The Devil in a Tuxedo

Perhaps it is not just the devil we know, but the devil that is well-groomed.

It is the villain that is civil, refined, polished, to whom we are most attracted. They exhibit fine manners and attributes befitting a high station in life. Their language is skilled. They are well-read, knowledgeable, and exact a measure of power.

In horror movies, I am speaking of Count Dracula, a nobleman, who traveled through time to be with the queen that he lost, the ultimate love story. We are enamored with Dracula, dressed in formal evening wear, who is of royalty, hails from an old family tradition, won countless battles, and who cursed the Church when they condemned his bride for committing suicide.

It was the stuff of Bram Stoker’s dreams, who instead of using his homeland of Ireland as the backdrop of his novel, chose Transylvania. It made the tale even more gothic, mysterious, tantalizing.

Though he drinks blood and creates disciples, Dracula has captured the imagination of millions over generations. Thousands of devotees create literature, film, plays, even games dedicated to him.

What if Dracula was poor? The story would never have sold.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter in fact is a most despicable character by his actions, but his philosophical acumen and cultural refinement have become that of cinematic legend. We cheer for his escape because he only eats the rude, and his moral code and je ne sais quoi are both alluring and envious.

We want to be like our anti-heroes who commit crimes with etiquette and depravity – or at least the etiquette. In turn, we find unappealing the deep flaws in the alleged protagonists who pursue them and justify rooting for them to fail.

Even FBI Agent Clarice Starling, though we sympathize with her, and wish her good tidings, as well as an ascent up the agency ladder, is to engage in intellectual jousts with Dr. Lecter and to get caught in sexual tension, and never to capture him. Our anti-hero must prevail, as we will see him prospering in his other iterations in the near future.

It is the classic trope of the high-class robber who invades the formal party, politely demanding jewelry and other items be placed into black velvet sacks, then recites a poem before dashing into the night. Even though the police will be called, and there will be an investigation, secretly the party does not want him apprehended – most likely the robber is male – because the thrill of being visited by the mysterious villain with romantic flair is simply intoxicating.

This is why white-collar crime is so pervasive, yet equally elusive. The characters are easily identifiable to those of their ilk. “…50, 100 million dollars. A player, or nothing,” says Gordon Gekko to Bud Fox, the young inspiring stockbroker seduced by the S&P phenom in the movie Wall Street. Gekko is ruthless, cunning, and compelling, someone we love to hate (and recite all of his lines) and one who easily entices prospects to make deals with him in the back room.

It is our well-groomed devil that lives in the whispers of the elite.

Only those of grossly ill repute will be caught – Bernie Madoff, Kenneth Lay and Jeffrey Skilling of Enron, Jeffrey Epstein – those that are too flashy, too flamboyant, or too reckless for their own good, and threaten to ruin the playing field of which they are privileged. First (and second) rule of high-level corruption: you don’t talk about high level corruption. Third rule: you play in the shadows.

There are those who scoff at the ethical practices of Jeff Bezos, Warren Buffet, Mark Zuckerberg, and others, but many more praise their climb to super wealth, and are grasping for the carrot placed just out of reach before them, with the idea that they can be as the few on top of the mountain. After all, isn’t that what America is about?

The point is that we exalt our anti-heroes, even though they may prey upon us. The bloodsuckers, the serial killers, the hatchet men, as long as they come to us in pomp and circumstance, as long as they present us with pretty packaging, and appeal to our sensibilities, we will acquiesce to their withdrawal from our pockets, to attempt to live a fraction of the lifestyle they present to us.

So, we lock our doors, install cameras, beef up security, participate in community watch patrols, petition our legislators to be tougher on blue-collar crime, and assiduously profile anyone that remotely appears to be a menace. The concentrated population of perpetrators scurries around our communities wreaking havoc, threatening to cause bodily harm to anyone who ‘snitches’.

Meanwhile, the high-class thieves enter into our imagination and extract our savings.

The common thug is the bane of our existence, the one with the razor stubble, unkempt hair. and a sleeveless white tee shirt. He is the low-level vampire, the filthy, non-human with dark soulless eyes who shrills instead of speaks – like the vampires who invade a small town in Alaska in the film 30 Days of Night – who tears at the flesh instead of pricking the vein and drinking slowly – the dirty devil who makes a mess of the place.

These monsters are terribly made, their insides burning as they suffer through the transformation, not beautifully gifted like the nobleman who passes immortality to a privileged one, and after their rebirth guides them through the ways of their new world.

We must lock this parasite up and throw away the key, for he is the vermin that politicians use as bait to cash in on hefty campaign contributions and to win favor amongst the ruling class who have pitted poor and working-class people against each other since the early days of the republic.

Count Dracula enters into bedrooms as mist and appears in regal form, drains the lifeblood of his victims, and waits for death to resurrect them as his brides. They are lost to us forever, and the only way to liberate their souls is to drive stakes through their hearts. Yet even as our beloved nemesis meets his fate, we pine for the day he will be resurrected, and live again in our dreams.