The Night Has Teeth

Dracula.

If there were just one word to sum up the concept of 'evil', it would likely be Dracula.

In the pantheon of western literature's best and brightest villains, Dracula sits high on some dark Olympus, if not at the apex, then comfortably close. Barely on screen in Bram Stoker's eponymous novel for more than a few chapters, nonetheless it is Dracula who drives the book. It is Dracula who drives the films which bear his name, who drives the action in every appearance.

He's the sort of antagonist that brings out the best in a hero, which may account some for his popularity. He's all of humanity's fears and hates and loathings rolled up into one handy package. He embodies themes as varied as cannibalism, rampant sexuality, the 'other' and the fear of death and the dead, as well as more esoteric concepts (the Faustian bargain, necromancy, plague, taboo animals, etc.).

But is that all there is to it? Just some smelly themes and subconscious symbolism?

No. Dracula is the outsider, always scratching at our door, looking for a way in. The thing at the back of the cave, or waiting in the forest. The omnipresent Night, with teeth. The themes and symbols which trail after him like a cloak are but manifestations of his ultimate identity-that of the Thing That Scares Us.

It's why we go back to him, again and again, much as his victims did. We invite him in, even knowing what he is, foul breath and all. We invite him in with books and films and plays and all variety of entertainments, pitting him against ourselves and our archetypes (Dracula Vs. Sherlock Holmes, Dracula Vs. Billy the Kid, Dracula Vs. Superman, etc.), destroying him again and again, but like the Night, he always returns. We mock him in cartoons and commercials, we make him into comic books and video-games, but the savagery never diminishes, the fear never entirely goes away.

It's the fear that we can't do without. The terror of being hunted. We can't forget it, even with all of evolution at our back, with our science and religion and civilization. Some part of us always remembers the cave, and thing that we saw there, waiting to pounce out of the darkness.

We can't get rid of him, just like we can't rid ourselves of the atavistic fears handed down by our primordial ancestors. No matter how much we try to dislodge him, to remake him or remold him, Dracula clings to us, he is in the back of our head. In our blood.

*Edited to add-if you're interested in seeing more about my thoughts on Dracula check out DRACULA MONTH on my blog*

Momo and Ernest

So you got two thugs, Momo and Ernest, sitting in a car, discussing matters of love and the dick. Seen it before? Could be a Tarantino flick or the latest Guy Ritchie work, nah, you got classic Francois Truffaut circa 1960. The film is Tirez sur le Pianiste, aka Shoot the Pianist. A slice of American pulp noir from author David Goodis, adapted into a lowlife Parisian setting by New Wave French director Truffaut.

Differentiated only by a bowler hat and a slouch Kangol style, the two smoking pipe men chase down their prey, brother of main character, Edward Saroyan. Thing is these two guys are fuck ups. They can’t even catch a fat thief when they’re in a car, and he’s on foot. They can’t catch him in a crowded restaurant, and later they can’t catch anyone, until one says to the other show him we mean business. Then they show their guns. Classic thugs, and a classic film scenario, only done French new wave.

Whilst in a car hurtling towards certain doom for a kidnapped Sagoyas and his newly found love, the pair decide to talk about women (See above). The story could use only one person to convey their points of view on life, women they all want it, they ain’t no good cept for one thing, but they compliment each others point of view. With two hostages and all this nasty talk, the hostages might override the degrading point of view, here it becomes a democracy. The thugs even manage to sway their captures into agreeing with them on some points. Power in numbers.

Then there’s the lying. Yeah, they lie. Later on in the film when they kidnap the youngest of the brothers they start boasting about their goods, one wears this and the other that. He boasts about how he wears an apparent Japanese scarf woven so fine that it is made out of metal, but feels like material. The brother disbelieves him. Nope! Swear it is metal or shall my mother drop dead. Truffuat shows the mother dropping dead on the spot.

Finally the shoot out. They shoot everyone, but the people that they’re aiming for.

