THERE was a heart-wrenching moment at the end of last season’s final episode of the ABC series “Lost” when a character named Michael tries to find his kidnapped son. Michael lives for his child; like the rest of the characters in “Lost,” the two of them are trapped on a tropical island after surviving a plane crash. When word of Michael’s desperate mission reaches Sawyer – a booze-hoarding, hard-shelled narcissist who in his past killed an innocent man – his reaction is not what you would call sympathetic. “It’s every man for hisself,” Sawyer snarls.
Not so long ago Sawyer’s callousness would have made him a villain, but on “Lost,” he is sympathetic, a man whose penchant for dispensing Darwinian truths over kindnesses drives not only the action but the show’s underlying theme, that in the social chaos of the modern world, the only sensible reflex is self-interest.
Perhaps not coincidentally Sawyer is also the character on the show with whom young men most identify, according to research conducted by the upstart male-oriented network Spike TV, which interviewed thousands of young men to determine what that coveted and elusive demographic likes most in its television shows.
Spike found that men responded not only to brave and extremely competent leads but to a menagerie of characters with strikingly antisocial tendencies: Dr. Gregory House, a Vicodin-popping physician on Fox’s “House”; Michael Scofield on “Prison Break,”who is out to help his brother escape from jail; and Vic Mackey, played by Michael Chiklis on “The Shield,” a tough-guy cop who won’t hesitate to beat a suspect senseless. Tony Soprano is their patron saint, and like Tony, within the confines of their shows, they are all “good guys.”
The code of such characters, said Brent Hoff, 36, a fan of “Lost,” is: “Life is hard. Men gotta do what men gotta do, and if some people have to die in the process, so be it.”
“We can relate to them,” said Mr. Hoff, a writer from San Francisco. “If you watch Sawyer on ‘Lost,’ who is fundamentally good even if he does bad things, there’s less to feel guilty about in yourself.”
Gary A. Randall, a producer who helped create “Melrose Place,” is developing a show called “Paradise Salvage,” about two friends who discover a treasure map, for Spike TV. He said the proliferation of antisocial protagonists came from a concerted effort by networks to channel the frustrations of modern men.
“It’s about comprehending from an entertainment point of view that men are living a very complex conundrum today,” he said. “We’re supposed to be sensitive and evolved and yet still in touch with our Neanderthal, animalistic, macho side.” Watching a deeply flawed male character who nevertheless prevails, Mr. Randall argued, makes men feel better about their own flaws and internal conflicts.
“You think, ‘It’s O.K. to go to a strip club and have a couple of beers with your buddies and still go home to your wife and baby and live with yourself,’ ” he said.
The most popular male leads of today stand in stark contrast to the unambiguously moral protagonists of the past, good guys like Magnum, Matlock or Barnaby Jones. They are also not simply flawed in the classic sense: men who have the occasional affair or who tip the bottle a little too much. Instead they are unapologetic about killing, stealing, hoarding and beating their way to achieve personal goals that often conflict with the greed, apathy and of course the bureaucracies of the modern world.
“These kinds of characters are so satisfying to male viewers because culture has told them to be powerful and effective and to get things done, and at the same time they’re living, operating and working in places that are constantly defying that,” said Robert Thompson, the director of the Center for the Study of Popular Televisionat Syracuse University.
Consequently, whereas the Lone Ranger battled stagecoach robbers and bankers foreclosing on a widow’s farm, the enemy of the contemporary male TV hero, Dr. Thompson said, is “the legal, cultural and social infrastructure of the nation itself.”
Because of competition from the Web, video games and seemingly countless new cable channels, television producers are obsessed with developing shows that can capture the attention of young male viewers.
To that end Spike TV, which is owned by Viacom and aims at men from 18 to 49, has ordered up a slate of new dramas based on characters whose minds are cauldrons of moral ambiguity. They will join antiheroes on other networks like Vic Mackey, Gregory House, Jack Bauer of “24″ and Tommy Gavin, the firefighter played by Denis Leary on “Rescue Me” who sanctions a revenge murder of the driver who ran over and killed his son.
Paul Scheer, a 29-year-old actor from Los Angeles and an avid viewer of “Lost,” said that not even committing murder alienates an audience. “You don’t have to be defined by one act,” he said.
“Three people on that island have killed people in cold blood, and they’re quote-unquote good people who you’re rooting for every week,” Mr. Scheer said. The implication for the viewer, he added, is, “You can say ‘I’m messed up and I left my wife, but I’m still a good guy.’ “
Peter Liguori, the creator of the FX shows “The Shield” and “Over There” and now the president of Fox Entertainment, said that most strong male protagonists on television appeal to male viewers on an aspirational level. Those aspirations, though, he said, have changed over time.
In the age of “Dragnet,” “everything was about aspiring to perfection,” Mr. Liguori said. “Today I think we thoroughly recognize our flaws and are honest about them. True heroism is in overcoming those flaws.”
Part of the shift to such complex and deeply flawed characters surely has to do with the economics of television itself. Cable channels, with their targeted niche audiences, are no longer obliged to aim for Middle America, and can instead create dramas for edgier audiences.
The financial success of networks like FX and HBO has also opened the door for auteurism that has embroidered scripts with dramatic complexities once reserved for film and literature, where odious protagonists – think of Tom Ripley, the murderous narcissist protagonist in Patricia Highsmith’s “The Talented Mr. Ripley” – have long been common.
Still the morally struggling protagonist has been evolving over time, Mr. Ligouri said, pointing to Detective Andy Sipowicz on “NYPD Blue.”Sipowicz was an alcoholic who occasionally fell off the wagon, and he often flouted police procedure in the name of tracking down criminals. Like all good protagonists, Sipowicz was also exceedingly good at his job.
Mr. Liguori took the notion of the flawed protagonist to new levels in the creation of Vic Mackey on “The Shield.” At the end of the pilot for that show, Mr. Liguori said, Mackey turned to a fellow cop he knew to be crooked and shot him in the face.
“There was a great debate at FX about how the audience would react,” he said. “I thought 50 percent would say that’s the most horrible thing, and 50 percent would say he was a rat.” Mr. Chiklis, who plays Vic Mackey, won an Emmy for his performance in that episode, which was the highest rated at the time in the history of the network.
“The ability to let the audience make that judgment was my ‘aha’ moment,” Mr. Liguori said. “I think that moral ambiguity is highly involving for an audience. Audiences I believe relate to characters they share the same flaws with.”
Mr. Liguori added that in a world where people are increasingly transparent about their own flaws – detailing them on blogs, reality TV, on talk shows and in the news media – scripted TV drama had to emphasize characters’ weaknesses.
“The I.M.-ing and social Web sites, they’re all being built on being as open and honest as possible,” he said. “You cannot go from that environment to a TV show where everyone is perfect.”
With the success of shows featuring deeply flawed leads, the challenge for networks is to rein in the impulse to create ever more pathological characters. Pancho Mansfield, the head of original programming for Spike TV, said he could see network television going the route of “Scarface.”
“With all the competition that’s out there and all the channels, people are pushing the extremes to distinguish themselves,” Mr. Mansfield said. But for now, he argued, the complexity of characters on serialized TV shows is a kind of antidote to the increasingly superficial characters in Hollywood films, which he said, have come more to resemble the simplistic television dramas of yore.
Dr. Thompson agreed. “On one level you could see the proliferation of these types of characters as an indication of the decline of American civilization,” he said. “A more likely interpretation may be that they represent an improvement in the sophistication and complexity of television.” If you accept that view, he added, “Then the young male demographic has pretty good taste.”
