20 Movies Where the Main Character Turns Into the Villain

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Ignacio Weil

Entertainment - August 18th 2025, 19:00 GMT+2

Cropped joker 2019 — Joker (2019)

Let’s be honest: rooting for a freak in clown makeup to spark mayhem is the kind of twisted empathy few filmmakers dare to coax out of you. But *Joker* makes it hard not to care when you trace Arthur Fleck’s transformation from ignored sad clown to anarchic icon – complete with that now‑infamous laugh. It’s the kind of descent into villainy that feels eerily plausible in a world where nobody sees you until you break. This isn’t comic relief; it’s a psychological carnival of despair and rage that unfolds like a slow‑burn social commentary you can’t look away from. Todd Phillips flips the script on the usual “hero’s journey,” showing just how empathy can be weaponized when pushed too far. Every grimy alley and fever dream dance step in the film pushes you further into complicity, until you're cheering at the chaos you’d never admit to yourself. | © Warner Bros. Pictures

Cropped burning 2018 — Burning (2018)

You start with a meek, wide‑eyed guy who’s basically the poster child for “nice guy syndrome” in a dusty café setting – then you realize you’ve signed up for a simmering socio‑psychological thriller about obsession, envy, and murder. *Burning* is like Murakami’s prose in slow‑motion, tinted orange by the glow of a burning barn and drenched in ambiguity. Lee Chang‑dong traps you in a love triangle where the most dangerous turns out to be the idle rich guy with a hobby of…setting things ablaze. It’s not about whodunit, but about whether the “nice guy” you thought you empathized with could secretly be the one burning everything down. With minimalist dialogue and massive emotional weight, the film forces you to question every gesture, every word, and your own loyalty to the main character. | © Pinehouse Film

Cropped upgrade 2018 — Upgrade (2018)

Imagine if *The Six Million Dollar Man* was handed to a man who eventually loses the “six million dollar” part of his humanity – and upgrades into a vengeance‑powered puppet of tech. That’s *Upgrade* in a nutshell, a smart and snarky sci‑fi horror that starts as a fun revenge flick before morphing into a dark meditation on losing control. Leigh Whannell’s direction turns every punch and hack into a philosophical contest between human will and cold logic. You’ll be cheering for the underdog at first, right up until you wonder if the chip in his brain has overwritten his soul. It’s low‑budget gold – gloriously gory, wildly inventive, and more than a little existential about technology’s lure. By the end, you’ll be asking: who’s really pulling the strings, man or machine? | © Blumhouse Productions

Cropped the witch 2015 — The Witch (2015)

This isn’t your campy vampire flick – it’s a tight, lantern-lit descent into religious paranoia, puritanical dread, and ancestral evil that feels straight out of a witch hunter’s fever dream. *The Witch* whispers terror through candlelight, an austere folk‑horror debut that’s as much about oppressive faith as it is about supernatural horror. Anya Taylor‑Joy’s transformation from sheltered daughter to forest emissary is mesmerizing – like slowly watching innocence burn in the shape of laughter. Robert Eggers doesn’t just direct; he resurrects the past with period‑accurate dialect and a devotion to unsettling authenticity. You’ll shiver not because of jump scares, but because silence and suspicion weigh more. By the end, you may even catch yourself raising a glass – or a pitchfork – to the freedom that darkness can offer. | © A24

Cropped Chronicle 2011 — Chronicle (2011)

You think you're about to watch three bros in bedroom cams get superpowers, and then – BAM – they become the most twisted superhero story you never expected, filmed like a home video gone horribly wrong. *Chronicle* lures you in with teenage pranks and shaky cams, then drops you into a gravitational pull of jealousy, power, and telekinetic tyranny. It’s part coming-of-age, part cautionary tale about what happens when nobody’s there to tell superpowered kids "no." Director Josh Trank flips the genre, showing how unchecked younger impulses can spiral into outright recklessness – and eventually, full-on villainy. You start by rooting for the trio, but by the finale, one of them becomes the kind of super villain you’d regret inviting to the prom. It’s low-fi, high-consequence storytelling you can’t shake. | © 20th Century Studios

Cropped confessions 2010 — Confessions (2010)

What begins as a somber classroom lecture soon reveals itself as one of the most cold-blooded revenge tales ever committed to film. *Confessions* takes the seemingly safe space of a school and turns it into a psychological battlefield, with a teacher calmly detailing her plan to punish the students responsible for her daughter’s death. There’s no frantic chase, no shouting – just an unnerving sense that she’s always three moves ahead. Tetsuya Nakashima frames every scene with a painter’s eye, using muted palettes and haunting music to make the confession feel like a spell you can’t break. As the truth unravels, you realize the protagonist’s vengeance isn’t a momentary lapse; it’s a meticulously plotted transformation into the story’s true monster. It’s the kind of film that leaves you chilled not by gore, but by the sheer precision of its malice. | © Toho

Cropped i saw the devil 2010 — I Saw the Devil (2010)

