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Culture
Film & TV
Monsters
5 min read

Cartoon villains: who's the real baddie?

What kind of villain do we want?

James is a writer of sit coms for TV and radio.

 A cartoon chase sees a car driven by a cow escaping from a car of baddies under a giant poster of their villainous boss.
Jazz Cow vs. Dr Popp.

“Nobody thinks they’re the bad guy”. That’s a phrase I often use when helping people write situation comedies. It’s always useful to have a strong antagonist who gets in the way of our hero. But the villains tend not to consider themselves to be evil. In fact, they are offended at the suggestion. 

The Batman universe has turned the interesting villain to new levels. The Penguin is Gotham’s latest production, a brand-new TV series on HBO. Colin Farrell plays a highly nuanced anti-hero, exploring The Penguin’s “awkwardness, and his strength, and his villainy, yes, his propensity for violence”. Farrell told Comicbook.com he was attracted to the role because “there's also a heartbroken man inside there you know, which just makes it really tasty.” Audiences are often invited to have sympathy for the devil. Should we be worried about the blurring of the lines between good and evil? 

I’ve been asking myself this question as I’ve been writing a new animation which involves a villain called Dr Popp who is trying to take over a city. But what kind of villain do we want in 2024? 

Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of The Joker back in 1989 feels like pop-culture ancient history. His Joker was an embittered agent of chaos without many redeeming qualities but mercifully lacked the nihilism of later versions. It was an old-fashioned story of cops and robbers which has its own simplistic charm. But have those days gone forever, having been shot in the head and dropped off a bridge into a river? 

The problem is it is so easy to humanise evil. You just give it a human face. The arch-villains of the twentieth century – the Nazi members of the SS – are rather sweet when portrayed by comedians Mitchell and Webb. A nervous member of the SS Unit (Mitchell) waiting for an attack from the Russians looks at the skull on his cap and asks his fellow comrade-in-arms (Webb): “Hans, are we the baddies?” 

Any student of World War Two will know that it’s never as simple as good versus evil. Many terrible things were done by people who felt justified in their behaviour. Moreover, ‘the goodies’ also felt compelled to do morally dubious things – like the bombing of civilians in cities – in order to defeat ‘the baddies. After all, they started it.’ The truth is always far more complicated than the war films suggest. 

Dr Popp is the very worst kind of villain: he has great power and he wants to help. In his own mind, he’s completely clear about his mission. 

Ten years ago, I was researching real life baddies for my sitcom Bluestone 42 about a bomb disposal team set in Afghanistan. At times, I had to think like the Taliban who, in their own minds, were entirely justified in leaving bombs by the side of the road, to be triggered by British soldiers or Afghan children. They were pretty relaxed about the outcome. It’s hard to sympathise with this way of thinking, but it made sense to them. 

My internet search history from that time probably put me on some sort of Home Office watchlist. Maybe a small dossier was started on me. More recently, that dossier would have become thicker as I’ve moved sideways from sitcom into murder mysteries, having recently worked on Death in Paradise and Shakespeare and Hathaway. To work on shows like these, you need to be thinking of good reasons for good people to commit murder. Someone would need a very strong motive to commit a murder on an idyllic Caribbean island where the local detective has a 100 per cent resolution rate. You also need to research ingenuous methods for murdering people in a way that escapes detection. I’m surprised I’ve not yet had a knock on my door, or enquiries made to the neighbours to call a number if they see anything suspicious. 

But what about cartoon villains where nothing is real? The bold colours and the larger-than-life characters might suggest that there is more clarity about goodies and baddies. But there isn’t. Evil villains – that is, villains who realise they are evil – are extremely rare. Skeletor from He-Man and the Masters of the Universe comes to mind. This kind of demonic baddie can be entertaining with wit and charm, like Hades in the Disney movie, Hercules. This character had some brilliant one-liners and was superbly brought to life by the voice of James Woods. Overall, however, purely evil characters are hard to write. 

