Sympathy for the anti-hero

Sympathy for the anti-hero

by Thomas Martin

Despite the inherit badness of the anti-hero, this piece explores how the audience often comes to have sympathy for characters not aligning with typical moral standards, but who are relatable nonetheless.

We hate to love them. The complexity of the anti-hero often produces thrilling entertainment; think the Joker, Deadpool, and Walter White. The reason for this could be linked to the realism these characters display. The absolutism of heroes and villains is not grounded in reality, instead with a mixed moral code, whereby strong morals are lacking in favour of self-serving attributes, but still with an underlying desire for the common good. Ultimately, this clash leads to self-destruction and tragedy, such as the story of Macbeth. There are numerous examples of these characters, arguably beginning with the Man with No Name (Clint Eastwood) in the Italian Dollars Trilogy of Spaghetti Westerns.

To create this complexity, screenwriting employs, at least, one of the Dark Triad personality traits: narcissism, psychopathy, and Machiavellianism. Today, this is more complicated, and a perfect example of this is the character of Stannis Baratheon in the hugely popular Game of Thrones.

Legally, Stannis is the next in line to the throne, but he is unjustly denied by the various conflicts within the world. The first main protagonist, Ned Stark, dies trying to enthrone Stannis. The rigidity and stoicism of Stannis render him incorruptible, but not necessarily likable. His story is not the crux of the series, yet he would often cut his nose off to spite his face, by pursuing his cause despite other options available, which would jeopardise his hardened beliefs.

He is quoted as being, ‘pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets’. A dangerous religion causes him to horrifically burn his own daughter alive, and that is the end for Stannis; his army is tragically routed by the actual villains at this point in the series (the Boltons). This unenviable position is highlighted with a quote from the book series, ‘I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty … If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark … Sacrifice … is never easy, Davos’.

The audience, if even passively rooting for him against the sadistic Ramsay Bolton, turns despite Stannis’ fundamentally positive and honourable crusade.

George R. R. Martin, the series’ author, stated, ‘Despite everything else, Stannis is a righteous man’. Thus, his honour and pride lead to anti-hero status. Despite having the same sense of justice as traditional heroes and being recognised by the main hero of the show (Jon Snow) as the one true king, inevitably he follows a self-destructive path that leads to tragedy.

Shows like Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones are so successful because of their complexity involving the anti-hero. Yes, films like Star Wars: A New Hope provide a classic fight against evil, but the unpredictable nature of the anti-hero makes for greater entertainment.

Even the acting required to carry this out is more realistic, especially with Stephen Dillane’s performance as Stannis. The tidy and hopeful ending of a movie can become wearisome when repeated endlessly. Fiction portraying the anti-hero mimics life, you reassure me that, just like the characters on our screens, we are not perfect, and that even purely honourable and chivalrous endeavors are not deserving of success.