Morally grey characters aren't asking to be accepted, just understood
Can we hold flawed characters accountable while still trying to empathise with them?
Over the years, I’ve learnt to read between the lines when it comes to on-screen characters. There’s always depth beneath the chaos, emotion tucked under all the bad decisions, and vulnerability hidden inside people who are often difficult to defend. They aren't inherently bad people. Just flawed, grey characters.
I kept seeing glimpses of the new season of Euphoria on Instagram and remember thinking how insufferable the storyline had become. There was not one character I wanted to defend. Well, maybe just one. And it’s a crowd favourite: Maddy Perez played by Alexa Demie. Now every single character on Euporia is selfish, messy, impulsive, and occasionally, deeply unlikable.
Case in point, Cassie Howard, played by Sydney Sweeney. The internet has collectively decided that she is just a bad character, while adoring Maddy. Yes, she's manipulative, explosive, and cruel, but her quiet vulnerability helps viewers see and understand why she loves as hard as she does, especially in season 3.
Years after the chaos of high school, Maddy appears more composed, building a life in Hollywood and even helping Cassie despite everything that happened between them. It’s contradictory, but that’s what makes her feel human. Even in clips from the wedding storyline, viewers picked up on a lingering sadness beneath the confidence and perfect makeup; someone still carrying the heartbreak and trauma of loving Nate Jacobs. And that’s why people love Maddy. She’s contradictory. Tough but wounded, glamorous but lonely, vindictive but still capable of care.
The truth is, nobody in Euphoria is inherently good or entirely bad. Even Lexi tends to make bad choices. All of them exist somewhere in between, in this morally grey area where people make awful choices while still being painfully human.
I remember watching 56 Days on Prime Video and having similar feelings about both protagonists. Ciara (Dove Cameron), a woman with a dark past, intentionally places herself in the orbit of a man named Oliver (Avan Jogia), carrying secrets of his own. Their relationship is built on suspicion, dishonesty, and emotional chaos, with a happy ending that was tied up a little too neatly. And yet, I found myself understanding their decisions, even when I didn’t agree with them. Ciara didn’t expect to fall for Oliver, but she’s human. She could either choose to remember the mistake Oliver made when he was a child—when she didn’t really know him—or remember the good person he was when she was with him. And she obviously chose the latter.
The entire plot of this film got me thinking about such characters, particularly those played by women and how we are always so desperate to dissect them into morally good or morally bad personas. Why can't there be a morally grey area that we don't agree with, but at least take courage to understand?
Why audiences are moving away from “perfect” characters
There was a time when audiences expected protagonists, especially women, to remain morally polished no matter what. They could be sad, heartbroken, or struggling, but never too selfish, too angry, or too chaotic. Remember Allie in The Notebook. She was heartbroken after Noah, but she didn't break into chaos. There was hardly any depth, darkness, or even a sliver of grey in her. That's what movies portrayed women to be.
But now, they seem to be moving away from that narrative entirely. Take The Housemaid, for instance. From the moment you see her onscreen, you know there is something unsettling about Sydney Sweeney’s character. She appears as a sympathetic protagonist with a "troubled past" who needs a fresh start. But her vulnerability quickly flips into manipulation, and you realise she isn’t completely innocent either. She knows what she’s doing, and yet the audience doesn’t hate her for it. Instead, they are intrigued.
Years ago, female leads were expected to remain digestible and morally easy to understand, but characters like this thrive in uncertainty. Now, you’re not entirely sure whether to pity her, fear her, or root for her, and that emotional confusion is what makes modern audiences stay invested.
The rise of “messy women” in pop culture
The rise of the “messy woman” in pop culture feels long overdue. For years, female characters were expected to be polished, emotionally restrained, and easy to root for. But audiences today seem far more interested in women who are difficult, reactive, obsessive, selfish, and deeply flawed because they feel closer to real life. These characters aren’t written to be role models; they’re written to be understood.
Take Love Quinn from You. On paper, she’s terrifying. She manipulates people, justifies violence in the name of love, and spirals whenever she feels abandoned or threatened. But what makes Love fascinating is that her behaviour is always rooted in emotional desperation. Beneath all the chaos is someone terrified of rejection and obsessed with the idea of protecting the people she loves. She isn’t emotionless or purely evil, which is exactly why audiences became so invested in her. The show constantly blurs the line between fear, empathy, and understanding.
Then there’s Georgia Miller in Ginny & Georgia, who may be one of the clearest examples of a morally grey woman audiences can’t stop rooting for. Georgia lies, manipulates situations, hides major secrets, and repeatedly crosses ethical boundaries, but almost every decision she makes comes from survival. Her charm, humour, and fierce protectiveness over her children make viewers empathise with her even when they know she’s wrong. The show never asks audiences to excuse her behaviour completely, but it does ask them to consider what years of instability, trauma, and fear can do to a person. And that’s the appeal of these characters. They remind viewers that people are rarely just one thing. They can be loving and destructive, nurturing and manipulative, vulnerable and dangerous all at once.
Understanding versus defending
Now we need to set the record straight. This article is about understanding morally grey characters, not siding with them, which is why I have to raise a few words for Deepika Padukone's character in Gehraiyaan. Yes, she was a polarising character because she represented emotional dissatisfaction in its rawest form. She cheats, lies, betrays people she loves, and constantly makes impulsive decisions that hurt everyone around her. But beneath all of that is someone deeply lonely, resentful, and emotionally suffocated by the life she’s living. The film didn’t ask viewers to approve of her infidelity or impulsiveness. It simply asked them to sit with her unhappiness long enough to understand where it came from. To understand the emotional neglect, insecurity, and longing that shaped her actions. That’s the difference with morally grey storytelling now. And understanding why they became who they are is the most important detail.
Lead image: Netflix, IMDb
Also read: How pop culture’s anti-heroes are rewriting the script on scorned women