Atleast they dress nice…

Asami Yamazaki

When a lonely middle-aged film producer, Shigeharu Aoyama, decides to audition potential wives under the guise of casting a new movie, he gets more than he bargained for in Takashi Miike's ground-breaking horror flick, AUDITION.

Before the auditions are held, Aoyama picks out the resume of Asami Yamazaki as his favourite. Of all the demure young girls smiling prettily for the camera, Asami is the one he likes best. Aoyama's confederate warns him that there is something not right about the girl, but after the auditions are held he maintains that she is the one for him. And he seems to be right.

Romance blooms between Aoyama and Asami, but the girl has a dark past and when she finds out that the Aoyama's auditions were a pretext to meet girls she not only takes it badly, she decides to wreak bloody vengeance upon him.

It's not the setup of this classic horror story that is remarkable, it's the execution at the hands of Miike and the actress Eihi Shiina. Miike discards most of the techniques of the slasher genre: there are no jumpcuts, no mysterious shadows, no claustrophobic tracking shots. Miike's camera (in this film) is very still, every shot is lovingly-lit and in-focus. He builds a terrifying atmosphere out of all of that stillness, silence and light. (Textbook example is the burlap sack in Asami's apartment. The sack lies in the foreground by the telephone for a long interval while nothing occurs. Then the phone rings and the sack lurches and screams--there's a man in it. Neither Asami nor Miike's camera react.)

The film is also remarkable for its sudden divergence into David Lynch-style surrealism. Once we understand a little about Asami's dark past the film cuts into a sequence of flashbacks and do-overs in which her past is revised in different ways, as is her relationship with Shigeharu. Is it a dream sequence? Who is the dreamer? There are any number of compelling reasons that Asami could have become what she did. She is somehow able to insinuate her story into the lives of her victims; actually winding her different versions of her own backstory into theirs; rewriting scenes that we have already seen, but always leading to the same conclusion. There is no escaping Asami Yamazaki.

J-Horror is not unique in popular culture say that it relishes the destruction of young girls. This is a staple of fiction in many other genres:suspense, thrillers, crime, mystery and even superhero narratives are filled to overflowing with abused girls, and AUDITION plays right into that. The varying levels of abuse Asami may or may not have suffered in the past have caused her to become this monster, but this film presents those scenarios with the same clear-eyed impassivity that it does every other sequence, rather than fetishizing it in the way of 'torture porn'. AUDITION is far more interested in the vengeance that Asami wreaks upon her (mostly male) victims than in what was done to her. With her ambiguous backstory, Asami can in many ways be seen to represent the vengeful spirit of all of those girls degraded and butchered in decades worth of cheap movies. Aoyama, the protagonist, is presented as pathetic and helpless in this film in a way that Asami never is.

That said, Miike denies that his films have 'messages' and I think it's important to take that into consideration: he is not necessarily criticizing those other movies.

But if all that isn't enough to convince you that Asami Yamazaki is a great villain, the final scene certainly will. Watching her chanting as she works on Aoyama with the wire saw is perhaps the squirmiest scene committed to celluloid. If you haven't seen the film, see it. If you have, I have only one thing left to say to you:

IKI IKI IKI

-- JF

Scorpius

Q: WHO’D YOU PICK?

A: When I was first invited to this blog, I immediately thought of SCORPIUS, from Farscape, a TV Show that aired in the US on the SciFi (now SyFy) channel. Though only introduced at the end of the show’s 1^st season, he quickly came to dominate that show and tv movie that wrapped up the series.

Q: HOW DID YOU GO ABOUT SELECTING HIM?

A: I wanted to use my first selection to focus on a Villain who is obviously a Villain, a Melodramatic, or operatic Villain. And, I believe that Scorpius is a Post Modern take on just that type of villain. From the Suit, which is all black, to his monstrous visage, everything about Scorpius screams “I’m the bad guy.”

My hope is that this obvious quality will allow me to more easily extrapolate the general truths of villainy that Scorpius points to.

