A Necessary Evil: Playing the Villain

 I just finished watching The Six Triple Eight, Tyler Perry's 2024 film about the Army battalion of women of color during WWII.  (I wanted to see this in theatres, but apparently I don't live in an area where they think people will want to see this movie. Like...what? ANYWAY, Thanks, Netflix.)

I have to admit -- I've always had an affinity for wartime movies that tell the story of people and the sacrifices they make in order to defend right and freedom. My favorite movies include The Pianist, The Imitation Game, and Hidden Figures. Now that I'm a military mom, these stories carry even more significance. As a peace-seeker who wishes that war would be our true last resort, I have always been inspired films that tell the stories of people driven by love of their country paired with a desire to make the world a better place. 

I will NOT give away too much of the plot of The Six Triple Eight, because I firmly believe you need to watch this movie yourself, but here's what you need to know:

* The 6888 was an Army battalion, called the Negro Women's Army Corps in the 1940s. These women were highly trained, and held to an exceptional standard. As their major (played by the incomparable Kerry Washington) declares: "Because you are Negro women in the Army, you do not have the luxury to be as good as the White soldiers. You have the burden to be better. You are representing the Negroes of America."  (And you don't even ask anymore -- you know I take notes when I watch movies in order to provide direct quotes!)

* These highly trained women are never given actual orders because the powers that be don't believe in their abilities. Because of an intersection of interests at a higher level, the 6888 are finally given actual orders . . . to sort and deliver the mail that has not been sent/delivered to/from soldiers and their families. They are expected to sort/deliver 17 million pieces of mail in 6 months. 

[OK, I can't help myself -- these badass women complete this impossible task in less than 90 days.]

Like I said before, there is so much for you to experience in this movie for yourself, like the absolute perfection of Kerry Washington (my Scandal fans have no problem accepting this statement) and even an awesome cameo by Oprah, the queen herself. Honestly -- just watch the friggin' movie already.

Despite there being so much eligible content in this film, here's what I want to write about, after this lengthy preamble: the necessary burden of the villain. 

This is decidedly NOT one of those posts that is like, "Hey, that was a great story about people of color, but let's talk about the White experience." But let's be honest -- White actors in modern-day films about the past have a tough job. 

Hear me out.

Let me start with a short story. I was asked to audition for a community theatre production of The Prom last spring. There had been some shifts in the cast (read: people quit when they didn't get the leads, and people who said they wanted a role decided they over-committed themselves.), and my friend who was directing the show reached out to see if I could consider auditioning for a role. What was the role, pray tell? Oh, just the homophobic PTA mom who shuts down the high school prom so a girl doesn't bring her girlfriend. 

Absolutely nothing about this role felt good to me. I have come a long way from my homophobic, evangelical upbringing that told me that gay people were "choosing" an evil lifestyle and "choosing" to go to hell. I can elaborate much more later, but let's just say I was the advisor of the Gender-Sexuality-Alliance Club at the school I taught in before becoming a principal. There was absolutely NOTHING about Mrs. Greene that made me say, "OMG! Dream Role!!!" 

But. 

I knew that in order for the important story of The Prom to be told, someone needed to play the villain. Someone needed to say lines to her gay daughter like, "You don't know what you are saying! You are confused!" and "Whatever you are feeling right now, it's because of those [other, gay] people! They are putting ideas into your head," suggesting that the way her daughter is feeling is not authentic. I had some significant, intense, yet not voluminous lines. Yet -- I have to be honest -- this was one of the hardest roles I've played. I had to convincingly portray a homophobic mom, protecting the establishment while in total denial that her own daughter is struggling to find her marginalized identity and has no one to talk to. 

Show nights, I had people literally muttering -- and sometimes shouting -- out comments to my character.  "Oh my god! How disgusting!" I heard one night. Nearly every night, when my daughter stood up to me in a pivotal moment and said, "I don't want to be part of your shit anymore!" -- her lines were met with applause. 

On one level, this feedback for my character meant I did my job as an actor. The audience shouldn't like me. After all, I was the villain. On another level, it felt pretty icky as a human being. Nothing I was saying as Mrs. Greene was what I would say in real life. 

Same for this dude, I hope --

This dude being Dean Norris. I've seen him play a similarly icky character in several movies before, and I've had the same thought before: Thank goodness someone is willing to play the villain, but yikes. It has to be hard. 

Norris is stereotypically racist as a higher-ranking official who doesn't want to see the six triple-eight succeed. Again -- not giving anything away, but it shouldn't surprise anyone that these women of color faced opposition from those who were worried about the patriarchal establishment being threatened by women who pushed the level of excellence higher than desired. 

These roles are so important, yet so hard to play. I remember wanting to avoid curtain call because I wasn't sure my character deserved applause. Yet, of course, the applause wasn't for the character, but for the actor. I am assuming that even people like Dean Norris have to separate, to compartmentalize the role they are asked to play from the importance of the story that needs to be told. 

It's a necessary evil, to play the villain. To embrace the challenge of authentically representing antiquated beliefs. To represent that which had to be brought down in order for right and justice and peace to prevail. I, for one, am thankful for the actors who choose to portray the villains, especially when the villains' values are in such opposition to their own beliefs.