Often
times when watching movies we find ourselves feeling sympathetic for the “bad
guy” or the villain, even if the acts they are committing are atrocious. These
conflicting emotions of sympathy and knowing that what the villains are doing
is wrong often battle it out in our heads when watching films. Horror
filmmakers have toyed with audiences in this way for decades, however one of the
first horror film directors to really emphasize and utilize this conflict was
Tod Browning. Additionally, actor Lon Chaney was one of the first actors who played
a number of dark characters that evoked feelings of pity even if they were
monsters, such as the Phantom in Phantom
of the Opera, the hunchback in Hunchback
of Notre Dame, and Alonzo in The
Unknown. Chapter Five of Rick Worland’s book, The Horror Film: An
Introduction, discusses Browning’s manipulation of the audience’s sympathy
in his films as well as Chaney’s work. Worland writes, “These often-ambiguous
reactions to the monster are the aspects of the horror film that readily admit
the work of Lon Chaney” (p. 146). Lon
Chaney’s portrayal of Alonzo in The
Unknown is particularly gripping, and I found I most sympathized with his
character’s unrequited love for Nanon.
Even though Alonzo is extremely
manipulative and murderous, I couldn’t help identifying with him when he would
try and get Nanon’s favor and Malabar would show up with flowers, for example.
I know Alonzo has bad intentions but I still felt slightly bad for him,
especially when Nanon receives the flowers well. I found myself wanting her to
be with Malabar because I knew he was the safe choice, but also not entirely
wanting Alonzo to be rejected, as it seems he in his own way really cares for
Nanon. Chaney plays to the pathos of the audience in this way, and as Worland
discusses in his book, the audience reacts because “we indicate a recognition
of the monster’s dilemma as in some way our own” (p. 146).
Arguably the biggest moment of pity
for Alonzo is the scene in which he returns from the hospital after actually
cutting off his arms in order to win over Nanon, only to find that she has
gotten over her fear of men’s hands and is engaged to Malabar. I couldn’t help
but feel bad for him, as Chaney contorts his face from one of confusion, to
understanding, rage, and finally complete despair. Even though he totally
screwed himself over and it’s clearly his own fault, I still pity him, as he
has to watch Nanon and Malabar show off some major PDA, while trying to keep
his face civil. After this interaction though, I found the moments of
sympathizing with Alonzo were few and far between as he became increasingly
unhinged and plotted Malabar’s murder. 
The final moment that I found played
to the pathos of the audience and left me still feeling slightly bad for
Alonzo, was when Chaney’s character pushes Nanon out of the way of the moving
treadmills, and instead falls on them himself and is trampled to death. In this
way Browning leaves the audience once again feeling conflicted about Alonzo, in
the way that other horror movies such as Frankenstein evoke sympathy for the
monster. I think by creating this conflict in viewers, it adds more dimension
to a horror movie. If everything were really black and white, it would be easy
to just hate the bad guy in a movie. However, when dimensions of pity and
sympathy are added in, as well as moments of human compassion, it tells a more
compelling and rich horror story that has a greater impact and leaves you
really thinking.
We should probably discuss further the degrees to which our movies elicit sympathy for their monsters--and why. I think this question will become more pertinent when we arrive at the 70s, when slashers such as Michael Myers and Leatherface behave nearly as programmed, mindless killing machines fueled by childhood traumas and/or the normalized domestic violence of a dysfunctional family. No confused warbles and begging hand motions from these monsters. Thanks, India.
ReplyDeleteI am also interested in sympathetic "bad guys"-- I watched the Lon Chaney Phantom of the Opera, and it's a very similar situation. I think we want to root for Alonzo because we can relate to his desires (he wants to be loved) even though his desire manifests itself in a violent and disturbing way. It's also interesting that the sympathetic villain is often tied to disfigurement (like Richard III). The idea that disfigurement is connected to an evil personality can help elicit sympathy for the bad guy, because it implies he didn't have complete control over his bad nature-- I don't know how Alonzo fits into this narrative, since he is born with one disfigurement (double thumb) but also causes his own disfigurement by removing his arms.
ReplyDeleteI think another reason we sympathize with this bad guy is because he's the main character; I wouldn't say he's a "pro"tagonist, but he's the character we get the most insight into throughout the film. (Even if some of those insights are through Cojo). I've noticed that several of the first films we watched in class (Frankenstein, Cat People) have characters who do "bad" things, but are we supposed to view them as "bad" characters? Meanwhile in the later films (Shadow of a Doubt, The Night of the Hunter) I didn't feel any sympathy or understanding for Uncle Charlie or Harry. Maybe the idea of the "villain" didn't emerge until later, and the more ambiguous "bad...ish" guy was more common in the earlier twentieth century.
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