Here’s a startling truth: most movies don’t fail because the hero is weak – they fail because the villain is boring.
Start with Rehman Dakait from Dhurandhar or the Joker in Batman. You walk into the theatre expecting to root for the hero… and walk out still quoting the villain. That’s not accidental.
As Alfred Hitchcock once said, “The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture.”
Translation: heroes may wear capes, but villains run the emotional economy of the film.
Villains do what we secretly want to do
They say the thing we censor.
They break the rule we politely obey.
They choose power over approval.
Joker doesn’t seek validation – he seeks truth, even if it’s ugly.
Rehman Dakait doesn’t play safe – he plays to win.
We may not agree with them, but we admire their audacity.
Because deep down, we’re tired of being the “nice, reasonable, well-adjusted” ones.
Villains are brutally honest
Heroes are designed to inspire. Villains are designed to reveal.
They call out hypocrisy. They expose cracks in society.
They point to the lies we collectively live with.
Martin Scorsese once observed that “A villain is a catalyst for the hero’s self-discovery.”
Villains have better inner lives
Heroes are driven by duty.
Villains are driven by obsession, wounds, desire, revenge, identity.
That makes them richer characters.
Their moral maze is more interesting than a straight moral compass.
Watching them is like peeking into the forbidden parts of the human psyche – thrilling, uncomfortable, addictive.
Villains free us from pretending
We live in a world of polite LinkedIn smiles and curated Instagram kindness.
Villains don’t perform goodness.
They are who they are. No filters. No PR.
No virtue signaling. Just raw intent. That’s oddly refreshing.
Christopher Nolan said it best: “The better the villain, the better the story.” Because a strong villain forces the hero – and the audience – to confront uncomfortable truths.
The real takeaway
We don’t love villains because they are evil.
We love them because they are honest about their darkness.
So here’s the reflection:
– Where in your life are you playing too safe, too polite, too agreeable?
– Where am I choosing comfort over truth?
– Which part of me have I muted just to remain acceptable?
– What rule am I still following that no longer serves who I am becoming?
– If I stopped trying to be liked, what would I finally dare to say or do?
You don’t need to become a villain.
But you do need a little of their courage – to stop pretending and start choosing.
Because sometimes, the real villain isn’t the bad guy on screen…
It’s the fear that keeps the good guy in you from being bold.