“Every character has a right to their own world view”

A question arose in the advanced screenwriting class I’m teaching about how to handle characters who aren’t likable. My response:

Every character, no matter how far afield we may think of them morally or whatever, has a right to their own world view. Look at Hannibal Lecter (The Silence of the Lambs, Manhunter). He’s one of the most fascinating characters in recent memory. He’s a ruthless killer, and yet he has his own moral code. For instance, when Clarice (Jodie Foster) first visits Lecter in prison, as she’s leaving, the cellmate (Miggs) next to Lecter hurls his semen onto Clarice. Lecter, who up to that point hasn’t opened up to her, calls Clarice back and decries Miggs’ actions — “Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me.” He then gives Clarice the first clue in what eventually leads to the solving of the Buffalo Bill case. He also gets into Miggs’ mind overnight so that Miggs commits suicide — by swallowing his own tongue.

If Lecter caused Miggs to kill himself just to get some sort of cheap thrills, then that’s one thing. But in his own way, he is (a) living according to his own moral code and (b) doing something to make amends to Clarice for Migg’s behavior. Indeed, we might even look at it as a sort of ‘love offering’ on Lecter’s part — as he is smitten with her.

So again, every character has the right to their own world view. And to the degree that we, as writers, share this world view with the reader so that they understand how the character sees the world, we invite understanding, empathy, even sympathy. How much more interesting do our characters become — especially the ‘bad’ ones — if generate understanding and sympathy for them with the reader?

Specifically re Protagonists, I’m reminded of the movie Sideways and the thoughts of its screenwriter Jim Taylor and screenwriter-director Alexander Payne about “sympathetic characters”:

“To me, it’s are we interested enough, do we want to watch that person…it’s complete horses**t that that’s what people want to see, is only sympathetic characters.” Taylor continues: “There are [kinds] of characters that appeal to us, and I don’t think we’re interested in people who don’t do anything wrong.”

Payne agrees: “I never talk about sympathetic characters. Number one, the truth is sympathetic. Number two, we make comedies so we want the movie to be sympathetic…we’re interested in people, we want to see truthful people…we show our love for people precisely by including all aspects [of a character], as many as we can, in the limited form of a two-hour film.” Payne says that if an exec says your protagonist isn’t sympathetic, just say: “It hasn’t been cast yet. That’s the answer.” The right actor can warm the audience up to any role, even if it appears unlikable on the page. Payne: “Why are we interested in Alex in A CLOCKWORK ORANGE? Why are we interested in Michael Corleone? They’re fascinating. What’s more interesting, a cobra or a kitten?” Beware, Payne says, “especially when you’re talking about likeable. Just avoid those discussions, they’re tiring. Don’t get lured into the turf of those discussions, because they’re moronic.”

In part what makes them fascinating is their unique world view. In Sideways, Miles (Paul Giamatti) is a depressed, alcoholic, failed writer who steals money from his own mother and is complicit in the affair between his best friend Jack (Thomas Haden Church) and another woman they meet on the road — days before Jack is to be married. And yet with all that baggage and as flawed as his world view is, we find ourselves lured into his story.

Every character has a right to their own world view — Good Guys and Bad Guys, heroines and villains, primary and tertiary.

And it’s up to us — as writers — to learn what those world views are.

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