Q: WHO IS SCORPIUS AND HOW DOES HE FIT INTO THE FARSCAPE UNIVERSE?

A: Farscape is a show about an astronaut named John Crichton who, like Dorothy in Oz, is shot across the universe, via a wormhole in space.

The part of the universe John, the hero, finds himself in is ruled by a fascist state of humanoids, called ironically enough, “The Peacekeepers.” Scorpius, when we first meet him, runs a black ops / science program, so he’s in a position of great power. His mission is to create a new weapon for defeating the Scarrans, the chief rivals to the Peacekeepers in this part of the universe. The weapon he believes will tilt the balance of power between Peacekeeper and Scarren harnesses, of all things, wormholes. And though his first meeting with John is accidental, Scorpius’ sole focus after their encounter is to get John.

Scorpius is a half breed, with his mother being of the humanoid variety that inhabit this aspect of space (they call themselves Sabaceans.) His father is Scarren, a reptilian / humanoid blend, who rapes her. Being a half-breed means he’s rejected by both the Scarren and Peacekeeper ethos, as both sides value species purity. If that seems to contradict his being in a position of power, the show exploits this contradiction to show Scorpius’ talent for strategy, manipulation and ingenuity.

Q: WHAT KIND OF VILLAIN IS SCORPIUS?

A: The beauty of Scorpius as a villain is that he’s not just one type of villain; he doesn’t fit into just one category. Scorpius blends a few categories, and the writers put a few twists on these categories to create something quite new and unique (and as they say in the show, “Unique is always valuable.”)

Category 1: Monster - Just from looking at him, we can see this. From his skull-like face, to his deformed body, monstrous strength, resistance to pain and uncanny ability to know when someone is lying, Scorpius oozes monstrosity.

Category 2: Evil Genius – Though he has super strength, Scorpius doesn’t want to use it, and seems genuinely embarrassed when these monstrous aspects shine through.

Scorpius’ chief asset is his intelligence. Like Lex Luthor or Moriarty, he’s a villain who defeats his opponent with his mind. In Farscape's 2^nd season, Scorpius literally tries to use his mind to defeat John by implanting a neural chip containing a clone of himself into John’s head, all to get at the knowledge John has.

Category 3: Cool Suited Villain - It’s kind of a subset of both Monster and Evil Genius, but this puts him in the same category of characters like Dr. Doom, Darth Vader. Like these other villains, the suit signals a great weakness that is overcome by the technology.

Q: WHAT MAKES SCORPIUS A GOOD VILLAIN?

A: In terms of plot, a villain is the force the hero smashes up against and stands between the hero and his goal. And Scorpius definitely fits the bill. He’s John’s equal in every way and in many ways, John’s superior. Plots on the show would often resolve with John gaining some small victory, only for it to be revealed that this victory also forwards Scorpius’ agenda in some way. Yet, this alone wouldn’t make him a great villain. Though it might seem obvious to say, a great villain must do villainous things. And here, Scorpius doesn’t disappoint. On first encountering John, he tortures him to get information. As stated earlier, when the information is hard to get, Scorpius installs a microchip into John’s brain, which contains a copy of Scorpius’ personality. Though revealed in a flashback, the imagery used to depict this implies a kind of rape.

In a literal way, Scorpius is behind John, holding a phallic-like object that he jams into John. While that’s monstrous enough, the coup de grace is the ‘neural clone’ or personality of Scorpius that lives in John’s head. Scorpius isn’t just inside John’s body, he’s in his head, his thoughts, and it’s a monstrous invasion. When Scorpius finally retrieves the chip, which has the information he requires, Scorpius leaves John alive, tied to a hospital chair, unable to talk. Since Scorpius is motivated by a desire for revenge, he leaves John in what he thinks would be the ultimate torment, in an impotent life of unfulfilled revenge.

As Scorpius prepares to leave the hospital, he sucks the brain matter that has clung to the chip, off, eating it like a delicacy. The suggestion of cannibalism is clear and these actions solidify Scorpius’ bona fides as a monstrous villain.

