the main
characters and we want them to win.
Many may realize this already by hearing of the myth of Robin Hood. I started thinking about it while reading One Piece, the manga by Oda sensei, where the hero is the captain of a pirates' crew. Stevenson' s Jim Hawkins had taught me that Long John Silver and his comrades are evil, in Treasure Island. And yet, his distant, in time and space, comrade Rufy cannot be evil, can he? The reason why Robin Hood is not a very effective example of this upside down paradox is that he fights for the real good, impersonated by king Richard, justifying his means with his end. Not so for the outlaws I am talking about here: Jack Sparrow is a pirate for himself, he is the antihero, and yet we like him...mostly because he is a funny drunk!
Usually, for the trick to work, the Robin Hood formula must stand. In a few words, the criminal needs to do some good in his way and the guys standing on the side of the law need to have something wrong: like being corrupted (as king John) or week and useless (like the royal sailors 'fighting Jack Sparrow'). In this case, the bad guy is actually the good guy, fighting against a twisted authority: it is the famous casa of Denzel Washington in John Q., where we all feel a father is justified to commit a fellony if his son's life is at risk. Another possibility is when there is no good guys in the movie at all: bad guys fighting against other bad ones to protect their power or their life style. It is typically the case of the gangster movies, like the Godfather trilogy.
Recently, I have seen a movie in which none of the previous cases stand and this anomaly (altough not first in its kind) really made me think:I am talking about the last chapter of the Underworld saga. Traditionally, this saga has dealt with the conflict between vampires and lycans and so far so good (villain vs. villain). In the last two episodes, the conflict is against humans (although in the very last one there is a turn of events...but anyways!). In the last movie the humans have won and the world is ours again. The humans are not weak nor corrupted nor anything: they are rightfully fighting for the survival of their species (ours!), just like vampires and lycans are doing and, eventually, their strength prevails. I thought that this puts in discussion the "kill to eat or to not be eaten" jungle principle, of Kiplingan memory, at the basis of the moral justification for, for example, eating meat (I am not vegan or vegetarian and therefore not trying to turn anyone into anything, I am just saying), killing when attacked, defending your country at all costs and so on. If a Planet of the Apes scenario were to happen, would it then be right for humans to be reduced to the condition of servants, guinea pigs, food? If a new breed of creatures is stronger and more evolved, wouldn’t the extinction of the previous one be just normal evolution ? Vampires eat humans to survive, which makes it right to do so, correct? However, in classic tales, the point is that vampires and zombies and so on are evil, they are demons, a plague to be destroyed, not cured or saved (as poor Hershel of The Walking Dead used to believe). However, what if they have feelings, affections, history, families, memories, just like they are showed in the Underworld saga? Is it right and moral then to just sterminate them with not so much of a "sorry, we need this planet for us"?
Of course, this is just sterile speculation: mythological creatures are not real and never will be. However, taking an extreme and unreal example makes some considerations easier. A more realistic example may come from a movie like the Godfather. We may be disgusted by the fratricide Michael, but we admire the business man and we sympathize with the desperate father of the last scene. And not just because that scene is heartbreaking, but because we know Michael, his virtues and his sins and we still like him, don't we? However, he is not doing what he is doing to defend the life style he knows, not his life. This means that there is no moral debate here: he is a criminal, no "if" or "but". Is it right that we like Michael but we want to estirpate people like him from our society, the real one, when we read about them in the paper? Afterall, isn't Michael's colleague Al Capone (played by De Niro in The Untouchables) the bad guy to us? We may think he is kind of cool in the tribunal scene, but we don't really like him: Costner, young and good looking, is the hero; De Niro, fattish and ugly, is the villain here, no doubt about it. How can perspective make our judgement so different?
Many may realize this already by hearing of the myth of Robin Hood. I started thinking about it while reading One Piece, the manga by Oda sensei, where the hero is the captain of a pirates' crew. Stevenson' s Jim Hawkins had taught me that Long John Silver and his comrades are evil, in Treasure Island. And yet, his distant, in time and space, comrade Rufy cannot be evil, can he? The reason why Robin Hood is not a very effective example of this upside down paradox is that he fights for the real good, impersonated by king Richard, justifying his means with his end. Not so for the outlaws I am talking about here: Jack Sparrow is a pirate for himself, he is the antihero, and yet we like him...mostly because he is a funny drunk!
Usually, for the trick to work, the Robin Hood formula must stand. In a few words, the criminal needs to do some good in his way and the guys standing on the side of the law need to have something wrong: like being corrupted (as king John) or week and useless (like the royal sailors 'fighting Jack Sparrow'). In this case, the bad guy is actually the good guy, fighting against a twisted authority: it is the famous casa of Denzel Washington in John Q., where we all feel a father is justified to commit a fellony if his son's life is at risk. Another possibility is when there is no good guys in the movie at all: bad guys fighting against other bad ones to protect their power or their life style. It is typically the case of the gangster movies, like the Godfather trilogy.
Recently, I have seen a movie in which none of the previous cases stand and this anomaly (altough not first in its kind) really made me think:I am talking about the last chapter of the Underworld saga. Traditionally, this saga has dealt with the conflict between vampires and lycans and so far so good (villain vs. villain). In the last two episodes, the conflict is against humans (although in the very last one there is a turn of events...but anyways!). In the last movie the humans have won and the world is ours again. The humans are not weak nor corrupted nor anything: they are rightfully fighting for the survival of their species (ours!), just like vampires and lycans are doing and, eventually, their strength prevails. I thought that this puts in discussion the "kill to eat or to not be eaten" jungle principle, of Kiplingan memory, at the basis of the moral justification for, for example, eating meat (I am not vegan or vegetarian and therefore not trying to turn anyone into anything, I am just saying), killing when attacked, defending your country at all costs and so on. If a Planet of the Apes scenario were to happen, would it then be right for humans to be reduced to the condition of servants, guinea pigs, food? If a new breed of creatures is stronger and more evolved, wouldn’t the extinction of the previous one be just normal evolution ? Vampires eat humans to survive, which makes it right to do so, correct? However, in classic tales, the point is that vampires and zombies and so on are evil, they are demons, a plague to be destroyed, not cured or saved (as poor Hershel of The Walking Dead used to believe). However, what if they have feelings, affections, history, families, memories, just like they are showed in the Underworld saga? Is it right and moral then to just sterminate them with not so much of a "sorry, we need this planet for us"?
Of course, this is just sterile speculation: mythological creatures are not real and never will be. However, taking an extreme and unreal example makes some considerations easier. A more realistic example may come from a movie like the Godfather. We may be disgusted by the fratricide Michael, but we admire the business man and we sympathize with the desperate father of the last scene. And not just because that scene is heartbreaking, but because we know Michael, his virtues and his sins and we still like him, don't we? However, he is not doing what he is doing to defend the life style he knows, not his life. This means that there is no moral debate here: he is a criminal, no "if" or "but". Is it right that we like Michael but we want to estirpate people like him from our society, the real one, when we read about them in the paper? Afterall, isn't Michael's colleague Al Capone (played by De Niro in The Untouchables) the bad guy to us? We may think he is kind of cool in the tribunal scene, but we don't really like him: Costner, young and good looking, is the hero; De Niro, fattish and ugly, is the villain here, no doubt about it. How can perspective make our judgement so different?
Maybe it is
just the magic of the movies and of any story that is told: anyone
can be the hero. If we can, not only accept but heartily cheer for rats cooking
in a restaurant's kitchen (as Remy's huge, dirty family does in Ratatouille),
maybe we can cheer for anyone who has a story worth telling.
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