The Emperor’s New Groove: Making Your Arrogant Characters Bearable

One of the very first articles Sophia and I posted on the blog was about how to write arrogant characters in such a way that your readers don’t want to close your book forever. There’s a way to do them right, so that your readers can understand their flaws, even if they don’t relate to them, and want to see them change for the better, even if they’re irritated with their arrogance.

But some characters aren’t meant to be that way. Some arrogant characters open the book at the very beginning of a drastic character arc, where their journey will completely overhaul everything about them and change the very core of who they are. And — more often than not — those characters have flaws that are so extreme and deep-rooted that there isn’t much hope for making them relatable or giving your audience a satisfying explanation for why they are the way they are. These characters are much more than a product of their past, and often made conscious choices that have accentuated their flaws and made them a defining characteristic of who they are.

So how can you write characters like this — whether their fatal flaw is arrogance or something else entirely — in such a way that your readers don’t close the book and walk away out of irritation?

The answer is found in Disney’s The Emperor’s New Groove.

The Emperor’s New Groove

Kuzco is the teenage emperor of an ancient South American kingdom. The movie opens the day before his eighteenth birthday, when he will come of age and assume all of the responsibilities associated with the throne — displacing his cruel advisor Yzma from her position of power and influence. 

Kuzco kicks off the celebrations by firing her from her position immediately, securing his authority over his kingdom and removing yet another annoyance that threatens to ruin his special day. He follows this up by summoning a representative peasant from a far-flung village in the mountains, whom Kuzco gleefully informs that he plans to demolish the entire town’s ancestral home. The peasant, Pacha, is aghast and demands an explanation. Kuzco happily explains that it’s all to build a new lavish vacation summer house as yet another birthday celebration. Pacha is devastated, as he and his entire community will have nowhere to live. He pleads for his home and community, but Kuzco, with comical arrogance, denies his request and celebrates his birthday gift to himself.

Yzma, furious with Kuzco and determined to maintain her grip on the throne, hatches a plan to have him poisoned. But her vial is accidentally switched for another potion — and it transforms Kuzco into a llama. Although she attempts to have him executed once he’s in llama form, she ultimately fails and, through a series of mishaps, Kuzco ends up miles from the palace, stranded with Pacha as his only connection to society.

Despite his arrogance and ignorant confidence, Kuzco eventually realizes he has no idea how to navigate the treacherous mountain paths standing between him and his home. The only way for him to get back to the palace and stop Yzma’s takeover is to accept Pacha as his guide. But if they work together, they just might have a chance to make it back to the capital, where they can challenge Yzma and hopefully win back the throne.

Why Kuzco Works

Kuzco is the epitome of arrogance. He’s clearly never been denied anything in his entire life, and is soon to take on incredible power. He’s literally introduced through the “theme song” his servants sing for him every morning, which praises, well, just about everything about him. In fact, his arrogance is so powerful that it eliminates the possibility of anyone relating to him. He’s made conscious choices that accentuate his self-centeredness and fully alienate him from most of his viewers.

So… why do people still watch the movie?

Because he’s hilarious.

Every line, every scene, every song is so exaggerated that it’s impossible to take him seriously. He’s absolutely ridiculous, and everyone knows it except him, which leads to more than a few funny scenarios.

This isn’t going to work for every arrogant or deeply flawed character. But like we talked about last summer, drastic character arcs are some of the most powerful in fiction because of how extreme they are. Grunkle Stan himself, our case study for that article, worked so well because the writers used this technique. Both Grunkle Stan and Kuzco were so flawed that their writers had no choice but to make them hilarious.

And that in no way diminished either of their character arcs.

We stuck around for the opening because of how humorous these characters’ flaws were, and by the end we were invested because of how far they’d come since then. Kuzco is completely changed by the conclusion of the movie, willing not only to remove his plans for his summer home, but also rule for the benefit of the people under him. His character arc was able to be so drastic because the writers could afford to write a character with such a deep-seated and persistent flaw — all because of the power of humor.

And sometimes this will work the other way around. It’s possible that, as you develop a character you originally intended to fill a more benign, simple role as the comic relief, you’ll begin to recognize that they have the potential to completely change. You can see why they are flawed so deeply, and how those flaws could be healed to create a radically different and much more compelling character by the conclusion of their arc.

 Characters like this, more than any other archetype, have the potential for the most drastic character arcs. Since noticing how powerful arcs like Grunkle Stan’s and Kuzco’s can be, I now see almost every comic relief character as a new opportunity. Each comes with deep flaws, ridiculous perspectives and lines, and yet because of it, they also bring an incredible opportunity for redemption and change, showing even the simplest character has the capacity to grow. 

Like I said before, this technique isn’t for every character.

But if you have a character starting out his journey through a drastic arc, so deeply flawed that you’re worried he’ll alienate readers because of it, consider letting him become comic relief. It will not only alleviate some of the burden of creating a deeply flawed character who your readers can understand and sympathize with, but also open up the opportunity for an even more drastic character arc, as your readers gradually shift from laughing at him to cheering him on through his journey. 

Let us know in the comments:

Are there any comic relief characters you’ve seen who you wish would get an arc? Did they end up getting one in the end?