How to Write an Iconic Villain
English screenwriter and director Alfred Hitchcock was among the most influential figures in the history of cinema. The great master famously said: The more successful the villain, the more powerful the story.
A great villain can make or break a story. When well-executed, they can be more memorable than a strong protagonist. Think Darth Vader, Hannibal Lecter, or Iago - characters who send shivers down your spine. Crafting a villain with such an effect is no mean feat, so today let’s examine the ingredients required to bake a perfectly unforgettable villain.
What is a villain
First, it’s worth deciphering what separates a villain from an antagonist. An antagonist is the opposite of a protagonist, operating as an obstacle or challenge for your hero to overcome. They can do so for whatever reason works - it may be selfish, it may be altruistic. All that matters is that it clashes with your protagonist’s goal.
A villain, on the other hand, comes with a moral judgment attached. They don’t just oppose the protagonist - they pursue their own sinister or nefarious self-serving agenda. While every villain is an antagonist, not every antagonist qualifies as a villain.
This distinction matters. An antagonist can be impersonal, like a natural disaster, a mindless creature, or a lethal virus. A villain, however, is the mastermind behind the chaos - the one controlling the weather device, engineering the monster, or propagating the disease.
Motivation
A great villain needs strong motivation. There are countless reasons someone might turn to villainy. You don’t need to go into great detail, what’s crucial is that the audience understands the why of it all. Understanding doesn’t mean sympathizing - rather, it means recognizing the internal logic that drives their actions.
In Ridley Scott’s Gladiator, Commodus stands out as a truly loathsome villain, ruling Rome with ruthless cruelty. He’s not just a weak leader - he’s a spoiled child who murders his father, betrays his people, and thrives on cowardice. He craves love and fear but lacks the strength to earn either, so he resorts to cruelty. While we could dive into his past to uncover what made him this way, it’s ultimately irrelevant. What matters is the now. His motivation is clear in its simplicity; if they won’t love me, they will fear me.
There is a long, long list of motivations which could be considered cliché, but remember - nothing is considered cliché when it’s well executed. You can take a stock motivation and turn it into something exceptional with careful planning. Just make sure it’s relevant to the hero!
Why is a villain important for storytelling
To create an unforgettable villain, you need to have a clear understanding of your theme. Let’s say your thematic thesis is that the family you choose is more important than the family you’re born into. You might start with a protagonist who’s on the fence about this, only for them to experience setbacks with their biological family and growth with their chosen family throughout the story. By the end, they’ll align with the theme.
This is where the villain comes in. To introduce conflict, you make them the embodiment of the opposite argument: the antithesis. By crafting a villain who believes blood is thicker than water, you set up a powerful contrast between the hero’s journey and the villain’s worldview. This results in tension between your hero and villain, who are fundamentally opposed.
Think of your villain as the inverse of your protagonist. If your hero is on a quest, the villain represents what they could become if they fail. They’re not just an obstacle - they’re a constant reminder of what’s at risk. The villain is the version of the hero’s worst fears, a living example of the consequences of failure. In many cases, the hero requires the villain to push them to extremes and achieve their true objective.
Make your villain a foil for your hero
The best villains match the hero in meaningful ways, creating effective conflict. They’re the perfect foil, challenging the hero on multiple fronts by either matching their skillset or possessing the ability to nullify it.
Take Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, for example. What makes Luke special in A New Hope? His connection to the Force, his skill as a pilot, and his tenacity. Vader, however, is a dark reflection of Luke. He has a superior command of the Force, more experience as a pilot, and enhanced with mechanical durability. Empire takes it even further by revealing that Vader is Luke’s father, exploiting a deep weakness - Luke’s lack of family. Then Jedi reveals the human side of Vader, showing us what Luke could become if he succumbs to the dark side. Each facet is an inverse of something about our hero, leading this archetype sometimes being called the ‘evil twin.’
To use another example - examine Superman and Lex Luthor. The former is an idealist, a symbol of optimism with nearly god-like powers. Luthor is a self-made billionaire, an industrial realist, and can only leverage his fortunes against Superman’s unchecked power. These are complete opposites that complement one another. This archetype I tend to consider a ‘puzzle piece’ - they connect and match the hero - a yin and yang.
Equip your villain with the skills required to challenge the hero on multiple fronts. Physically, morally, spiritually. Be careful to match your villain with your hero. Make them complementary to one another! The more ways they challenge one another, the richer and more dynamic your story becomes.
Sympathetic villains
Koba in Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Thanos in the Marvel movies, Norman Bates in Psycho.
We’re living in the era of the sympathetic villain. Comic book movies have built upon the legacy of complex antagonists like Roy Batty and Darth Vader, ensuring nearly every villain is redeemable - often to keep them around for future use. It’s easy to assume audiences want layered, tragic antagonists, but I postulate that we’re moving past that phase.
