The Darkling is a polarizing character. Many hate him, many love him. Why is that? What are the Shadow and Bone creators trying to say about him?
If you’ve been following the world of young adult fiction for the past few years, you may have noticed an increase in the presence of what could only be described as “alluring villains.” Gone are the simpler times when the bad guys were mean and wretched; in many stories these days, the villains are often more appealing than the heroes: impossibly beautiful, and often with a heartbreaking backstory that makes them relatable. Their cruelty is sometimes so glorified — whether by the story itself or by the fandom — that the process is also working in reverse, and authors have started modeling their heroes after these types of villains, as well.
At this point, it can be pretty easy for fans to root for the villains in these stories, amid this pastiche of conventionally positive and negative traits, and I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. Still, fans toss around the words “morally gray” a lot as a kind of pass card to justify anything any character does, no matter how atrocious.
Today, I want to talk about a character who isn’t morally gray (even though I know many fans identify him as such) but a full-fledged antagonist: the Darkling from Shadow and Bone, better known as General Kirigan (Ben Barnes) in the recent Netflix adaptation of Leigh Bardugo’s books.
The Darkling: Antagonist or… Saint?
Bardugo, the author of the Grishaverse novels as well as executive producer of the show, walks a very fine line. She doesn’t objectively romanticize the Darkling, but lead character Alina Starkov, against her will and better judgement, does, to an extent. With the books being told entirely in first person narration by Alina, it can be hard to differentiate her opinion of the Darkling from the author’s, but there’s no need to; however Alina may feel about the Darkling, the story speaks for itself. The Darkling is written with the clear intention of being an irredeemable character. Readers can interpret his actions however they want, but Bardugo makes her point in the novels and has spoken clearly about it on numerous occasions.
When I read the Shadow and Bone books, and then again when I watched the show, it was immediately clear to me that the Darkling wasn’t a good guy, and I didn’t think anyone could consume the story and come out thinking he was simply misunderstood. I am honestly still not sure how he has such a big following of dedicated fans, but everyone is entitled to their own feelings, especially when it comes to fictional characters.
But he does have a lot of fans. In fact, Bardugo sampled some of the arguments Darkling apologists have made for years and used them in the King of Scars duology, where a sect called the Faithful build a cult of the Darkling and want him named a Saint, justifying his crimes with religious zeal.
The dichotomy of the Darkling
Given this history, the people making the Netflix show knew they had to tread very lightly when it came to the Darkling. They tackled this matter on two fronts: on the one hand, Ben Barnes did an outstanding job playing the character of General Kirigan, and he inevitably humanized him with his portrayal. On the other, the show let us see things that Alina (played by Jessie Mei Li) can’t, giving us a somewhat bigger picture. The show does a few things to make Kirigan appeal to the audience, while also sending various, subtler hints that we shouldn’t trust him.
Before we get into what those are, let’s state the obvious: we say don’t judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard to believe this character would be this popular if he wasn’t described as handsome or played by such a charming actor. In an alternative universe where showrunner Eric Heisserer decided to undertake a social experiment and chose an 85-year-old man who wasn’t conventionally attractive to play General Kirigan (who is actually much older than that), I would not be writing this article right now.
What’s in a name?
The first way that the show tries to humanize the Darkling is by giving him a proper name from the get-go (as well as a flashback into his villain origin story later). In the books, he is only referred to by his title, the Darkling. It’s not until the last book in the trilogy, Ruin and Rising, that he tells Alina (and the readers) his given name: Aleksander Morozova, a confession that makes the scene feel intimate and holy.
Even with that knowledge, Alina pretty much refuses to refer to him as Aleksander even in the privacy of her own mind. In the show, Kirigan (which is a fake last name he made up) asks Alina to address him as Aleksander during an early conversation, on a random horse ride date around the palace grounds. Alina gradually embraces the name. By having something to call him that’s not a title, the show lets Alina and the audience see the Darkling as an available human, not just a remote being and the most powerful and terrifying Grisha alive.
When the Darkling kisses Alina for the first time in the novel, it’s completely unexpected. The circumstances seem random, and Alina genuinely had not even thought about things going in that direction because he was an unreachable immortal, rather than “please call me Aleksander.” In the show, they have a different sort of relationship; it’s more consensual, with Alina being fully in control of her own sexuality. Here, she reaches out to him, and I can’t say I dislike the choice. He looks less like a centuries-old predator seducing a young girl for his gain and more a mindful man who makes sure to ask for spoken consent before taking things further. Is this romanticization or just evolution? I’m not quite sure, but it certainly isn’t a trait you usually associate with a genocidal villain.
Is darkness inherently bad?
