I write a lot of romance.

The romance market calls for a very specific type of character for the male lead who will become the female lead’s love interest.

This male character is physically strong and healthy—usually muscular with broad shoulders and washboard abs. He’s determined, commanding, authoritative, dominant, ambitious, decisive, and he has clear boundaries for everything, especially with the woman in his life.

He’s a direct communicator and doesn’t beat around the bush when making it clear what he wants and how he plans to get it.

The hero in any romantic love story is also protective, caring, and selfless. He has strong connections to family even if he’s been hurt or abandoned in the past. He likes children and wants to have children of his own with the right woman.

This is the kind of man that all woman want and all men want to be. He’s the kind of man we all want to rely on because he’s dependable, honorable, and keeps his word. He’s hard-working and understands what’s important in life.

He’s a leader that people who aren’t as decisive and certain as he is are happy to follow. He shows the way and usually winds up leading others to a good outcome.

It doesn’t even matter if he’s all that good-looking. I’ve created characters like this who were hideously deformed and penniless. They still come off as heroic because they possess all these other qualities.

I did this with both Hangman from Rise of the Giants, whose face is covered in scars, and with Carter Holt from Firehouse Blues: Fallen Hero, whose face and body were hideously burned in a fire.

When we see a man acting like this, we automatically think of him as a good man. When he sacrifices himself for others, we see him as a hero.

We subconsciously equate the opposite of these qualities with evil.

An evil man is conniving, manipulative, selfish, has no integrity, and is usually too internally weak to conduct his affairs and relationships with any kind of honor and forthright determination.

We see this played out in all the great villains of history such as Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Pol Pot, and others. They were insane, paranoid, insecure, and manipulative on a mass scale.

None of them was what we would call a warm, caring, cuddly family man. They had perverse ideas about how to conduct their personal relationships and they thought nothing of sacrificing others for their own gain.

The truth is that we could say all the same things about what makes a woman either an evil or a heroic figure. All the same qualities apply to women.

Heroic women are physically strong, mentally tough, determined, forthright, honest, and confident, but they’re also selfless, caring, and protective. They’re dedicated to family and they’ll do anything to take care of those they love.

We as human beings are subconsciously programmed to see someone as cold, toxic, and evil if they are strong, determined, and confident but they’re also selfish, hurtful, distant, and manipulative.

We could point to exactly the same behaviors as good or evil regardless of what gender the person is.

We hear a lot these days that suppressing emotions stunts men’s mental health and makes them toxic. We hear a lot about how society programs boys and men to believe that expressing emotion is less than masculine.

The reality is that men express emotion all the time. Ninety-nine and a half percent of the time, men express emotion appropriately.

Pointing at male expressions of emotion and saying they should do it differently is what twists and poisons a man’s mental health.

If a man says in a very calm, neutral tone, “It really made me mad when you flirted with that guy at the restaurant right in front of me,” that’s a perfectly appropriate expression of emotion.

The fact that he said it in a calm, rational, direct, composed tone doesn’t make it any less valid as an expression of emotion. It’s no less valid because he isn’t crying, yelling, or jumping up and down.

We would consider it just as toxic if the woman to whom he made this statement completely ignored, belittled, or dismissed his concerns because he wasn’t crying, yelling, or jumping up and down.

We would consider both the statement and the dismissal in exactly the same terms of appropriateness and toxicity if we reversed the genders of the people involved.

If a woman said this to a man with whom she was involved in an intimate relationship, we would consider it just as unacceptable if he completely dismissed or belittled her concerns because she didn’t say it emotively enough.

My number one rule for writing all kinds of fiction is: fall in love with the male lead.

In order to do this, I have to express the male lead’s emotions appropriately. That includes expressions of struggling to contain strong emotions and struggling to continue to function in spite of overwhelming circumstances that cause strong emotions.

This kind of portrayal of both men and women is what allows the reader to fully identify with the characters.

Men feel emotions at exactly the same strength that women feel them. Men struggle to cope with strong emotions exactly the same way women do.

Both men and women struggle between the desire to ask for help and the desire to appear strong enough not to need to ask for help.

None of these things are unique to either men or women.

A man expressing emotion doesn’t make him weak nor does portraying a male character as grappling with strong emotions detract from his ability to be a hero.

Exactly the same can be said for women and female characters.

How we depict these characters expressing emotion and how we depict them coping with their circumstances is what determines if the character will come across as heroic.

Two people can wind up in exactly the same situation and respond to it in opposite ways.

One person could run away from the problem and leave others to suffer as a result of the person’s inaction.

We will all automatically see this person as weak and selfish—and we’ll be correct in that judgement.

Another person faced with exactly the same challenge could choose to engage with the problem, risk it all, and end up sacrificing themselves to benefit others.

The second person is the one who will be seen as a hero.

​All content on the Crimes Against Fiction blog are © 2024 by Theo Mann.
You are free to distribute and repost this work on condition that you credit the original author.

