There are three kinds of villains in horror movies, because I'm arbitrary. First, you have your vengeance monsters: Jason, Freddy, Jigsaw, Pumpkinhead, that Grudge lady. Then, there's your evil maniacs who kill just because they can: Michael Myers, Chucky, Leatherface, the Hitcher. The first makes little sense when you think about it. None of the people Jason killed ever did him wrong; he's got some real issues with cause and effect. And Freddy never really deserved much vengeance in the first place, but supposing he did, how is anyone left alive on Elm Street these days anyway? The second group aren't really worth thinking about because they don't really have an interesting motive.
But there's a third category: the weird and wild fantasy land of crazy killers that are out to achieve a real goal of some kind. These are the monsters you can get behind. They're go-getters. They have jobs! You can respect what they're doing because it damn well needs to be done. Or at least it has a point.
5 Existential Thrills
You could argue that a killer like Chucky does what he does for the fun of it, but when it comes to the full experience of death, no movie villain can trump Pinhead. Of course, you need to be clear which Pinhead you're talking about here, because in the sequels Pinhead is just a glorified Michael Myers who jammed Q-tips in his face in lieu of a Shatner mask and raided an S&M fet party for his wardrobe. But the first Pinhead, way back in Hellraiser Part 1, he was something special.
You're our horrifying snowflake.
The name Hellraiser clearly confused a lot of viewers and studio executives, who decided the movie should be about slightly perverted, semi-sexual hate demons. In the first movie, that's not true at all. They're totally perverted, overtly sexual sensation explorers. It's a huge difference. But the key is that they're not demons. They're not from hell. You might think you're in hell if you go to Pinhead's house, but that's just because you don't get where he's coming from, which is a place where you can be tortured so severely that the lines between life and death and pain and pleasure lose all meaning. Which sounds super twisted, but hey, everyone needs a hobby.
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And is this any more humane?
Pinhead and his little friends the Cenobites never meant to just murder people outright or punish them like the silly sequels imply. They want to push the limits of what it means to sense things, to feel all sensations simultaneously, like pooping while watching the saddest movie ever on a roller coaster that ends with you getting a raise while your grandma dies in a field of hot, nekkid ladies. You don't even know what to feel when it's all over, but you definitely felt something. So if you need to be flayed alive and have meat hooks jammed up your ass to get there, well, Pinhead's willing to do that for you.
4 Reproduction And Freedom
John Carpenter's The Thing is awesome in so many ways that if it came to your house and ordered you to make a sandwich, by God you'd do it without question and then let it have the comfy seat on the couch. It's a nearly flawless horror film, due in no small part to the fact that the villain is incredible. What the hell is the Thing? It doesn't even get a name, just general terminology, because it's so hard to wrap your head around. Every piece of it is alive, every piece wants to live, but somehow they can work together as a whole as well, and its only goal is to get free. And if that means eating Wilford Brimley, then so be it.
Though many find his blood to be unbearably sweet.
In the original film, the aforementioned diabeetus spokesman is convinced the Thing could consume the entire world if it escapes, and it very well could, but you have to wonder if it wants that, since it does try to build a spacecraft to leave. And it showed up in a spacecraft as well, so it has intelligence. It's advanced, probably more intelligent than the humans it replicates, even though at no time does it attempt to establish a dialogue or explain what it wants. It doesn't care what the hell the humans think any more than it cares what the dogs think. They're a means to an end.
Imagine you crash on an alien world and you're incapacitated. The locals find you, you wake up, and what happens? You're going to want to get the hell out of there, because if there's one thing we can all be assured of it's that aliens (in this case humans) want to probe asses. Even the Thing knew that. And since its physiology is so fluid, it could literally turn into nothing but asses and be probed until time ends. Who would want that? Actually ... well, no, that would get tiring.
"What? This is what asses look like on my planet."
So the Thing hatches a plan to escape, and that plan includes subterfuge. Hide in plain sight. Turn into one of the bad guys. This is the oldest trick in the book. Even Indiana Jones killed the odd Nazi to put on the uniform. The Thing could have been his world's Indiana Jones, and Kurt Goddamn Russell kept fucking up his plan to bring back some really cool Earth swag to his peoples' museums. Thanks, asshole.