In most movies that have a strong villain, there is deep difference between the villain and the hero that goes beyond the obvious–that villains want to harm people, while heroes want to save them. That difference is in their basic approach to life. Villains almost invariably do what they want, while heroes do what they must. Heroes are duty bound, honor bound, even personality bound, to complete their mission. This is simply good story telling. We like to see heroes who are compelled by a force, even an internal one, who then get up and act in a big way.
That leaves the villains, free from the writer’s obsession with the storyline, to blossom into someone who follows his heart. Hannibal Lecter does what he his black little heart wants. So does the Joker. Batman and the FBI are bound by duty to stop them. I respect their allegiance to duty, it seems somehow selfless and an embrace of humanity. But that same approach doesn’t work for my life (maybe I don’t have good writers on staff).
I spend a good part of my day trying to do what I should/must/have-to. It means I have to keep up with expectations. I have to think outside myself and consider what I think is “right” for me from some objective perspective. It usually doesn’t occur to me that I can really never have that objectivity that I believe I get when considering my obligations to family and society; it is, after all, me who is making the judgment about what is objective and thus still subjective, and not a little twisted. I then must constantly measure myself against that ghost of an idea: Duty.
When I was struggling in my first year of university study, I complained to a school counselor about all the pressure on me. The counselor, who wore an eye patch, then calmly said, “why don’t you get up and get on train and go to Florida?” I was dumbfounded. Freedom can be bewildering at first.
I need freedom of choice like a mouse needs freedom of physical movement. Binding myself to duty is like the mouse getting caught on those sticky glue traps. It struggles enormously, but since it’s effort doesn’t yield the result it wants, it get very stressed. Autonomy is not a privilege, it’s a basic need.
What does my duty-bound mind say about autonomy? It screams, “What happens to duty? Everything will fall apart; we’ll descend into chaos; Armageddon!!”
Results are more important in considering which way is a better approach my life. When free to choose for myself, I find duty is actually bolstered because it’s pursued with love rather than with compulsion. I am not a Hannibal Lecter at heart, so following my wants has definitely not lead to cannibalism.
That train ride to Florida never happened. Instead, I discovered I loved learning, so university courses became a pleasure. I now try to ask myself, in any situation, What do I want? I sometimes find myself enmeshed in some pursuit, like once trying to build a canoe, and then stopping to ask myself that wonderful question. I often realize that I don’t really want to do what I’m struggling to do. I didn’t want to build a canoe; for some reason, the notion of building one lodged itself in my head and I was off. When the question is answered with a yes, I find that it gives me renewed energy to continue focusing on the task.
Beyond the simple morality of movies, villains may be the real heroes.
Why Villains Are Better Role Models
In most movies that have a strong villain, there is deep difference between the villain and the hero that goes beyond the obvious–that villains want to harm people, while heroes want to save them. That difference is in their basic approach to life. Villains almost invariably do what they want, while heroes do what they must. Heroes are duty bound, honor bound, even personality bound, to complete their mission. This is simply good story telling. We like to see heroes who are compelled by a force, even an internal one, who then get up and act in a big way.
That leaves the villains, free from the writer’s obsession with the storyline, to blossom into someone who follows his heart. Hannibal Lecter does what he his black little heart wants. So does the Joker. Batman and the FBI are bound by duty to stop them. I respect their allegiance to duty, it seems somehow selfless and an embrace of humanity. But that same approach doesn’t work for my life (maybe I don’t have good writers on staff).
I spend a good part of my day trying to do what I should/must/have-to. It means I have to keep up with expectations. I have to think outside myself and consider what I think is “right” for me from some objective perspective. It usually doesn’t occur to me that I can really never have that objectivity that I believe I get when considering my obligations to family and society; it is, after all, me who is making the judgment about what is objective and thus still subjective, and not a little twisted. I then must constantly measure myself against that ghost of an idea: Duty.
When I was struggling in my first year of university study, I complained to a school counselor about all the pressure on me. The counselor, who wore an eye patch, then calmly said, “why don’t you get up and get on train and go to Florida?” I was dumbfounded. Freedom can be bewildering at first.
I need freedom of choice like a mouse needs freedom of physical movement. Binding myself to duty is like the mouse getting caught on those sticky glue traps. It struggles enormously, but since it’s effort doesn’t yield the result it wants, it get very stressed. Autonomy is not a privilege, it’s a basic need.
What does my duty-bound mind say about autonomy? It screams, “What happens to duty? Everything will fall apart; we’ll descend into chaos; Armageddon!!”
Results are more important in considering which way is a better approach my life. When free to choose for myself, I find duty is actually bolstered because it’s pursued with love rather than with compulsion. I am not a Hannibal Lecter at heart, so following my wants has definitely not lead to cannibalism.
That train ride to Florida never happened. Instead, I discovered I loved learning, so university courses became a pleasure. I now try to ask myself, in any situation, What do I want? I sometimes find myself enmeshed in some pursuit, like once trying to build a canoe, and then stopping to ask myself that wonderful question. I often realize that I don’t really want to do what I’m struggling to do. I didn’t want to build a canoe; for some reason, the notion of building one lodged itself in my head and I was off. When the question is answered with a yes, I find that it gives me renewed energy to continue focusing on the task.
Beyond the simple morality of movies, villains may be the real heroes.