Revenge is supposed to bring closure, but here it just cracks open something darker. In *I Saw the Devil*, a secret agent hunts the serial killer who murdered his fiancée, only to turn the pursuit into a sadistic cat-and-mouse game. At first, it’s justice served – brutal, yes, but understandable. Then, little by little, the hunter’s methods grow as twisted as the killer’s own crimes. Director Kim Jee-woon pushes you to question whether the protagonist is still the hero or just another devil wearing a different face. The film’s unflinching violence isn’t there to shock for shock’s sake – it’s a mirror for the soul’s slow corrosion. By the time the credits roll, you’ll be wondering which of the two men truly deserves the title of monster. | © Showbox

Cropped there will be blood 2007 — There Will Be Blood (2007)

Oil might be the black gold of the early 20th century, but for Daniel Plainview, it’s more like liquid ambition – and poison. Starting as a determined prospector, he claws his way up with charm and grit, selling himself as a family man and honest businessman. But *There Will Be Blood* strips away the facade, revealing a man who will sacrifice relationships, morals, and sanity for control. Paul Thomas Anderson crafts an operatic rise-and-fall story, with Daniel Day-Lewis delivering a performance so intense it practically seeps through the screen. By the end, Plainview isn’t just rich – he’s isolated, paranoid, and willing to destroy anyone in his path. It’s a descent so complete, you forget the man he used to be. | © Paramount Vantage

Cropped the prestige 2006 — The Prestige (2006)

Magicians live for the perfect trick, but in *The Prestige*, that obsession curdles into something far darker. What begins as a friendly rivalry between two stage illusionists spirals into a destructive feud, where each man’s success can only come at the other’s ruin. Christopher Nolan layers the narrative with twists, deceptions, and moral compromises until you realize both men have crossed the line into villainy. It’s a story about ambition that devours empathy, where each revelation makes you reassess who you’re rooting for – and why. Beneath the smoke and mirrors, there’s a grim truth: the ultimate trick is convincing yourself you’re still the hero. | © Touchstone Pictures

Cropped dead mans shoes 2004 — Dead Man’s Shoes (2004)

On the surface, it’s a gritty revenge drama about a soldier returning to his hometown to confront the thugs who tormented his brother. But *Dead Man’s Shoes* slowly shifts that perspective, peeling back layers until the avenger’s own sins come to light. Shane Meadows mixes raw performances with an unflinching look at the cost of vengeance – not just to the victims, but to the one wielding the knife. By the time the story’s full truth emerges, the line between justice and cruelty has blurred beyond recognition. It’s the kind of film that lingers, forcing you to sit with the uncomfortable idea that even righteous anger can rot from the inside. | © Warp Films

Cropped secret window 2004 — Secret Window (2004)

What could be more innocent than a quiet cabin retreat for a writer in search of peace? In *Secret Window*, that stillness quickly curdles into paranoia, accusations of plagiarism, and the unsettling suspicion that our protagonist might not be as blameless as he seems. Johnny Depp’s Mort Rainey starts off as a man wronged, but each scene pulls the rug a little further out from under us. Director David Koepp balances psychological tension with eerie rural isolation, making every creak of the floorboards feel like a warning. By the end, the truth hits harder than the shovel Mort wields – turning the story into a chilling exploration of fractured identity and buried guilt. It’s a descent into villainy dressed up as a writer’s block story, and it works frighteningly well. | © Columbia Pictures

Cropped oldboy 2003 — Oldboy (2003)

Imagine losing fifteen years of your life in a private prison, then being released with no explanation and a burning need for revenge. *Oldboy* turns that setup into a twisting, gut-punch of a story where vengeance is both the driving force and the trap. Choi Min-sik’s Oh Dae-su begins as a man desperate for answers, but his quest leads him down a path darker than he could have imagined. Park Chan-wook layers the film with stylized brutality, shocking reveals, and the kind of moral ambiguity that leaves you unsure who to pity. By the time the central twist arrives, Dae-su’s transformation is complete – his humanity traded for the bitter satisfaction of survival. It’s as unforgettable as it is devastating. | © Show East

Cropped fight club 1999 — Fight Club (1999)

It starts as an underground club where bored men punch each other to feel alive, but *Fight Club* doesn’t stay a harmless outlet for long. Edward Norton’s nameless narrator gets drawn deeper into Tyler Durden’s philosophy, a slick mix of anti-consumerist rhetoric and barely restrained chaos. What begins as self-help through self-destruction mutates into domestic terrorism, with our “hero” both complicit and, in a twist, entirely responsible. David Fincher’s sharp direction and sardonic tone turn this descent into an adrenaline-laced cautionary tale about identity and extremism. The biggest shock isn’t the reveal – it’s realizing just how far the narrator has drifted from the man he was. | © 20th Century Fox

Cropped the talented mr ripley 1999 — The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)

Charm, sophistication, and a gift for mimicry – Tom Ripley has everything, except the wealth and status he craves. In *The Talented Mr. Ripley*, his initial role as a harmless impostor quickly escalates to something far more sinister. Matt Damon delivers a layered performance, shifting seamlessly from shy awkwardness to cold-blooded calculation. As Ripley’s lies spiral, so do his crimes, each one a desperate attempt to maintain the illusion of the life he’s stolen. Anthony Minghella wraps the story in beautiful Mediterranean scenery, making the moral decay at its center all the more jarring. By the end, Ripley isn’t just pretending anymore – he’s fully inhabiting the villain he’s become. | © Paramount Pictures