On the other hand, the show tries to warn us time and time again that we, the audience, should not trust General Kirigan. The series literally begins with a voiceover from Alina giving us all the hints we need: “When I was young, I was afraid of the dark. When I got older, I learned that darkness is a place, and it’s full of monsters.” She goes on to call the Fold her “true enemy.” Not the war, not the corrupt governments, but the Fold, the darkness that humans have no control over. What at the beginning seems like an inanimate force with the power over life and death is later revealed to be the manifestation and tangible proof of Kirigan’s original sin.
There are lots of other subtle looks and comments that suggest Aleksander is up to something nefarious, but the audience isn’t meant to perceive them immediately. We internalize them so that, looking back, we could see that they were there all along. When Baghra reveals to Alina that Aleksander is a power-hungry megalomaniac trying to enslave her, it’s not hard for us to believe her, despite Alina and Kirigan sharing a heated make-out session earlier in the episode. These two have a straightforward yin-yang dichotomy on the surface level: she is light and he darkness, therefore it’s easy to accept the conventional storytelling that if she is good, he must be evil, and we don’t need more convincing than that.
(Although, how cool would it have been if their powers had been reversed instead? Would we have had a harder time believing a guy gifted with light could be a beacon of evil?)
“Fine. Make me your romantic hero.”
I would like to point out the Darkling is a villain by his own admission. In what is probably the most quoted (and most meta-textual) line in the series, he concedes: “Fine. Make me your villain.” Up until that point in the story, he had tried and almost succeeded in seducing Alina to his cause. He had posed as the good guy, aloof and unreachable, sharing a mixture of secrets and lies to gain her trust. He had made sure to confess to feeling alone, misunderstood, cast aside, all things he knows Alina feels, to manipulate her and bring them closer. So when Alina realizes what his intentions were all along and confronts him about it in Episode 7 “The Unsea”, General Kirigan speaks these words.
To be fair to everyone involved in the production of this story, I believe the Darkling romanticizes himself. Even as Alina accuses him of making her a slave and repeatedly putting lives on the line to achieve his goal, he spins a story that casts him as a martyr, a servant to his country and his people, and on top of that, everything he’s done was “for us.” He offers Alina the (un)romantic prospect of ruling Ravka side by side, as equals in theory but with him as master in practice. The Darkling knows how to speak to people and what to say to manipulate and mobilize them. It’s the old “you and I are going to change the world” lie that book fans know he’s told many people over the centuries — we learned in King of Scars that he used the exact same line on Zoya Nazyalensky too, another woman who loved him and turns on him as soon as his mask of selflessness slips.
The Darkling does believe, like most villains, that he’s doing the right thing. He truly wants to protect the Grisha and to make Ravka safe, but only if that outcome can be achieved with him coming out on top (see: the tragedy of Genya Safin). What he craves is limitless power for himself, not the greater good of the people. He is self-aware, but only to a certain point. In the aforementioned “make me your villain” scene, he doesn’t tell Alina he is in the wrong. He realizes that she will never see him as a hero again and he can’t win her to his side now that his real intentions are clear. His grandiose speeches didn’t work, so he gives them up and directly dares Alina to make him her villain, as if that will somehow validate his choices and absolve him of blame and responsibility for his own actions, as if Alina needs to believe him evil in order to choose to be good. Opposites may attract, but Alina’s goodness doesn’t come from or in response to him.
The confrontation in Episode 7 is necessary for us to see the true extent of General Kirigan’s denial and the enormity of his crimes; as well as Alina’s growth, quiet determination, sure retorts, and daring defiance even in captivity. It’s an emotional rollercoaster that had us hanging from Jessie Mei Li’s lips, and we are able to fully focus on her phenomenal acting as well as that of Barnes. Nothing is really happening, plot-wise; The scene is just there for the audience to rethink and unlearn their feelings for General Kirigan, just as Alina makes it clear she has no interest in joining him. After all, he doesn’t need her consensual cooperation; he was always going to use her for his scheme, whether she agreed or not.
The Darkling might be alluring and handsome beyond reason and Alina might have conflicting feelings, but she is always aware of his past actions and his megalomaniac plans. Even in the books, whenever she feels her resolve falter when he’s near and her body almost gives in to temptations she’s not willing to name, she lets her mind dictate her choices.
Later on in the books, there’s a similar exchange where the Darkling accuses Alina of self-righteousness for assuming the worst of him. Basically, he’s blaming her for not romanticizing him, making himself a martyr of her morality, as if all his unspeakable atrocities don’t exist. But Alina is sick of his victim complex. Her short answer is one of the most poignant lines in the series:
“I didn’t invent your crimes.”
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