Cartoon villains need proper motivation. This is either a character flaw or a backstory. In The Lion King, Scar is consumed with envy that his brother is king – and a good one at that. In The Incredibles, Syndrome is playing out his sense of injustice that he was not allowed to be Mr Incredible’s sidekick, Incrediboy. In The Simpsons, Mr Burns is essentially Mr Potter from It’s a Wonderful Life. He’s a Scrooge-type figure who doesn’t care about love and respect. He just wants to own the town. 

The cartoon villain I’ve been thinking about is for a new animation project I’ve been working on called Jazz Cow. The eponymous hero is a saxophone-playing cow and a reluctant Bogart-style leader of a bohemian band of misfits. They are trying resist the advance of the all-consuming algorithm created by Dr Popp, the villain. But what’s his motivation? 

Dr Popp is the very worst kind of villain: he has great power and he wants to help. In his own mind, he’s completely clear about his mission. He’s trying to make the world better, easier, safer, cheaper, more efficient and convenient. Why would anyone want to refuse his technology, reject his software and keep away from his algorithm? 

This is why Dr Popp has to silence Jazz Cow, literally, by stealing his saxophone. He simply cannot allow Jazz Cow to delight audiences at Connie Snott’s with live improvised music. There’s no need for this music! Dr Popp has all the music you could possibly need, want or imagine. Why improvise when we have artificial intelligence? 

Dr Popp is a cartoon villain for today when relativism is still alive and well. ‘Good’ and ‘Evil’ are still concepts or points of view rather than absolutes. However, there is good and evil in Jazz Cow. But the evil doesn’t come from Doctor Popp. It comes from the user or consumer.  That would be us. 

‘The Algorithm’ is always learning and always trying to give us our hearts’ desire. And that’s the problem: our hearts frequently desire that which they cannot – and should not – have. Dr Popp’s algorithm is like a mirror held up to our faces. In it, we see the real baddie: ourselves. Not even Jazz Cow can save us from that. But what this horn-playing cow can do is to make the world a more humane place. 

  

For more information about Jazz Cow, and information on how you can make the show happen, take a look at our Kickstarter – and don’t worry. Jazz Cow would approve, as it’s the creative’s way of sticking IT to the man. 

Review
Addiction
Culture
Feminism
Music
5 min read

The idolatry of Beyoncé: her tour hits town with eight golden calves in tow

We all desire to be perceived as more talented, confident and beautiful.

Lauren Windle is an author, journalist, presenter and public speaker.

Beyonce marches along a stage catwalk as photographers stare from below.
Taking to the stage.
Beyoncé.com.

I suspect if you asked British millennial women to name their queen, more would say Beyoncé than Camilla Parker Bowles. Such is the allure and popularity of the woman who commands legions of fans, ‘the BeyHive’, and has been dubbed ‘Queen B’. Now this pop monarch is on the move and she’s brought her royal tour to London.  

Last night the Cowboy Carter tour lit up Tottenham Hotspur Stadium in an ostentatious display of stars, stripes and glitter. I joined the throngs of fans who packed out the arena to hear the hits from Beyoncé’s first country album, protected from the rain by only their sequin-lined cowboy hats. 

A massive screen provided video entertainment during costume changes. It depicted her two settings; siren and saviour. In some of the imagery Beyoncé was veiled or illuminated by bright white lights, in modern iconography that would previously have been reserved for the Blessed Virgin Mary. During her song Daughter, with lyrics: ‘Cleanse me, Holy Trinity’, she was backdropped by stained-glass church windows. 

Beyoncé is hardly the first to draw from the style of religion in her work (see: Madonna). But, when I came back from the bathroom, the performer was midway through her song Tyrant, riding a gold mechanical bull while surrounded by eight double-headed golden calves. That’s when I realised, we’re not even pretending this isn’t idolatry anymore. 

As a recovering addict (arguably the most extreme expression of idolatry), I am interested in the processes behind idol worship. I have spent weeks studying Aaron’s ill-fated decision to melt down gold jewellery into a calf at the request of the Israelites who thought Moses, and God, were taking too long up Mount Sinai, followed by the disastrous repetition of history under King Jeroboam I.

