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Darth Vader Why The Villain’s Perspective Matters


Introduction

In recent years there have only been very few major scale productions in entertainment that had morally ambiguous or even villainous characters at the forefront. Marvel’s comic book adaptation Darth Vader not only takes it upon itself to fill in the gap between Episode 3 and Episode 4 of the Star Wars epoch but also does so utilizing a seemingly uncommon perspective. While the Star Wars universe is one of prospering heroism and not short of a great variety of heroes, the reader gets to experience a different point of view this time – namely the one of Darth Vader. Still far from being said major scale production, Marvel’s take on furthering the background story of the iconic super-villain is a treat for anyone looking to explore the Star Wars epoch a little more as well as for those curious about a shift in perspective from hero to villain.

At times, reading Darth Vader feels like a guilty pleasure. Watching him crush his enemies with ruthless determination or spin intrigues makes you as the reader feel powerful. Through both visual narrative and written narrative, complex moral and ethical questions are brought up without a connotational nudge of how the events depicted should be interpreted by the reader. This type of morally ambiguous content is what this essay seeks to explore. At the centre of its interest is the desire to understand what makes evil fascinating to explore or experience in this specific cultural text. What makes violence and power so intriguing or to put it in a more blunt fashion: Why is it so interesting to experience a story through the eyes of a villain? This blog attempts to unpack what the reading experience does to the reader and will try to answer this question by pointing out a number of reasons for said fascination.

The entirety of the Star Wars saga resolves around and is affected by the actions committed by one specific character – Anakin Skywalker, later known as Darth Vader. He manifests himself in the biggest possible variety of roles throughout the timeline of the Star Wars epos. As the Jedi Anakin Skywalker, he serves the story as the aspiring hero. He is trained to become a universal peacekeeper, a defender of righteousness, protector of the weak and everything that is good. Accompanying his master and teacher Obi-Wan Kenobi on missions, he fights injustice, the separatist army and participates in the galactic war. His peers love Anakin, above all his wife, Padme Amidala. Ironically though, she is also the key to his later transition into Darth Vader.

As Darth Vader, he is and has become the ultimate villain, the personified evil that every single one of his opponents fears, despises and wants to bring down. In fact, the path of destruction and annihilation he carved through his universe might have made him the ultimate antagonist, the manifestation of everything the Galactic Empire stands for. Vader’s symbolic character serves additionally as a motivation for or influence on the main characters in multiple ways. His son Luke is determined to be Vader’s polar opposite and sets out to save his father from what he had become – the prime evil overlord, leading the supremacy that is the Galactic Empire.

Yet both Anakin and Vader are twisted characters, haunted by their actions, their past and personal issues of all sorts. They stick to their convictions, no matter how much trouble it might bring. That ruthless determination to uphold their convictions makes them suitable for the role of the villain and hero at the same time. Within the confinements of Marvel’s Darth Vader though, Vader is clearly a villain.

The acknowledgement that the main protagonist of Darth Vader is a depraved, homicidal villain changes the connotation of the entire experience of reading this comics. The perspective forces us to deal with and identify ourselves with a character we are conditioned not to sympathize with. But all of a sudden, we find ourselves rooting for the villain. By adopting his perspective, we share his view and also his powers, but the reader is also directly confronted with the moral abyss that opens up in when you step into his boots. But why does it matter that we do so? Why is it interesting for us to adopt said perspective and what is the purpose of us sharing the villain’s perspective?

Convention

If you take a closer look at the original trilogy’s character design, you’ll find that, in comparison to most characters that appear in both modern day comics and movies, they seem rather one-dimensional. This is not to say that they are in any way poorly or badly fit for serving their purpose in the context of the story; however, they’re distinctly less, well, distinct. They serve their purpose more as a means for the reader to clearly distinguish good and bad, right and wrong. At the foreground of the story is not the individual development of characters, their lineage or background story, but the greater struggle between good and evil. While navigating the events of the story, the characters seldom ever stray from the path, meaning that at no point during the original trilogy with the exception the ending, does a main character genuinely struggle to stay true to his or her convictions – or even betray them. The characters appear almost dogmatic in the sense that no matter how big the temptation of either evil or redemption is, they almost stoically behave like the embodiment of a cliché. The lack of interesting background information about almost all of the main characters and a lack of character development, specifically personal growth, inner conflict or darker thematic subjects, is something that can be found in comics as well, specifically those from 1950s until the 70s. The flat characters coincide with the writing conventions of the Golden and Silver Age of Comics, a time where superheroes and villains were as clearly distinguished from one another as they are in the original trilogy. Villains were not reasoned with, and the reader rarely was presented with a compelling reason to understand the antagonist’s ideas, actions, ideology or deeds. They served their duty, as a superhero needed an antagonist to fight and overcome. Superheroes themselves were almost entirely flawless and didn’t have internal struggles or demons hidden in their past.

However, just as there are inherent similarities between comic books dated to the time between the Golden and Bronze Age of Comics and the writing of the original Star Wars trilogy, there are similarities on the opposing side between the prequel movies and comics of the Bronze and Modern Age of Comics. While the temporal overlap of the eras of comics and the Star Wars movies is not entirely coherent though, it still seems like a suitable comparison because of the similarities in writing. Genre conventions like those that the 1950s applied to comic books and the 80s applied to Star Wars would’ve never given birth to something like Darth Vader. The series is the embodiment of the development in writing, which began with the Bronze Age of Comics, the increased interest in darker subjects, the development of suitable background stories for both heroes and villains.

