The advantages of the classic villain

I'm a "Smallville" fan. It's a brilliant series that gives the ultimate modern hero-archetype, Superman, feet of clay while simultaniously molding that clay into the world's favorite square-jawed red white and yellow symbol of truth, justice and the American way.

As I'm writing this, I'm smack in the middle of the fifth season, which draws heavily from "Superman II," so I rent the DVD and give it a view, the better to see where the series is going, my dear.

Pretty much standard fare, I thought, for anyone who's watched the first Christopher Reeve movie: Superman flying around saving people or else standing around looking pretty while criminals empty their guns on his impenetrable skin (as if the eighteenth bullet might work when the first one doesn't make a dent).

So I thought, before the movie hooked my attention and reeled me in, and did so with two words:

General Zod.

He's the chief villain of the piece and Krypton's version of Hitler, locked in an alternated dimension with his two minions by Superman's dad, Jor-el, for unspecified but undoubtedly grim bits of nastiness.

Looking back, I realize Zod should be the perfect recipe for cheesiness. One look at this guy should tell you. We're talking standard villain stuff here: black jumpsuit, devilish beard, plans for world domination and apparently evil for no other reason than to be evil, he even talks about himself in the third person.

He is, in short, a walking, talking cliché. Urbane and jaded as my literary palate is, I should have found him laughable.

But I didn't.

Zod was unoriginal in his motivations. Zod was predictable in his ruthlessness. Zod was not even remotely sympathetic. But Zod worked.

Why?

Because I realized I wasn't seeing a cliché, but an archetype.

In this age of sensitivity the sympathetic, human villain is 'in' and while there've been some spectacular successes with this approach (George R.R. Martin is the most obvious example) there's a reason the archetypical villain (Martin's got a couple of those too) has prospered for so long. This must not be overlooked.

While there is some truth in the assertion that fictional figures of absolute evil are merely straw-men embodying the fears and prejudices of a culture and set up for the purpose of being slaughtered so said culture might vicariously indulge in its repressed hatred and bloodlust without guilt (the Jews have been especially victimized in folklore and story through the Middle Ages and into the present day), the villain of unredeemable evil, when done correctly, wields undeniable power over the imagination.

When done ineptly, however, it's easy to fall into the trap of cheesiness, stereotyping or outright racism. Your figure of menace could become a clown at best, offensive at worst.

So, how to avoid this trap? Look at the 'success' stories: General Zod, Sauron from "Lord of the Rings," the White Witch from "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," the Witch of the West from "The Wizard of Oz," Lord Foul the Despiser of "The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever," Voldemort from "Harry Potter," Palpatine from Star Wars and Randall Flagg from "The Stand," Agent Smith from "The Matrix." These are characters that evoke, not sympathy, but fascination. We can't help but watch them (though hopefully from a safe distance).

But again, why?

I won't get into the details of their respective trappings, accessories and most-quotable lines, nor will I pull out a chart and dice to compare their respective prestige classes and power levels, all that's just fluff. No, there are just two things that make an achetypical villain: the look, and the presence.

First, the look: I'm not talking about appearance here, but the way they look at the world. These are characters who have no regard for anything outside their own persons, who exalt themselves above all the universe, and you can see it in their eyes. Other people are simply objects to be pushed about, circumvented, utilized as tools or stepped on, sometimes through brute force, other times through the levers of emotion.

This is where the sense of fascination arises: the archetypical villain may look human, but inside they are as alien as any monster that pops out of the Phantom Zone.

And why are they like this? Because they lack something and are desperate to fill that empty place within. The archetype villain is like a hurricane: all sound and fury, but empty inside. They are, at the core, pure desire.

Stephen R. Donaldson once described his villains as walking black holes who would swallow up all of creation if they could, and feel nothing afterwards except self-pity at having nothing else to consume.

As you can surmise, archetypical villains are not happy people. King Arthur said it best in the musical/movie, "Camelot": 'You can't be happy and wicked. You can be triumphant and wicked, but that's not the same thing."

Next, the presence. Zod was not simply menacing, he became the center of every scene where he appeared.

You never get a sense of 'what am I doing wearing this getup and giving these ridiculous, canned monologues?'

The character was played by Terence Stamp (an excellent actor, and ironically he is now playing Jor-el on "Smallville") and he delivers every line, no matter how corny, with Shakespearian thunder. He made the character come to life.

Like your achetypical hero, the archetype villain is larger than life. Like the hero, the villain can crush normal folks underfoot without even realizing it. What makes them different is that the villain doesn't care.

Your archetype villain is, in many ways, the dark mirror of the hero. They must resonate with the reader. They must be mythic. They are the inheritors of Typhon, the monster of Greek mythology, Fenrir, the ravenous wolf of the Vikings, and every other creature of legend.

On a side note, this quality of presence is easy to exaggerate if the goal is a comic or caricature, such as Dr. Evil from the 'Austin Powers' movies.

With these qualities, even General Woundwort from "Watership Down" fits the bill as the perfect villain archetype, and he's a freakin' rabbit!

It is the writer's responsibility to clothe those old monsters in new conventions, as Milton turned Satan from a compile of superstitions and suppressed lusts into the charismatic tempter familiar to popular entertainment.

Finally, do not hesitate to make your villains formidable. Remember, the villain is the measuring stick by which the hero is defined, and the most important lessons of the hero's journey are revealed by these conflicts.

The story of Superman II illustrates this. Superman gives up his powers and becomes plain 'ol Clark Kent in order to be with Lois Lane and have a normal life. Then Zod rears his ugly head. Here's a threat that only Superman can face, and he's powerless.

Simply by existing, Zod has taught Clark a lesson: that his powers carry a larger responsibility beyond his own wants that he can't set aside.

This is the role of the archetype villain. Like the final boss between you and the treasure, they will fight the hero simply because it's what they're for. It's their reason for being.

Ultimately, the villain exists to be fought and defeated. This is their sublime and transcendent purpose.

General Zod is a prime example. While his super-powered minions indulge in petty sadism, he seems bored with his conquests. Only when he learns of Superman's existence does he show some excitement.

On some level, he realizes that without a hero to fight, his existence is meaningless.

Just some food for thought while you write.

And finally, because I know you've all been waiting for it:

"Son of Jor-el, KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!"