I recently became aware that quite a few of my latest posts focused on calling out the lamentable state of the modern fiction industry.

So I thought I’d swing the pendulum the other way by highlighting examples of what I consider some of the best modern fiction doing it right.

In this week’s post, we turn our attention to the movie Shotcaller (2017) directed by Roman Waugh. This movie was a powerhouse of all the necessary elements of masterful storytelling all wrapped up in one package.

I find it interesting to compare this movie to Breaking Bad. The two works cover most of the same themes of how one man can spiral into criminality and become a murderous monster everyone hates.

Both the film and the TV show were brilliantly acted and shot. Both examined the intensity of the criminal mindset and how a man can become the absolute worst that society has to offer.

I find it instructive to distinguish where Breaking Bad went wrong and how Shotcaller hit all the marks Breaking Bad tried to hit and missed.

Warning: Spoiler Alert!!
I will be including spoilers for both Shotcaller and Breaking Bad, so if you haven’t seen one of them, you might want to do that first.

The story of Shotcaller follows the descent of a mild-mannered family man into criminality and brutal violence. The events eventually lead him to become the Heisenberg of the Aryan Brotherhood within the California prison system.

The main character, Jacob Harlon, is living his normal life with his wife and young son when he gets convicted to a two-year prison sentence for DUI.

He survives the violence of the prison world by asserting himself and responding in kind. He does what he has to do to survive, including joining the Aryan Brotherhood at the bottom of the hierarchy, killing people, participating in riots, and transporting drugs among other things.

His activities lead him deeper and deeper into this world until he can’t get out of it.

The process completely ruins his relationship with his wife and son.

By the time Harlon gets released from prison, his son is in high school and understandably resentful about his father’s life choices.

Their relationship becomes estranged, and when Harlon gets released, he divorces his wife and completely pushes both her and their son out of his life for good.

He can’t escape the Brotherhood’s presence even on the outside. When he balks at following some of the Brotherhood’s orders and they threaten his family, he makes a terrible choice between finding a way out or spending the rest of his life in prison.

All of this leads him to his final Heisenberg moment when he confronts the Aryan Brotherhood’s main leader, kills him, and takes the man’s place as shotcaller for the entire organization.

He does this to ensure the continuing safety of his family on the outside. In the ending, he is confined to his cell twenty-three hours out of every day. He spends his one hour outdoors locked in a cage where he can’t get near any other prisoners.

He spends the rest of the time reading in his cell.

In the final scene, he receives a letter from his son telling Harlon that his son forgives him.

This moment brings about a resolution to the entire storyline—a resolution we don’t get from Breaking Bad.

Harlon earns this forgiveness—not by being a murderous psycho, but by making the ultimate sacrifice for his family. Everything he does is to this end.

Walter White doesn’t do anything for selfless reasons. Walter White really is a murderous psycho. He never balks at destroying the lives of those around him simply because it serves his interest to do so.

He blackmails Jesse Pinkman into starting their drug operation in the first place. Walter allows Jane to overdose, poisons a child, and then sells Jesse to his enemies out of sheer spite.

The ending of Breaking Bad doesn’t redeem Walter White because he doesn’t free Jesse for selfless reasons.

Walter only frees Jesse because Walter knows he’s already dying and has nothing to lose. Freeing Jesse costs Walter nothing. He wouldn’t do it at all if it did.

This is the distinction that makes Jacob Harlon a true anti-hero.

A murderous, sadistic psychopath doesn’t become an anti-hero simply by being the main point-of-view character in the storyline.

A true anti-hero is someone who does everything wrong in the eyes of society and still comes off as heroic.

Jacob Harlon is a hero because he does everything wrong in the eyes of society, yet he does it for all the right reasons. He isn’t a murderous psychopath. He’s a caring, protective, selfless family man even when he’s killing people in the most brutal possible way.

This is what makes him worthy of his son’s forgiveness at the end.

This ending brings about a powerful resolution to the setup of everything else that happens. Unlike Breaking Bad, this film isn’t about all the gang violence, brutality, and intrigue. It’s about human relationships—Harlon’s relationships with his family.

In the final scene, we see that he still keeps the same photographs of his wife and son on the wall of his cell. He still considers himself a husband, father, and protector even after he’s already lost everything, including them.

This resolution is only possible because the film sets up these relationships and payoffs throughout the film.

As I mentioned in my post on George R.R. Martin, these setups and payoffs aren’t possible if you don’t plan the ending in advance.

The writers of Breaking Bad just wanted to keep the show going for as long as possible. They would have kept it going indefinitely if they could have gotten away with it. It wasn’t possible for them to set up a satisfying ending because they had no idea when or how the ending would happen.

This is why the ending came off as somewhat contrived. It doesn’t do anything to redeem Walter, either in the eyes of the audience and especially not in Jesse’s eyes. He knows Walter too well to be fooled by Walter’s supposedly selfless act.