Cropped a simple plan 1998 — A Simple Plan (1998)

It’s just a bag of cash in the snow – what harm could come from keeping it? *A Simple Plan* answers that question with a steady, gut-wrenching unraveling of trust, morality, and sanity. Bill Paxton’s Hank starts as a sensible man who knows right from wrong, but greed and fear make the lines blur fast. Sam Raimi trades his horror roots for a slow-burn thriller where each choice tightens the noose around the characters’ necks. The plan, of course, is anything but simple, and every “solution” only digs a deeper hole. By the final act, Hank’s transformation is complete, and the cost of keeping the money is far higher than he ever imagined. | © Paramount Pictures

Cropped the usual suspects 1995 — The Usual Suspects (1995)

It’s the kind of crime thriller where the less you know going in, the better – but even knowing the twist doesn’t diminish the fun. *The Usual Suspects* unspools its tangled web through the eyes of Verbal Kint, a meek, unreliable narrator spinning tales about a crew of criminals and the mythical Keyser Söze. As the police listen, so do we, hanging on every detail, unsure what’s truth and what’s smoke. Bryan Singer keeps the pace taut, letting the mystery deepen until the now-iconic ending snaps everything into focus. The beauty of the story is that you think you’re watching a survivor’s account – until you realize you’ve been watching a masterclass in deception. By the time the truth lands, the “victim” you’ve been following stands revealed as the story’s true villain. | © PolyGram Filmed Entertainment

Cropped falling down 1993 — Falling Down (1993)

At first, it’s just a bad day in Los Angeles – traffic jams, heat, and a string of frustrating encounters. But *Falling Down* turns this mundane misery into a study of one man’s breakdown, following Michael Douglas’s William Foster as he abandons social norms for escalating outbursts. What begins as petty rebellion soon curdles into violence, each step justified in his mind as standing up against a corrupt, uncaring world. Joel Schumacher blurs the line between protagonist and antagonist, daring you to sympathize with a man clearly on the edge. By the final confrontation, it’s clear that Foster’s self-image as the wronged party is as much a fabrication as his moral high ground. It’s unsettling because it’s believable – how easily frustration can tip into villainy. | © Warner Bros. Pictures

Cropped The Fly 1986 — The Fly (1986)

Science fiction meets body horror in this tragic tale of ambition gone horribly wrong. In *The Fly*, Jeff Goldblum’s Seth Brundle is a brilliant but eccentric scientist whose teleportation experiment takes a gruesome turn when a housefly sneaks into the pod. At first, his newfound strength and vitality seem like a breakthrough, but soon his body – and mind – begin to change in terrifying ways. David Cronenberg doesn’t just revel in the grotesque; he builds a slow, inevitable collapse of humanity under the weight of mutation. The more insect Brundle becomes, the less human compassion he retains, until only the monstrous remains. It’s a villain origin story wrapped in the skin of a love story, and it’s unforgettable. | © 20th Century Fox

Cropped the shining 1980 — The Shining (1980)

Cabin fever is one thing – cabin fever with supernatural encouragement is another. *The Shining* watches Jack Torrance’s transformation from struggling writer and family man into an unhinged, axe-wielding menace. The Overlook Hotel isn’t just a setting; it’s a pressure cooker, sealing in Jack’s frustrations and paranoia until they boil over. Stanley Kubrick’s meticulous direction turns every hallway and whispered voice into a threat, making the descent feel inevitable. The horror here isn’t just in the ghosts, but in the very human capacity for violence when isolation and obsession take hold. By the time Jack is chasing his family through the snow, the man he was, is long gone. | © Warner Bros. Pictures

Carrie msn — Carrie (1976)

Bullied at school, controlled at home, Carrie White is the picture of meek vulnerability – until her telekinetic powers awaken. In *Carrie*, Brian De Palma takes Stephen King’s debut novel and delivers a slow-burn build toward one of horror’s most iconic climaxes. At first, you’re rooting for her to find a shred of happiness, maybe even romance. But humiliation at the prom pushes her over the edge, turning a victim into a force of destruction. The transformation is as tragic as it is terrifying, a reminder that cruelty can forge monsters out of the gentle. By the time the gym doors slam shut, Carrie’s reign as the villain is brief but unforgettable. | © United Artists

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Some of the most unforgettable films don’t just pit heroes against villains – they show us how a character we’re rooting for can slowly, and sometimes shockingly, become the very thing they once opposed. Whether it’s a gradual descent into moral corruption, an unexpected twist, or a tragic fall from grace, these transformations leave a lasting impact on audiences.

In this roundup, we’ll explore 20 movies where the protagonist crosses the line from hero to villain. Spanning psychological thrillers, crime dramas, supernatural horrors, and intense character studies, each of these films offers a fascinating – and often chilling – look at how even the most sympathetic characters can turn dark.