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10 Movie Heroes Who Aren’t Exactly Good People

The Guardians of the Galaxy are criminals [*manages to resist joke opportunity about the movie being criminally good]. Peter Quill is a thief and a self-confessed outlaw; Gamora is an assassin; Drax is on a campaign of continual violence and murder; Rocket Raccoon is a mercenary and an arsonist; even Groot has three counts of grievous bodily harm (although I think we all know whose fault that probably was). Whoever and whatever the Guardians become in the end – and however much their situations are not their own faults - there is no getting away from the fact that they come from pretty dubious backgrounds, and in a couple of the cases seem to have quite frankly enjoyed a lot of it. But really, do we actually want to imagine them being any other way?

Léon – Léon: The Professional

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Luc Besson’s 1994 French thriller Léon; The Professional became an instant classic for many reasons – the stylish directing, the intensity of the storyline, the flawless acting from all involved (Jean Reno in the titular role, Natalie Portman in her startling debut, Gary Oldman as the murderously deranged cop, houseplant as Houseplant), all served to make this one of those rare films that becomes more experience than movie.

But the central reason for Léon’s impact was the feature that was the most unusual: The relationship between a reclusive assassin and an orphaned 12 year old girl.

On paper, the characters of Léon and Mathilda are worlds apart. Abused and neglected but disarmingly spirited, Natalie Portman’s Mathilda is difficult to look away from and impossible not to love. Léon is dour, grim and distant – a man whose idea of a close relationship with a human being is stabbing someone rather than shooting them. His reluctance to open the door to Mathilda after the massacre of her family, knowing full well that she will die if he leaves her in the corridor, shows the audience exactly what Léon’s attitude is: He ends lives, he does not share them.

But open the door he does, and suddenly the audience are shown everything else (at least, everything that his houseplant has not already told us. Seriously – Oscars have been won for less significant roles). Léon may try his hardest to regret taking Mathilda in, but it is too late – his ability to love will from now on never be in question.

As their relationship develops, so too does Léon’s humanity. When Mathilda tries to convince him to train her in his line of work he resists. Whenever their relationship borders on the inappropriate – something that is masterfully handled both by Besson and Portman – he resists (panics, actually). And by the time he does tell her he loves her, whatever that love might be simply doesn’t matter; heard between these two lost and broken souls amidst the shocking violence of the finalé, it is possibly one of the most heartfelt and believable declarations of love ever seen in the genre. As he eventually comes to make the ultimate sacrifice to rescue Mathilda from this corrupt and dangerous world, it is clear that all he has ever known has paled into insignificance compared to the place that Mathilda has in his life – and he in hers.

Léon never surrenders his occupation, but it is his devotion to keeping things alive that finally comes to define his character; from the moment he opens that door, he is Mathilda’s knight in shining armour – who just happens to prefer Roope sunglasses and a trench coat.