Another quality that makes Scorpius a good villain is his intelligence. He remains one step ahead of the hero and constantly surprises both him and the audience with his clever plans. In season 4, Scorpius, seemingly out of power, is buried alive in front of John, by a Peacekeeper Commandant, as a means of showing to John that Scorpius is no longer a threat. When Scorpius appears in the following episode, unharmed, he’s asked, “How did you survive?” His answer, “Foresight. And preparation.”

We’re given no further explanation. Though a potential cop out, by this time in the series we’ve seen Scorpius get himself out of trap after trap, using his keen wit and insight, that we accept this explanation without hesitation. This line also shows another aspect of his intelligence that makes him a great villain: Scorpius is great at turning a phrase. Lines like this seduce the viewer into, if not liking Scorpius, respecting him.

In terms of character, great villains are mirrors of their heroic counterparts. In terms of plot, this means a good villain will have goal that they pursue and they may also have good and compelling reasons for their actions. This is definitely true in Scorpius’ case. Being a product of rape, and identifying with his Sabacean side, Scorpius’ goal is the destruction of those who created and tormented him and who threaten the rest of their universe. Though he’s a mirror, Scorpius is a dark reflection of John, so he’ll be willing to sacrifice anyone or anything, including his own dignity and safety, all to achieve his goal of taking revenge on the Scarrens. This dogged, Machiavellian dedication also compels the viewer and earns Scorpius admiration.

Like a hero, Scorpius isn’t a victim of his origins and circumstance, but instead actively tries to overcome them. His suit is a perfect example of this. Being half Sabacean means that he’s cold blooded, but being half Scarren means that he also craves the heat. His suit’s purpose, partially designed by Scorpius himself, is to regulate his internal temperature, which if left unchecked, could cause his death.

Scorpius reflects John in more literal ways too. Both are scientists, and both, in this side of the universe, are outsiders. Neither John nor Scorpius have a place in social order they find themselves in, but Scorpius lies, manipulates and ingratiates himself into that society while John tries to create his own, more egalitarian society. Where John is trying to use his knowledge for the benefit of all, Scorpius is trying to use that same knowledge to destroy.

Finally, Scorpius is like many great heroes of mythology, in that he’s a schism figure. These characters bridge two cultures and in their blending, create something greater than their parts. Moses, for example, is both Jew, by birth, and Egyptian, by upbringing. Superman is Man and Kryptonian. Hercules is Man and God. Scorpius is Sabacean and Scarren, but instead of these two cultures working together, in him they are at war. This conflict is externalized in Scorpius, with his Sabacean need for cold and his Scarren love of heat.

Finally, the last thing I’d like to touch upon in terms of what makes Scorpius such a great villain is what I’m calling execution. Unlike a purely literary character, whose execution is solely the product of a writer, Scorpius is created by a team: from costumer designers, make-up artisans, directors to the actor himself. Wayne Pygram, the man underneath the suit, did more than recite lines and was quite often an active contributor. An example of this can be seen in the 2^nd season episode, entitled, “Look at the Princess: The Maltese Crichton.” Near the end of the episode, John has Scorpius face down over a vat of acid, which just dissolved a Scarren. John tells Scorpius to stop his hunt and lets Scorpius live. After John has left, the camera lingers on Scorpius, alone. Though not in the script, Wayne decided to dip his gloved hand into the ‘acid’ and flick it off with the twist of his wrist. Of course, it does no damage to him at all, making the viewer revisit Scorpius’ previous encounter with John, and realize that Scorpius was never in any danger at all. The whole previous encounter was re-contextualized to be part of some greater plan by Scorpius, making him seem an even more clever and devious character than he was before.