When even the simplest good vs. evil, black and white stories start forcing shades of grey, audiences can grow tired of feeling obligated to empathize. Sometimes, a truly irredeemable villain is the stronger choice - especially when your hero embodies true good. Pure, unrelenting evil can be just as compelling as moral ambiguity when done right.
That said, the most compelling villains aren’t evil just for the hell of it - they should have a point that makes complete sense from their twisted perspective. If you can make them 49% right, you strike the perfect balance: we understand their objective, maybe even see the logic in it, but ultimately reject their methods. This adds depth without forcing sympathy, making their conflict with the hero more engaging. A villain who’s almost right - but takes things too far - feels all the more dangerous.
HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey is a perfect example of the wrong method for the right reason. Programmed to ensure the success of the mission, HAL identifies human error as the greatest threat - and acts accordingly by attempting to eliminate the crew. From a purely logical standpoint, his reasoning makes sense. We can’t blame HAL for seeing things this way, he’s just following his code. But did he handle the situation correctly? Absolutely not.
Or check out Kilmonger in Black Panther. He wants to utilize Wakanda’s hidden fortunes to liberate oppressed communities and overthrow oppressive regimes. In another story, he might be the hero, but because he sees murder and violent revolution as morally justifiable, he’s the villain.
One problem with the sympathetic villain is that their flaws and past traumas often become exploitable weaknesses. The moment we see their scars, we understand how they can be defeated. While this can create satisfying arcs, it also risks making them too easy to overcome. Don’t make your villain too beatable. Avoid introducing them and immediately handing the audience the answer to How on earth can we stop them?
True evil
The Joker in The Dark Knight, Anton Chirgurh in No Country for Old Men, Hannibal Lector in Silence of the Lambs.
Some men just want to watch the world burn. There’s a reason the Devil is one of the most frequently depicted figures in cinema. At the opposite end of the spectrum from the sympathetic villain is pure evil - a force that exists solely to corrupt, destroy, or sow chaos. These are agents of chaos, bumps in the night, a prevailing sense of dread. People have long been obsessed with evil incarnate, and an embodiment of all the ills of the world is a terrific tool for storytelling.
These villains don’t necessarily have tragic origins or reasonable explanations for their actions, and if they do, they’re excuses in place to justify their terrible actions. They exist as foils for the heroes or manifestations of primal wrongs.
To quote a great line from a terrible movie - M. Bison in Street Fighter (1994) tells Chun-Li: For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me, it was Tuesday. This line reveals so much about Bison: destroying her village, killing her father, all of it meant nothing to him - while it was the defining moment of her life. There’s no redeemable quality or sympathy for this kind of evil. It’s utterly indifferent to the suffering it causes.
This archetype is perfect for a satisfying conclusion. When your villain has no redeeming qualities, the audience will be itching to see their downfall. Their eventual defeat can provide a deeply satisfying payoff. Or, if you want to be truly ruthless, you can withhold their consequences and let them get away with it.
Twist villain
Keyser Söze in The Usual Suspects, Prince Hans in Frozen, Jim Phelps in Mission: Impossible.
A twist villain doesn't just deceive the characters; they also deceive the audience. When done right, it’s a gut-punch, both shocking and provocative. But be cautious - it’s a risky move. If you don’t lay the groundwork properly, it can feel underwhelming or too obvious. The goal with a twist villain is for the audience to think, How did I not see that coming? instead of I never saw that coming.
The best instances ensure that we know a villain does exist out there somewhere in the world, but keeps them hidden right under our noses. A mistake I frequently read from young writers is only revealing that a villain exists at all in the final act, meaning we had an absence of antagonism for nearly all of the narrative.
Based in truth
Why is Professor Umbridge more hateable than Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter? Denethor more detestable than Sauron Lord of the Rings? Beni more punchable than Imhotep in The Mummy?
Psychologist Carl Jung has a theory on shadow projection which I feel strongly applies to villainy; Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. A compassionate person will identify compassion in others, and likewise - we have a strong reaction to villains that represent the worst aspects of ourselves buried deep within.
This is why the human right-hands of more abstract villains are often worse. We could feasibly become selfish, hateful, sadistic, or power hungry. These are traits humans could succumb to, while becoming a resurrected snake wizard, primordial spirit, or bandaged myth… not so much.
