Ten Unsung Villains in Film: Part 2

And now, the conclusion...

5. Commudus, Gladiator

"They tell me your son...squealed like a girl when they nailed him to the cross. And your wife... moaned like a whore when they ravaged her again and again... and again"

Often the best bad guys are the ones who, to a highly limited degree, are almost sympathetic. Of course, emotional strife and long standing daddy issues is a pretty good place to start.

In Ridley Scott's Gladiator, Commudus is the subject of Maximus's vengeance. He is the insecure young man who suffocates his father Marcus Aurelius to become Emperor, and orders both the hero's execution and the brutal killing of his family. In principle, he is borderline pantomine, a dog kicking villain with a needlessly cruel touch, pure evil as to give the protagonist sufficient ammunition to make his quest both understandable and supportable.

But on the strength of Joaquin Phoenix's performance, the character becomes much more than standard moustache twirling fare. An unusual piece of casting (and one Scott failed to pull off again with Oscar Isaac in Robin Hood), in that at this point Phoenix was still best known as a former child actor and the strangled voice on the infamous 911 call for River, his brother. But here, he brings something approaching pathos to an undoubtedly bad apple, but one stricken by self doubt, self deprecation and borderline psychosis, unloved by his family and his people, who has spent his life trying, and failing, to please his legendary father. Rather than pathetic, he is pitiful. Rather than loathesome, he is tragic. There is a complex dichonomy to this part, one bordering on Shakespeare, that makes his presence and actions fascinating. Russell Crowe may have won the Oscar, but his was not the best performance in the film.

4. David Kleinfeld, Carlito's Way

"Fuck you and your self-righteous code of the goddamn streets. Did it pull you out of a 30 year stint in only 5 years? No, it didn't, I did. Did it get you acquitted 4 fucking times? No, it didn't, I did, so fuck you, fuck the streets, your whole goddamn world is this big, and there's only one rule, you save your own ass"

Unrecognisable behind a frizzy, red haired 70's tribute band look and rounded spectacles, Sean Penn amazingly went for pure mercenary mode for Brian De Palma's crime thriller Carlito's Way, taking the part of shyster David Kleinfeld purely so he could fund his own film project, The Crossing Guard. Unlike most 'take the money and run' roles, however, Penn doesn't slouch an inch.

He plays completely against type as Al Pacino's titular character's lawyer and confidante, in Carlito's view a crusading young attorney with extraordinary abilities in the courtroom. However, the five years that he's been in the can have seen some big changes, and over the course of the film, he realises that Kleinfeld has mutated into a money grabbing, opportunist coke addict losing his grip on reality. His discovery that the man orchestrating his downfall, and feeding him to the New York D.A, in his best friend is as heartbreaking for the audience as it is for Carlito. And when Kleinfeld, calling in his favour, hooks our anti-hero into a final job to save his skin, we realise just how far the man has fallen into greed and dementia.

It is an extraordinary performance, played low key for the most part, which brings an authentic, human edge to the film's true bad guy, in essence a fallen angel passing Carlito on the way down crime's slippery slope. We only slowly begin to realise his true nature, his new self, by drip and drab, engulfed in addiction and depraved luxury. As much as he deserves his comeuppance, we also hope that he somehow comes round, that his undoubted chemistry with Pacino is rekindled. That we don't brings his character full arc, and makes the film what it is. Keep your friends close...

3. Gaer Grimsrud, Fargo

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll throw you back in the trunk, you know?"

Given that Fargo is something of a darkly comedic farce, and by dark I mean pitch black, it's a surprise that you could pick out a suitably evil villain from the catalogue of veritable idiots in attendance. But, while he takes a while to get going, Peter Stormare's Gaer, one half of the kidnapping duo along with Steve Buscemi's Carl, goes on to provide the film's richly disturbing dark heart, albeit it's hilarious one.

Non-talkative Swede Grimsrud spends much of his time with a vacant look on his face, cigarette drooping from his mouth, and regards his partner in crime Showater with nothing less than utter contempt. When the hapless duo are paid to kidnap William H Macy's wife, by Macy himself no less, they go about their business in a borderline slapstick manner, eventually prevailing through dumb luck. But the plan quickly goes to shit when Grimsrud decides to start taking overly judicuous action to protect himself and, of course, his money. From gunning down a young couple who witness his murder of a police officer, to his eventual killing of their hostage out of irritation, he turns out to be an utter psychopath, and suddenly his cold, dead eyes and lifeless facial expressions become terrifying.

This culminates in the film's famous finale, which includes Gaer, Frances McDormand's quirky copper Marge, and a woodchipper with a leg sticking out of it. Horribly funny and yet wholy disgusting at the same time, it sums up the character perfectly, episodes of extreme violence that never come without traces of gallows humour and knockabout daftness. From this film, Stormare carved out a career in Hollywood as a foreign crazy for hire, and it's no wonder. He's chilling here, albeit also ridiculous. It makes Marge's final indictment, her utter inability to understand why he would go so far for some money, all the more cutting.

