Gotta Love that Villian

You could probably tell a lot about a person by fingering through their DVD collection. If you were to even glance at mine, you would say, "Looks like you have children." Of course, you might instead say, "I sure hope you have children." In my defense I don't buy DVDs for myself, but only for my two-year old daughter, but I do end up watching them … a lot. I, along with most parents I suppose, have become a connoisseur of children's videos. I am even to the point where I can tell you what years were good seasons for Barney and whether I prefer Steve or Joe.

But I am not here to justify my wounded pride, but to meekly admit that I've been watching Barbie in her Nutcracker video.

This Saturday while I was replacing the trim around the door of our TV room, I found myself repeating the phrases of my favorite character in the film … the evil Mouse King, "Alright Nutcracker, I should make you into something more useful … like kindling!"

Now it isn't that the writing for this made-for-video movie was that good (or even most of the acting), but the vocal phrasing of the villain makes him so entertaining. Even the animation of the Mouse King was better than the others.

Do we just love villains? Or are villains easier to play for actors? Are they easier to animate because the animators can get away with more facial expressions? You can tweak the lips of the villain even if it makes them ugly … things you can't do with ballerina Barbie.

But look at your favorite movie villain and watch just how entertaining they can be. In the hands of a Master Villian (like my personal favorite Tim Curry), you almost don't want the hero to succeed. You also don't want the villain to die because you want to see more of him.

But maybe our collective love affair with villains goes a bit deeper … This reminds me of a poem by Sara Henderson Hay, entitled The Witch:

It pleases me to give a man three wishes,
Then trick him into wasting every one.
To set the simpering goosegirl on the throne,
While the true princess weeps among the ashes.
I like to come unbidden to the christening,
Cackling a curse on the young princeling's head,
To slip a toad into the maiden's bed,
To conjure up the briers, the glass slope glistening.

And I am near, oh nearer than you've known.
You cannot shut me in a fairy book.
It was my step you heard, mine and my creature's,
Soft at your heel. And if you lean and look
Long in your mirror, you will see my features
Inextricably mingled with your own.

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