Why Unlikable Protagonists are a Necessary Evil - a Study of Hard Truths and Mike Leigh
Nobody understands the unlikable protagonist on a filmic level quite like Mike Leigh. Throughout his expansive career, he has constructed engaging worlds converging on twisted individuals who are ripped straight from the pages of our own. He is a director who acutely captures the necessity for a truly unlikeable protagonist in a way that feels naturalistic and multifaceted in a wholly unique manner. In no film is this more prevalent or important than his 2024 drama Hard Truths.
A long awaited return to original storytelling, Leigh’s latest effort brings previous collaborator Marianne Jean-Baptiste back to the forefront of the screen as Pansy, an agoraphobic housewife with a multitude of detestable mannerisms. The film follows Pansy and her relationships with those around her: sister Chantelle (Michele Austin), husband Curtley (David Webber), son Moses (Tuwaine Barrett), and others in her day-to-day life. The film is stylistically simple in this manner, it provides snippets of Pansy’s monotonous routine, blending in shopping trips or family visits with her in a catatonic bedridden state, whilst expanding the wider world by presenting Curtley’s work life, or Moses’ social life - or lack thereof. Leigh is able to capture the audience’s investment easily by immersing them in this grounded world utilising a slice of life approach. A big aspect of this is the lack of noticeable cinematography, settling for a static perspective; the audience are made to feel like a fly on the wall as these rigid and believable interactions occur. Ultimately, many components unite to create an accurate portrayal of the world that we live in, although it is arguably Jean-Baptiste’s turn as Pansy that truly captures what makes the film special, particularly her loathsome attitude.
Marianne Jean-Baptiste in Hard Truths (2024)
Throughout Pansy’s time on-screen, she gets into an array of altercations with a wide range of different people - be it over a parking space, at the dentist or ranting about pockets on babies’ clothes - she finds a way to badmouth anything and everything, without any consideration for those around her. This antagonistic approach to life firmly plants her within a pantheon of unlikeable protagonists - people who we are forced to watch upset and belittle others, rather than being the redeeming hero that we, as audience goers, are more familiarly acclimated to. However, this is not a bad thing in the slightest. By presenting Pansy as this force of reckoning, Jean-Baptiste and Leigh are able to create a character that you become truly invested in, assisted greatly by the atypical approach as the audience clamber to understand Pansy and why she is the way that she is.
Early in the film, the audience is made aware that there is more to the lead than meets the eye. Leigh never directly spells out what is bubbling underneath the surface, although there is plenty of information available to infer. Learning how Pansy’s familial relationships impact her life or her understanding of self-image are crucial to comprehending the character in a way that adds depth to the performance that many actors would struggle to pull off. Leigh’s tight script tells only what it needs to and allows the viewer to read between the lines and comprehend how somebody could find themselves in the protagonist’s boots. Towards the end of the film, following the slow deconstruction of Pansy and Curtley’s marriage, the latter injures himself at work and relies on Pansy to help - except she doesn’t know what to do. Whilst her husband sits downstairs in agony, Pansy is frozen at the prospect of actually being needed by someone for something important. She stands in her room tightly hugging a duvet as the film ends. There is no sense of a redemption arc, because there is no need for it. The film’s ending captures the essence of the story perfectly and highlights how much depth an unlikeable character such as Pansy adds to films and its identity. Over the course of the film, Pansy never becomes more likeable, instead shifting into a more subdued role and the audience come to understand how she sees the world and why her viewpoint is just as valid as anybody else’s. This dimension is at the heart of Leigh’s work, and is a concept built deep within his catalogue, strongly advocating for the necessity of these dislikable leads - used by Leigh to explore the different ideas present in the world that we live in, and especially how even the most obtuse individuals have their own lives too.
David Thewlis in Naked (1993)
Another of Leigh’s films, 1993’s Naked presents this idea comfortably. Johnny (David Thewlis) is one of the most horrible protagonists put to screen. Time after time he commits unlawful acts, aggresses others, and worst of all, is extremely smarmy to anybody he interacts with. One of Johnny’s leading traits is the drive to bring others down, as he recites theology to them unprompted in a bid to feel like the smartest person in the room. He is a truly despicable character. However, Leigh’s understanding of this drives the film.
Whilst we always dislike Johnny, it is impossible to take our eyes off of him as he gets involved with his antics throughout the film’s duration. There is a sick sense of enjoyment watching him bring everybody else down, mostly in part to Thewlis’ fantastic performance and the tidy script, which work together to capture the essence of the unlikable protagonist second to none. Similarly, Leigh’s 1992 short film A Sense Of History, written by and starring Jim Broadbent, expresses this idea with a confined runtime and powerful monologue. What starts as a grounds tour of the 23rd Earl of Leete’s estate quickly divulges into the confessions of a psychopath as he recounts the lengths of which he has gone to in the name of self-preservation. The Earl begins as an unsavoury character but grows into a monster, yet throughout his monologue, the audience cannot help but enjoy watching him occupy their screen. Matt Olsen details that ‘The Earl is impossible to absolutely define in any sort of strict terms such as good or bad., succinctly capturing the heart of Broadbent and Leigh’s collaborative approach to represent shades on what should be a black and white character. It is Leigh’s work here, alongside Hard Truths and Naked, where he is really able to understand what makes the unlikeable protagonist tick and become such a necessary evil in the world of film. They are infectious in the most dangerous way: primarily that they are endlessly entertaining to watch and represent lesser seen attributes put to screen.
There are many factors as to why the unlikeable protagonist is needed in film, be it the added depth through their unique viewpoints or a natural resource for conflict - and by association: interest - they are a breed of individuals who are severely underutilised in today’s cinematic landscape. Their integration into film is long standing although they crop up noticeably less as Hollywood strengthens its stranglehold on the industry and opts for blank-slate protagonists who the audience can believe that they relate with. This is why auteurs such as Leigh are so pivotal in creating a unique diversion from the social norms, less obligated by fiscal gain and driven to tell stories which they understand need telling. Pansy’s characterisation is a perfect example of somebody who never becomes more friendly or welcoming, instead the audience are forced to change in order to understand and empathise with her dark world view, allowing for a better sense of discussion following the film, as well as an appreciation for the reflection regarding the real world ideas represented. This level of interaction between audience and director becomes more rare with each passing year, emphasising the importance of the unlikeable protagonist whenever they seldom do make an appearance.
Through Mike Leigh’s understanding of film and his seemingly innate ability to capture his writing visually, he is able to craft the perfect blueprint of the unlikeable protagonist far apart from anybody else. By introducing an instantly detestable being and doubling down, he invites audience participation to understand their ideologies, rather than redeeming them and providing the receipts. These characters, whilst horrible by nature, are a crucial aspect of film and media literacy as a whole - they need to exist for people to understand the depths of storytelling and the diverse collection of ideas available as opposed to showing the class a perfect human for the umpteenth time. They may not always be enjoyable to watch, but they are by far the most important, and we can only hope that many more come.
Written by Freddie Smith
Freddie, 22, is a Film & Television Production graduate with a lifelong passion for watching absolutely anything thrown his way without a second thought. His commitment to film is second only to his drive to write and share his (often) wrong ideas. You can find him on Instagram: @frodosmith02 or Letterboxd: @FrodoMcBaggins.
Recipe