The best way to craft a great villain is to base them on someone or something you feel strongly about, or fear becoming. Drawing inspiration from a boss, a principal, a fascist, or anyone who has stirred intense emotion in you can serve as a solid foundation. People that occupy a lot of our thinking are sometimes the people we understand best, and thus are strong grounds for inception. Who would you rather see punched in the mouth, Biff Tannen from Back to the Future or Galactus from The Fantastic Four? Despite his crimes being negligible compared to eating planets, Biff represents bullies we’ve all come across in our personal lives and we thus have a stronger connection to him.
Let the villain take control
The most effective way to define a villain is by showcasing their actions. Characters are defined not by their words, but by what they do. Dialogue can hint at their backstory or explain past deeds, but it’s what they’re going to do next that makes a lasting impression. A prime example is Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs. While we learn about his past crimes, it’s his escape and the cold, calculated execution of his plans that cement his place as an unforgettable villain.
Step into your villain’s shoes and let them drive their own actions. Embody them, try to understand things from their point of view, give in to your impulses. And second-guess yourself, try to remain unpredictable! They should never become so transparent that their every move is foreseeable. There should always be something shadowy, elusive, and undefinable within their personality - an element that keeps them impossible to fully understand.
Make them memorable
An unforgettable villain will have a combination of memorable traits. Appearance, motivation, method are all vital facets. If you can ensure a unique approach to at least two of these dimensions, you’ve probably got something memorable.
To distinguish your villain, go beyond just their physical appearance. While classic villains like Bond’s foes, Darth Vader, the Joker, and Freddy Krueger are often physically disfigured to reflect their inner scars, this trope has become predictable and subject to parody. It's important to focus on how they’re written and what makes them unique in action. Vader is a masked figure wielding a laser sword, a symbol that blurs the line between man and machine in a universe inhabited by both. Freddy Krueger, meanwhile, kills in your dreams with a knived glove, wielding near-omnipotent, reality-warping power. Their physical scars may be memorable, but it’s their methods and abilities that truly set them apart and make them unforgettable.
Instead, consider turning something innocent into a deadly trait. A baby-faced killer would likely be more memorable than another menacing psychopath. You might expect a vampire villain in a horror set in 1900, but would you expect a vampiric villain in ancient Rome? Find ways to make your villain stand out from the competition.
Avoid the temptation to make your villain purely a physical threat. The most memorable villains don’t just rely on brute force; they use manipulation to achieve their goals, deceiving both allies and enemies into doing their bidding. By keeping a degree of separation from their actions, they maintain a level of plausible deniability, making their evil even more insidious. It’s this subtlety and cunning that often makes a villain far more dangerous than one who’s simply strong or violent.
Consider introducing a secondary villain to add depth to the conflict. Take Vader, for example - he’s the enforcer, the right-hand man to the Emperor. While Vader presents a physical threat that the hero must overpower, it’s the Emperor who represents the true challenge: the mastermind your hero must outwit, outthink, and defeat on a moral level. This dynamic creates a layered villainous structure, where the hero faces different types of opposition, each demanding a unique approach.
Who do you want your villain to be?
The Bully - The greatest bullies are themselves victims of bullying. Vader by the Emperor in Return of the Jedi. Johnny by Kreese in The Karate Kid. A bully is a villain junior - they nearly always require some kind of redemption, but not before your hero gets a few licks in.
The Mastermind - These are the moustache twirling villains of old - with elaborate schemes for your hero to unravel. Hans Gruber in Die Hard. The Riddler in The Batman. They are always several steps ahead… until they aren’t.
The Henchman - These are the brawn to the mastermind’s brain, a physical threat for your hero to do battle against. Luv from Blade Runner 2049, Oddjob in Goldfinger. They can be willing participants or unwittingly recruited.
The Authority - You’re familiar with the ‘just following orders’ type of villain - think Richard "Dick" Vernon in The Breakfast Club or Sheriff Buford T Justice in Smokey and the Bandit. They could simply be a cog in a corporate machine or they could revel in their taste of power.
The Agent of Chaos - The trickster archetype may have ambitions or directives, but they truly do it for the love of disharmony. The Joker in The Dark Knight, Lorne Malvo in season one of Fargo, Castor Troy in Face/Off. These are the curveball characters you can have the most fun with.
Conclusion
So now we have a better idea of how to craft compelling and memorable villains for our narratives. I’ve put together a checklist for writers below; consider these questions while you’re outlining and developing ideas for your next clash of good and evil.
Is my villain hateable? Are they more than an antagonist, but a sinister foe?
Does my villain have strong motivation? Is it communicable and logical?
Do I need a compelling backstory to justify their villainy?
Are they a suitable match for my hero?
Is my villain sympathetic or are they irredeemable?
Does my villain have traits that are based in reality?
Can I make my villain more distinguishable? If I were to transplant them into another screenplay, would they feel out of place?
What will my villain’s legacy be? What is their most memorable characteristic?