2. Kit Carruthers, Badlands

"I shot him in the stomach"
"Was he mad?"
"He didn't say nothing to me about it..."

Here we have something of a rarity, a villain in a Terrence Malick film. But, going by the rules of creative compromise, he isn't really a villain anyway, instead actually the protagonist. And retrospectively, a demon.

Badlands is a strangely hypnotic and poetic film, seductive in its visuals and free flowing narrative, but also hugely original in it's completely ambivalent tone. We follow the journey of young, dispirited dreamers Kit and Holly, who ditch their hopeless home lives for a cross country homicidal road trip. And while Kit, played by Martin Sheen in his breakthrough role, is presented as an anti-hero archetype, he is clearly just a psychopath to Holly's happy witness sociopath, perversely the perfect couple.

As he kills police officers, rangers, old friends and his lover's strict father, he never seems to be anything other than a mysterious, charming and alluring presence, a free bird without purpose, a rebel without a cause. He never displays malice, blood thirst or enjoyment for his crimes, but commits them anyway, never truly able to express his motive or reasons, other than a pent up urge he has felt after years of dissatisfaction. Personality childlike, and strutting hip, he stares at the world around him in wonderment even as he destroys a small part of it, gaining unintended fame.

The most effective part of all this is that it comes in retrospect. Sheen, mesmeric and charismatic, never plays Kit as a villain, and Malick never builds him up to be one. It's this neutral tone which means you don't really appreciate the horror of his killing spree until after the end credits roll, when he is happily on his way to the electic chair. It is an image, and an ideal, that stays with you for some time after viewing.

1. Jimmy Conway, Goodfellas

" I'm not mad, I'm proud of you. You took your first pinch like a man and you learn two great things in your life. Never rat on your friends and always keep your mouth shut"

Let's not beat around the bush here, Goodfellas is pretty much objectively a brilliant film. Subjectively, it's one of the best. And as much as it's seductive and glamorous presentation of the mafia is its key strength, it also benefits from some genius storytelling and what could cynically be described as tropes.

One of these inspired moves is hard to frame because of the film's fairly authentic take on a true story, but is sublimely pulled off. The issue of a villain in Goodfellas is hard to tackle, because the villains are the good guys, the protagonists, and the big bad of the story is the law. Going beyond that, you naturally deviate towards Joe Pesci's menacing and terrifying Tommy DeVito as being the biggest of the do-baders, and rightfully so. But this is a great mode of decoy.

The film's real villain is the subtle one, Robert De Niro's ultimate nice guy James 'Jimmy' Conway (based on real life Irish mobster Jimmy Burke). While Tommy chews scenery and scares the shit out of all manner of player, Conway surveys his field, watches closely his friends, fed by his paranoia over being found out. Introduced as a charismatic wise guy, handing out hundred dollar bills to waiters and doormen, a friendly arm on the shoulders of young Henry Hill, his true nature is much darker, far more insidious.

He has his own crew wiped out because he fears they will rat him out, as portrayed in the Layla Piano Exit montage, following the Lufthansa heist, is happy to help out Tommy's rage induced murder of Billy Batts, and partakes in most of the film's genuinely evil actions. And he does so behind a veneer of cold calm, precise and deadly, motivated by overkill motives. While Tommy is a nutter, Jimmy isn't, he doesn't have the temperament to use as an excuse. He is fully aware of the implications of every one of his murders, and carries them out anyway, and has forgotten about it five minutes later.

It's almost invisible, and takes more than one viewing to fully appreciate, and even then is only really made clear by De Niro's wonderful performance, one of the most subtle and underplayed of his long and distinguished career. His decision to wack the loud mouthed Morrie, played entirely visually to the tune of Cream's Sunshine of Your Love, only lasts about twenty seconds, but is the greatest example of non-verbal acting ever put on screen. That you can see exactly what he's thinking, cigarette as prop, with barely any giveaways in his facial expressions, is simply mesmeric. Again, this one clip is a summation of the rotten core of the character, but also the crystalisation of De Niro's behemoth acting prowess.

Also, it proves to be pivottal within the film's plot. It is Jimmy's irrational fear of snitches, and feelings of neccessity towards violent clearing of house, that proves to be his downfall, driving Henry towards the feds and witness protection. And it's fully deserved. Conway is not so much the dark horse, as much as he is the snake to Pesci's dragon, the real devilish menace. That you are barely able to recognise just how evil he truly is, unable to comprehend him as the real villain, is a compliment to a layered performance and a perfectly played cinematic long con.

Honourable Mentions

D-Fens, Falling Down

Holly, Badlands

Jame Gumb, Silence of the Lambs

L'il Ze, City of God

Arthur Burns, The Proposition