We take these cautionary tales and usually apply them to the metaphorical calves in our own lives, but still the golden calf endures as the ultimate symbol of idol worship. Would Beyoncé have known this? Almost certainly, given the other Christian imagery sprinkled throughout the show. 

The Queen 

For those only vaguely aware of Beyoncé, I’ll explain how the global obsession came about. She was raised by parents who were committed to her success. Her mum made all her costumes while her dad formed and managed the girl band Destiny’s Child, of which Beyoncé was the lead singer. She famously grew up honing her singing talent while on a treadmill to ensure that she would maintain her voice during energetic dances on stage.  

Destiny’s Child enjoyed a huge amount of success, even if their message of female empowerment was confused. They started with the expectation that a partner would pay their ‘bills, bills, bills’, then sung of their desire to ‘cater’ to their men, before a violent U-turn declaring themselves to be ‘independent women’. The mixed messaging didn’t put off their fans, but it was when Beyoncé teamed up with her now husband, Jay-Z, that she experienced a meteoric rise to fame and became the breakout solo artist from the band. 

She has experienced some scandal over her career, most notably in 2014 when CCTV footage was leaked of her sister Solange attacking her husband Jay-Z in a lift. It was rumoured that this was in response to his infidelity but no formal statement was made. Beyoncé, like our former Queen, lives by the mantra ‘never complain, never explain’. 

Over the years, as the record sales have grown, so has her cult-like status. ‘You have the same number of hours in the day as Beyoncé’ is used as a motivational tool (although I can’t say it’s ever worked on me). Some have even hi-jacked and modified the French national motto to: Liberté, Égalité, Beyoncé. Her allure is increasingly less about her music and more about what she embodies; the ability to seemingly have everything – motherhood, a stratospheric career and the dream face and body. 

The problem 

To be clear; I don’t think admiring Beyoncé or enjoying her music is a bad thing. I am the one who paid more than £200 to go and do just that. But, with a few notable exceptions, almost everything we idolise fundamentally has the capacity to be a force for good in our lives, if it’s kept in its right place. It’s the classic Christian cliché; don’t let a good thing become a God thing. Take food, exercise and your phone, these can all do immeasurable good in enhancing your quality of life, but when they become an idol, they can also do immeasurable harm. 

It is often said that we become what we worship. Well in the context of idolising Beyoncé many people would say that’s a fate they would happily welcome. But the reality is darker than that. 

What are we really saying when we idolise Beyoncé and bow down to her golden calves? I would suggest on the surface it’s a desire to be perceived as more talented, confident and beautiful. It’s the panic that we should be perfect, especially given that Beyoncé achieves that perfection in the same twenty-four daily hours that we have. It’s a deep longing to be desired as she is, to be popular as she is, to be regularly affirmed as she is. 

Let’s go deeper. Does God say that we need to have visible talent in order to be valuable? No. He says we are all a part of a body with our own unique skills that contribute to the entire organism. Some of those skills will be discrete and often overlooked by people, but that makes them no less valuable to God. Does God say we should be beautiful? No. Jesus wasn’t exceptionally physically attractive, as far as we know. If anything the Bible warns against putting stock in such a fleeting resource. Are we called to be confident in ourselves? No. But we are told that flourishing comes from a confidence in God. 

My fear is that if we chase visible talent, we will always feel that we are lacking and unrecognised. If we chase beauty, we will always feel ugly and if we chase Beyoncé-level confidence, we will always feel small. The idol that should theoretically inspire us to greater things, ends up leaving us feeling boxed in by unhelpful and unachievable goals. It leaves us caged by the comparison and always a step behind. 

Adding to the heartbreak, the thing that we’re emulating and idolising, is never as satiating as we believe it to be. Had I stormed the stage, I would have found those calves to be moulded from plastic and sprayed gold. Just as I would find the performer to be a bit tired and flawed like the rest of us. The reality is, even Beyoncé won’t live up to the idol of Beyoncé. While in contrast, the correct focus for our worship, Jesus, will only ever get better with closer inspection. 

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