The ending of Shotcaller brings about a much more satisfying resolution. It’s the culmination of all the setups throughout the entire film right up to the first scenes.

It follows the main character’s development arc, which Breaking Bad doesn’t do. Walter White doesn’t develop. He basically dies the same narcissistic asshole at the end that he was at the beginning.

And before everyone starts jumping up and down screaming about what a hero Walter was, go back and rewatch the scene where Walter blackmails Jesse into going into business with him.

Walter White was a high school science teacher. Jesse was his former student.

A truly selfless family man who cared about anyone but himself would never have led Jesse into a life of drugs, crime, and destruction.

A truly selfless family man would have done just about anything to save one of his students from that life. Walter wouldn’t have forced Jesse into it against his will.

No amount of money would have been worth a young man’s life. A good person would have too much integrity to go that far.

This scene shows how sociopathic, self-centered, and vindictive Walter was right from the beginning. He would do anything and throw anyone under the bus to get his way. That never changed throughout the whole show and he died exactly the same way.

His criminal activities simply gave him a playground to let his psychotic tendencies run as wild as he wanted to let them run.

He constantly dodged the consequences of his actions. He constantly manipulated those around him. He continuously chose the routes and actions that would cause those around him the most pain and devastation possible.

In his own words, he did this because he could get away with it and because he enjoyed it. He never did anything selflessly. Eventually, he got to the point where he could be certain he wouldn’t lose anything himself. Only then did he consider doing something for someone else.

There is nothing admirable about Walter White. Some might call Breaking Bad a cautionary tale about avoiding criminal behavior in the first place.

Shotcaller is vastly more effective at communicating this message. The film shows how the smallest misstep, even an accidental one, can lead to life-destroying consequences.

It also shows how a truly good person doesn’t change into a bad person just because you throw them into an environment where they’re surrounded by bad people.

A good person remains a good person. A person dedicated to doing the right thing will continue to do the right thing no matter what.

Jacob Harlon never broke bad. He did a lot of incredibly heinous shit. He became a monster like all the monsters around him.

And yet he’s a hero. Everything he did was admirable and done for the right reasons.

He earned the ultimate reward for his sacrifice and he deserved that reward. He deserved every ounce of peace his son’s forgiveness gave him in the end.

Shotcaller is a beautiful film despite its graphic violence and brutal themes. It’s beautiful because it portrays the purity of a human heart and the lengths one man will go to keep showing his love for his family against all odds.

Sometimes I look at TV shows like Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones and I think, “Why? What’s the point?”

These shows offer nothing to the conversation about what makes life worth living or what makes human life mean something.

Yes, these shows were well shot, well acted, well scripted, and well produced.

Is that all they are? Is there any real reason we should subject ourselves to the violence, bloodshed, and the wholesale destruction of human life?

Is their only value in being a bunch of fluffy, mindless entertainment?

Is this really what we find entertaining—watching a man act as sadistically cruel, destructive, and hurtful as possible for no reason whatsoever?

This is nothing but body horror. It’s equivalent to rubbernecking by the side of the road and watching ambulances pull mangled bodies out of the wreckage of destroyed cars while we leer and hope to catch a glimpse the carnage.

This is coliseum-style bloodsport entertainment. Its only purpose is to satisfy our bloodlust.

It allows us to watch women getting raped, children being burned at the stake, men being torn apart by dogs, and pregnant women getting their bellies slashed open in ways we don’t get to see in real life.

This kind of so-called entertainment cheapens all of us, makes us stupider, teaches us nothing, elevates nothing, and ultimately accomplishes nothing.

It doesn’t enlighten us or make us better. It turns us into bloodthirsty animals who get a sick thrill out of watching other people suffer.

Nothing in these shows was beautiful or added anything to making the people or the world or society better. These shows didn’t even try to ask or answer any questions about what the stories might mean because they don’t mean anything.

This is the ultimate purpose of all art—to offer something of value to its audience beyond just some kind of stimulation for us to look at.

Art can teach us something. It can improve our lives by giving us insight into our own experience. It can make the world a better place by making us see things from another perspective.

Art is an ongoing conversation about the human experience. Art opens a dialogue that allows us to explore, learn, and understand our lives and those around us in ways we wouldn’t be able to understand them otherwise.

If a work of art isn’t doing that or at least trying, it’s basically useless. It’s so much noise in a sea of other noise taking up the airwaves. In some cases when done wrong, it can actually make our lives worse by blocking us from understanding or relating to anyone or anything.

Every minute of Shotcaller was pure gold. Every minute of the film meant something.

The final message sealed the deal by bringing all the violence, bloodshed, and the wholesale destruction of human life back around to making it actually mean something.

The film subordinated all the violence and bloodshed to the highest virtues of love, family, and self-sacrifice for something greater than the individual.

That’s what I call a masterpiece.