Something that does not seem common enough are films starring antagonists with motivations that really challenge the viewer. A good example is the villain of JJ Abrams Star Trek Into Darkness.
In the original Star Trek episode, Space Seed, Khan Noonien Singh is a warrior, a brilliant tactician, and a dangerous enemy, but is presented also a man with a sharp mind worthy of respect. His origins were never clearly defined in the series beyond the cultural history of his name, but what was certain was that he was a genetically engineered soldier who rebelled to become a powerful warlord during a period known as the Eugenics Wars.
However for the second installment of JJ Abrams reboot, Star Trek Into Darkness, Roddenberry's character is reimagined as the more violent and more murderous version that sought revenge on Captain Kirk in the film Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. In Into Darkness he is woken from cryosleep earlier than in the original timeline to - under the cover name of John Harrison - design weapons for the Federation, though he does so under duress. His people are being held hostage to ensure his compliance, and when the threat against his people increases, he goes rogue and launches a terrorist campaign against the leaders of Starfleet.
Despite Abram's Khan seeming even more unhinged and more violent than when portrayed by Ricardo Montalban for the second time in Star Trek II, there still exists plenty with which the audience might find sympathy. But this character complexity is largely dispersed and sympathy is tested to its limit with his later actions. It is hard to be sympathetic towards Khan after his violent, visceral and personal murder of his enemy, with his bare hands, along with his willingness to murder the Enterprise crew with little provocation. But the real clincher is the completely unnecessary breaking of Dr Carol Marcus' leg, who posed no threat to him whatsoever.
There is an understandable message contained within that dispersal of sympathy: that, however just the cause, there are lines across which support and sympathy cannot stretch.
But there was also an opportunity missed. Roddenberry's Khan was methodical, intelligent, efficient - there would be no unnecessary brutality. If an engagement could be avoided through painless incapacitation of an opponent, then that strategy would suffice and no excess effort would be expended on brutality. These attributes offer the chance to tackle an even more complex and challenging kind of character: an antagonist who is not a villain, but a kind of anti-hero.
This Khan, the anti-hero, seeking the liberation of his people, would be a character not dissimilar to Jules Verne's Captain Nemo.
They already have much in common. They both appear to have been rulers of princely realms in India; both lost their realms and became exiles; and both now fight guerilla, even terrorist, wars in the name of their cause. Nemo seeks to free people from imperial tyranny (particularly from the British Empire), and this new imagining of Khan seeks to free his own people from the manipulations of Starfleet.
However, Verne's Nemo is treated with much greater sympathy. He is deeply affected by his own murderous actions in the course of war and shows great personal courage in standing up for the oppressed. Yet Nemo is still an anti-hero, his methods never fully acceptable even as his motivations demand sympathy.
In Star Trek the heroes have to stay on a truer path, eschewing violence and rising above it. They have to reject vengeance to save the world. A strong and sympathetic anti-hero offers us a dark mirror for the choices that the heroes make. But it also offers something even more important. It challenges the viewer to imagine their enemy more complexly. It is all too easy to dehumanise an opponent and reduce them to evil automatons to be stopped at all costs. It is much braver to try understand them as human beings. And, when it comes to films, books, or comics, drawing up villains with complex motives tends to be rewarding.
Some of the most respected villains in these mediums possess this greater character complexity. Marvel Comic's Magneto and Doctor Doom both came to power to protect and liberate their people from slaughter and oppression. Tolkien's Saruman fell into evil in desperation for a way to fight against overwhelming odds - falling foul of Nietzsche adage warning those who fight monsters to beware.
There is plenty of room in our films for antagonists that can challenge the way we think. In fact, the most dangerous enemies are often those that share many of the strengths and morals as the hero. But they are set apart by the anti-hero's willingness to sacrifice what the hero will not in order to achieve their goals. This uncompromising nature makes heroes second guess themselves, and consider their own darker natures. And it makes us, the viewers, consider with empathy those who pursue goals contrary to our own.
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