While parts of his legacy are unarguably rooted in these conventions, Vader as a character, and more importantly, as the character he is depicted as in this series, is unconventional himself. This is what makes Vader so interesting to look at. He fluctuates between the roles of good and evil while in both roles, as a hero and as a villain. Additionally, he embodies characteristics, notions and emotions of his polar opposite. This shows that he’s a by far more complex character than the original trilogy allowed him to be. Neither is he a lunatic nor a raging psychopath. At all times his intentions are clear and thorough, but throughout the story he is still connected to and affected by his former self. Simply put: There is reason for the madness.

Between Vader and Anakin, neither one is the white knight hero that marvellously overcomes every obstacle and has the deus-ex-machina momentum on his side, nor the absolute, personified and flat out evil that he seems to be. At all times he is wrestling with emotions that are polar in their nature to his present point of view; as Anakin Skywalker he suffers from fear and supressed rage that result in murder, self-doubt and arrogance. As Darth Vader, he is full of regret about the actions that led to his wife’s untimely death. In almost cinematic manner, he has flashbacks of his time as a Jedi and is – even though he manages to hide it and is unable to act on the leftover good inside of him – nostalgic about his former life. He dreads what he’s become and is fully self-aware of the monstrosity that his body has become in the literal sense and what his legacy in a metaphorical sense will be. Vader is inherently human in that he is the product of a struggle, a fall from former ideals and a hero that tried his best and, in the end, failed. The comic book series acknowledges his importance and him as the complex driving force at the centre of the Star Wars universe, and in that lies its immense value. It manages to connect the loose ends between the flat and frankly uninteresting Darth Vader from Episode IV, V and VI and the freshly transformed, severely traumatized and by far more detailed and fleshed out Anakin Skywalker from Episode III. The comics bring what Episode III attempted, and partially succeeded with, to fruition: It offers insight, motive, character development and reasoning to the most diverse and complex character the Star Wars franchise has brought forward until today. The change in perspective and breakup of convention in terms of the choice of the protagonist and the lack of moral commentary give space for a truly interesting and very personal story about failure as much as about growth.

Redemption

The argument of redemption is, in this case, very much based on the narrative of this specific story (Star Wars) and ties in to the conventions of storytelling and writing as well. As the amount of grim content, hardship in the main character’s life and morally ambiguous superheroes increased over approximately the last four decades, it became a big task for writers to come up with reasonable conclusions to their story arcs. An excellent example for such a transformation is the evolution of Batman from a rather ridiculous figure in underpants into the self-loathing and haunted Dark Knight that’s been depicted in more recent times.

However, besides the argument of plausibility in writing and contextualization of a character, there is an emotional component that should not go unnoticed or unacknowledged when it comes to concluding stories like these. Consuming stories, comic books or fiction in general is a thoroughly emotional experience. Therefore, the emotional needs of the reader definitely play a role when it comes to the importance of understanding why comic books like Darth Vader and their specific point of view matter within the landscape of comics and stories. In this specific case, what is offered to the reader is a form of redemption.

Vader doesn’t redeem himself throughout the comic in the literal sense; he doesn’t surrender his arms and suddenly become Anakin Skywalker again. This will not occur until the end of Episode VI as most of us will know. But the comic achieves a different kind of redemption for its main character. The comics show that, despite Vader’s actions and the dreadful crimes he commits, there is a glimpse of humanity in him. The previously mentioned, beautifully staged flashbacks of himself as Anakin Skywalker – often accompanied by his wife or peers – serve as a window into his mind. These flashbacks often occur at key moments throughout the episodes, offering context to his gruesome action. The pain over his loss and his mistakes is made graspable to the reader and even though he doesn’t express remorse verbally or through his actions yet, the connection between action and reason is made obvious. We seek catharsis in the overcoming of the internal and external struggle. In the case of Vader however, it seems that what reader gets that glimpse of humanity in an inhumane entity, which hints that the overcoming of his struggles – and therefore redemption – is within the realm of the achievable, and that is just, very bluntly put, a very touching and satisfying thing to feel.

Conclusion

There are many more compelling arguments in favour of stories that feature the perspective of villains; however, one has to look at what the reader is gaining from the experience.

When a story implies or hints that there is more to a character, especially an intriguing one, fans often wish for extended content, something more to absorb. Darth Vader perfectly satisfies that need for more. More context, more adventures, more insight, more mayhem, more struggle. The series certainly caters to an audience that is already familiar with him, but even to those who are already somewhat educated about the Star Wars canon, it manages to add further facets to the character. It’s a poignant attempt at rendering an initially one-dimensional character into a multi-dimensional, not necessarily likeable, but plausible and at times hurtfully relatable character. The change of perspective offers the reader to be a spectator inside the world of a character that is usually not reasoned with, whose inner most emotions aren’t important parts of the narrative. However, stepping into a villain’s boots can certainly be a thought-provoking experience because there is as much Anakin in Vader as there is Vader in Anakin. One can’t help but wonder whether good and bad are sometimes only a matter of perspective.


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