The anti-hero is an enduringly popular protagonist, and isn’t going anywhere. This is the guy or gal that is tainted in some way, deeply flawed, or sometimes downright evil to an extent, but just not as bad as the antagonist(s). People love to watch and root for this person because the anti-hero is more relatable and understandable than some squeaky-clean, wholesome to a fault, no weaknesses of character, no vices, no guilty pleasures, model citizen that can do no wrong. This doesn’t feel like a real person, just an ideal archetype in place to serve the plot. This person, along with his/ her accompanying story, gets boring real quick. The former is also much more engaging in that it leaves a lot of room for an intriguing character arc in which our anti-hero can swing a little closer to some sort of goodness. For these reasons, it’s generally accepted that even if your hero is an overall honorable individual, he or she should be introduced with one or more significant built-in flaws.

I’m as much a sucker for a good anti-hero as anyone, and more than most. And I’ve seen this special story beat a few times that really illuminates the anti-hero in an ultra-compelling way. This is where, out of pure coincidence, the anti-hero (or flawed hero) is presented with, and seizes upon, the opportunity to dish out a sliver of pure, righteous morality, and behave like a decent (or better) human being, if only for a fleeting moment.

There is a scene in Leon The Professional, when Leon is on a routine contract killing, and happens to run into Malky, one of the the corrupt squad of DEA agents who murdered his new friend Matilda’s family. Now, Leon’s not there for Malky. His targets are the men that Malky’s dealing with. In fact, Leon has already made it quite clear to little Matilda, who was pleading with him to exact vengeance on her behalf, that he has no intentions of hunting these men down. But… Malky’s right there, so why not? Malky tries to bargain for his life and tell Leon he’s a cop, there undercover. Leon looks him in the eye and recites his mantra, “no women, no kids,” and then blows Malky’s brains out.

In True Detective, Season 1, Episode 4, after a rocky start to the case, police detectives Hart and Cohle have finally honed in on a suspect for the bizarre ritualistic murder they’re investigating. That suspect is Reggie, the former cell mate of the victim, Dori’s, incarcerated ex-husband, Charlie. While they were doing time together, Charlie had shown Reggie some racy pictures of his ex that were intended for his eyes only. Reggie got out, found her, and murdered her. After informing Charlie of all this, and interrogating him for the second time, the detectives are satisfied and on their way out, Charlie stops them with the question, “You think ’cause I talked to him about Dori, that I might’ve got her killed?” Detective Cohle, an antisocial borderline-nihilist who’s been pontificating about the meaninglessness of all existence since his introduction, replies, “It probably had something to do with it. I don’t think you should’ve showed him those pictures. You?” And, with that, they exit.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something awfully delicious about these moments in film and TV. These characters, each of whom decidedly exists on a moral plane quite divergent from anything that most of us would find recognizable, suddenly let a beam of universally-relatable humanity shine through. An ice cold assassin imposes retribution for acts of cruelty against an innocent child, and an uninterested cop rebukes the haphazard violation of an innocent woman’s privacy and trust.

Most importantly, these moments don’t mark any significant change in the character.  These are not “turning points” where our protagonist decides to take the plunge and become a healthy, happy, well-adjusted member of society. These moments quickly pass, and our anti-hero goes about his/ her business, undaunted. (Though it undoubtedly serves as a hint of changes to come.) Perhaps the greatest feature of these beats is their subtlety and seeming insignificance to this person who, after all, isn’t supposed to care anyway. If they were executed with any more zeal or fervor, they would surely lose their effect and cross over into the realm of cheesy and overwrought.

These little gems are rare, but they comprise some of my favorite moments in some of my favorite works. Whenever I believe they can be seamlessly incorporated, expect to see them in my work as well.

What do you think? Let me know below!