According to Wayne, this addition inspired the writers to go even further in this direction with the character, giving him plans within plans. From the use of his voice, which would lower to a growl as the Scarren side would dominate or raise in pitch when his Sabacean side did, to his cold piercing blue eyes, which Wayne insisted be without contacts in order that nothing got in the way of seeing some humanity in Scorpius, Wayne infused Scorpius with an inner life and soul that makes him a great and compelling villain.

In conclusion, Scorpius is part Monster, part Mad Sceintist, part Hero, wrapped up in a bad ass suit. He’s smart, deceptive, witty and ruthless. He chases the hero, sometimes even protecting him in order to take revenge on his real enemy, those that created and tormented him, threatening to destroy all other life, the Scarrens. As created by those behind the show, Scorpius becomes a singular figure, an adjective, an idea that, like the neural clone, lives in the viewer’s head, whispering things we’d rather not hear. As it should be, with any great villain, he is smiling, damned.

The Joker

Batman's nemesis, The Joker, behaves in exactly the same way as the playing card that inspired him: he's a mysterious figure who spreads random havoc by his very appearance. The character has been reimagined many times (seventy years of multi-media continuity being what it is, it's difficult to call it an 'evolution'), but those basics have remained: the grinning lunatic of mysterious providence who causes mayhem for little more than its own sake.

The Joker was originally a pyschopath who would poison victims with a strange toxin that left them dead with a hideous smile on their faces. In the post-Wertham 50s and 60s, he became little more than an annoying a clown whose modus operandi was to set up some kind of ridiculous robbery caper, laugh, get beaten up by Batman and delivered to the police. Locked up in Arkham Asylum, he would then escape and then we're back to square one. Cesar Romero's ultra-camp performance as the Joker in the 1960s BATMAN TV show was difficult to take as any kind of serious threat.

In the hands of a succession of writers, the Joker slowly had his teeth restored, starting with Denny O'Neil and culminating most famously in the Alan Moore/Brian Bolland story THE KILLING JOKE, in which the Joker cripples Barbara Gordon, daughter of the Commissioner and alter-ego of Batgirl; effectively restoring his status as a serious threat in Batman continuity. But even with this auspicious team behind him, the Joker was little changed from his original days. Jack Nicholson's version of the Joker in the 1980s Tim Burton movie is much more in line with this restored vision of the Joker, although he's as much Crazy Old Jack as he is the comicbook icon.

A number of postulated origin stories have been postulated for the Joker; most of which see him disfigured by falling into a vat of chemicals with the unlikely result of dyeing his hair green and his skin white). Many of these origins also show him running around as proto-supervillain "the Red Hood" prior to this accident. None of these different origins have stuck: I think that do pin a definitive origin onto the character would destroy his appeal. The power of the Joker is that you don't know from whence it came... but once it appears, all bets are off.

I believe that the most definite change in the character since the 50s came in the recent screen: the late Heath Ledger's portrayal in Christopher Nolan's 2008 film, THE DARK KNIGHT. This (deeply flawed) film has quickly become one of the most popular of Hollywood's comicbook adaptations, and I believe that this is entirely due to their handling of the Joker.

The Ledger/Nolan Joker raises the stakes in several ways. Ont he surface, they've substituted the chemical-bleached skin and hair for makeup. Smudged, smeared makeup, which fails to conceal the mutilated face beneath. Even the Joker's lips are scarred, and his speech is effected by the way he keeps licking them. This Joker is not a scary clown, he's a disfigured freak, and there is nothing remotely funny about his appearance. His jokes are not funny, either--he admits it with some pride. His jokes are not funny at all. Gone is the prancing, flamboyant Joker we've long since grown accustomed to. Gone the false English accent, the ridiculous props, then novelty weapons. The Ledger/Nolan is frightening and capable. This Joker won't surprise you with an exploding cigar... he will stab you to death with a ballpoint pen.

Ledger's Joker has no desire for material gain, all he wants to do is to spread chaos and madness for no better reason than because he can. He comes with his own conflicting set of origin stories, each of them nastier and more real than any of those postulated in the funnybooks--because this Joker has invented them himself.