Best Movie Villains Of The '80s

What's a hero without a villain? Not much. Filmmakers in the '80s knew this better than most, and they made sure to fill the decade with some of the most loathsome, dishonest, cruel, insane, terrifying, and delightfully evil baddies to ever grace the silver screen. The best of these worst are unforgettable crooks, schemers, and killers who push the hero to the edge, forcing them to evolve past their flaws to win the day. And in typical '80s movie fashion, the creeps on this list shun subtlety in favor of over-the-top, in-your-face villainy.

So which movie bad guys from one of cinematic history's most outrageous decades are the most fun to hate? We've assembled them here. These are the best '80s movie villains of all time. (We should note that to qualify, the character had to have been introduced in a film that was released between 1980 and 1989, even if they appeared after that period. Sorry, Darth Vader and Michael Myers).

Warning — spoilers ahead!

Beautiful as it may be, there are two reasons Antarctica is only inhabited by researchers: It's cold, and it's isolated. Now imagine that on top of that, the place is a hunting ground for a parasitic space alien that mimics the appearance and mannerisms of whatever life forms it devours, so that its next victim won't know they're trapped in the room with it until it's too late.

Yeah, we're taking about the Thing from "The Thing." How did you guess? This unholy creation, brought nauseatingly and brilliantly to life by director John Carpenter and his team of twisted B-movie geniuses, ranks among the most hideous concepts in horror movie history. Obviously, that's why it works. But it's not just about the Thing's appearance. It's the mind games it plays on its victims, without even trying. It's ability to shapeshift and thus assume the image of its victims makes it uniquely difficult to beat, and of course, Antarctica provides few avenues of escape. The only options left are madness and death. Probably both. Definitely both.

Ferris Bueller's day off isn't the only unrealistic part of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." Sure, Ferris, his friend Cameron, and girlfriend Sloane get into impossible hijinks while playing hooky from school. Among other things, they take Cameron's dad's car on a dangerous joyride, hijack a parade and lead the crowd in an infectiously spirited rendition of the Beatles' "Twist and Shout," and miraculously avoid getting caught by Ferris' parents, despite nearly running into them throughout Chicago on multiple occasions. So yeah, all a bit improbable, although a total blast. But Ferris isn't the only character bending reasonable expectations.

Enter Ed Rooney, school dean and the film's antagonist, who neglects work and makes it his life's mission to catch Ferris faking an illness. He leaves school, sneaks into the Buellers' home when only Ferris' sister is home, and tries to find the evidence he needs to ... give Ferris detention? Suspend him, maybe? Either way, it's far too much effort, especially since there are hundreds of other snot-nosed brats he needs to be looking after. And yet, he persists despite being knocked out, attacked by dogs, and repeatedly falling down. In the end, defeated and with his dignity and suit in tatters, he gets on a school bus and is further humiliated by more students.

However, this is all part of the fun of "Ferris Bueller." Actor Jeffrey Jones makes a comedic meal out of each pratfall and is delightful to watch. Chicka-chickah, indeed.

Based on Stephen King's terrifying novel, Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" is a haunting, hallucinatory experience. Many creepy things await the Torrance family in the abandoned Overlook Hotel, where patriarch Jack plans to write a novel. For example, there's the man in the dog mask, the elevator filled with blood, the woman in the bath, and the girls at the end of the hall. You know the ones. "Come play with us, Danny!"

But the spirit really haunting the place is Jack himself. Played fearsomely by Jack Nicholson, Torrance is driven mad and ends the movie chasing his wife and son around the hotel with an axe. We suppose being snowed in on a far-off mountainside and getting tormented by ghosts can do that to people. But Jack started the film as a man on the edge and descended into the pit from there. So we're assuming there was already something for the demons of the Overlook Hotel — or whatever else was haunting the place — to work with once they got their claws on him.

This is all part of what makes "The Shining" work, by the way. The layers of mystery. The ambiguity. How much of Jack's insanity was him? How much was the hotel? We'll never know. But that won't stop us from rewatching the film again to see if we can figure it out.

Some actors are simply born to play a certain character. When it came time to cast the Joker in Tim Burton's "Batman," the candidates were Jack Nicholson and everyone else.

Just look at the guy. That mile-wide grin. That devilish cackle. Those eyebrows. Plus, Nicholson had already proven he could do crazy in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "The Shining." He was a shoe-in. The producers did what they had to do to get him on board — even though he made them work for it — and the rest is history.

Say what you will about the movie's deviation from the source material (yes, we know the Joker didn't kill Bruce Wayne's parents in the comics, and he wasn't previously named Jack Napier), but ultimately, Nicholson was everything we hoped he'd be as the Clown Prince of Crime: silly, dangerous, unpredictable, and scary. As is now a Batman movie tradition, he stole every scene he was in, even though Michael Keaton was throwing a hundred miles an hour as his sworn enemy, Bruce Wayne, right next to him.

Later versions of the character — most notably Mark Hamill's voiceover work in "The Animated Series" and "Arkham" video games and Heath Ledger's interpretation in "The Dark Knight" — have earned just as much acclaim. But Nicholson's gangster Joker remains a performance for the ages. And "have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" will never not be one of film history's most iconic quotes.

In 1978, "Halloween" gave us Michael Meyers, a terrifying, nigh-unstoppable killer who was more force of nature than man. Then the "Friday the 13th" movies produced Jason Voorhees, a riff on that blueprint. But by the time those properties started churning out sequels, audiences were wise to the act. A killer picks off prey one by one and repeatedly cheats death. It's a formula so simple that it couldn't help but get stale just a few years in. But 1984's horror epic "A Nightmare on Elm Street" injected the genre with fresh ideas that director Wes Craven's contemporaries undoubtedly kicked themselves for not thinking of first. 

In this movie, children in Springwood, Ohio, are getting murdered by Freddy Krueger, the spirit of a mutilated killer with bladed gloves, who stalks his prey in their dreams. The character doesn't only work because of his unforgettable appearance or even because actor Robert Englund infused him with more attitude than all other slasher baddies combined. He works because he operates by a well-established set of rules (he's invincible in the dream world but vulnerable if he can be pulled into this one) — which is a too-often overlooked must for horror movies -– and also because he forces his victims to forgo sleep to avoid him. That's a terrifying prospect in and of itself.

Not even a movie this inventive could avoid increasingly ludicrous and uninspired sequels. But the original, and the character himself, will never stop haunting our nightmares.

Christmas movie or not, we can all agree that 1988's "Die Hard" is one of the finest action thrillers to ever grace theaters. It's got explosive shootouts, sharp writing, grounded stakes, funny and quotable one-liners, and an iconic hero in Bruce Willis' John McClane — the quintessential insubordinate cop who gets results.

But the movie's crown jewel is Hans Gruber. Cold, calculating, brilliant, and eloquent with a temper, Alan Rickman's performance as the German master thief, who holds the residents of Nakatomi Tower hostage, is simply oozing with an irresistibly classy flavor of evil. Always the smartest man in the room, Gruber works as well as he does because he thinks like a hero. That's not to say he is one, but rather, the clever way he improvises, outsmarts his enemies, engages in dialogue to resolve disputes when he can, and uses the environment to his advantage is usually reserved by writers for protagonists.

Therefore, Gruber deserves to spend most of the film this far ahead of McClane, who's punished for every mistake and forced to swallow his pride, acknowledge his flaws, evolve, and push himself beyond his limits to win. Gruber brings out the best in the hero, which is exactly what a great villain should do. So take note, screenwriters. Decades after "Die Hard," Gruber remains the gold standard against which all action movie baddies are measured.