TMS Discussion: The Bad Boy Effect

(RKO Radio Pictures)

“Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?” This isn’t just a line asked by Gwen Stefani in the 2000 No Doubt song ‘Bathwater,’ but one of the oldest cliches in history. And why is that? From what I’ve seen in fiction and other pop culture, the bad boy trope can be a mixed bag. Once you get a certain age the good looking asshole schtick gets old after a while and the initial appeal actually starts to feel a bit immature. Not to mention, how many of these bad boys are interested in commitment? Most girls [and maybe gay guys], grow out of this phase around their mid-20s, give or take. It’s the thrill of the forbidden fruit, which of course, is the most alluring from afar. The guy you spend a lost, crazy weekend with rather than happily ever after. Amusingly, I didn’t go through my own brief bad boy kick until college, preferring funny and/or geeky guys like teen idols Anthony Michael Hall and Topher Grace in middle school and later comedian-filmmaker Woody Allen in high school [yeah, I know]. I was crushing on AMH’s Brian Johnson in John Hughes’ The Breakfast Club (1985) and didn’t get the big deal with Judd Nelson’s John Bender until my late teens. By the time I was 18, I was revolving my life around classic rock, which naturally included a whirlpool of infamous bad boys, and my real instigation into the type.

Technically, my first bad boy fascination was old Hollywood star Robert Mitchum, particularly in J. Lee Thompson’s classic thriller Cape Fear (1962). But I’m not going to include intentional villains who just happen to be played by handsome actors in this article, because that’s a whole different trope I have my own issues with. The bad boy characteristic is more like the morally gray anti-hero a lot of the time. Bob Mitchum was perfect for the film noirs he started his career with, like Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past (1947), because male noir leads are traditional heroes, but with dubious ethics and strategies.

(Gloria Stavers)

When most people see the term ‘bad boy,’ they think of characters like David Boreanaz’s Angel and James Marsters’ Spike on Joss Whedon’s popular horror TV series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (1997-2003) and “Angel” (1999-2004), who are scary vampires with [somewhat] hearts of gold. Or guys like Bender or Luke Perry’s Dylan McKay on Fox’s “Beverly Hills, 90210” (1990-2000), from the wrong side of the tracks and maybe a little dangerous; yet still sexy and cool. But as real-life bad boys like Mickey Rourke and Christian Slater, or the guys in Guns ‘n’ Roses and Motley Crue, have proven, maybe it’s best to stick to fictional kind. Because the very real arrests for drug possession and/or violent behavior, as well as unfaithfulness are definitely not as much of a turn-on. Everyone swoons over Robert Plant and Jim Morrison rocking out on stage, but no one’s fantasizing about the non-stop touring on the road or hardcore partying that ends at the hospital [hence Jim’s death in 1971].

In fiction, characters can be however we want them to be, since they’re human-made and the author can make them as redeemable and charming as needed. Jeff Conaway’s Kenickie in Randal Kleiser’s movie adaptation of Grease (1978) has become almost as popular with female fans as John Travolta’s Danny Zuko over the years; and I think it’s mostly from how cool and attractive Jeff looks as Kenickie than actually wishing they were Stockard Channing’s Rizzo. This might be heresy to some film buffs, but I actually think Matt Dillon improved on the retro, proto bad boy in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Outsiders (1983) and FFC’s Rumble Fish (1983) originated by Marlon Brando and James Dean in the 1950s with László Benedek’s The Wild One (1953) and Nicholas Ray’s Rebel Without a Cause (1955).

Whether it’s a motorcycle, an electric guitar, a leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses or all of the above; sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy the effortlessly smooth.