Here we have, after all, a type of devil incarnate, what one of my favorite movies "Time Bandits" refers to as Pure Evil. He-who-shall-not-be-named is so corrupt that he split his soul into pieces in an attempt to cheat death (and yet only lasted for seven movies. Let that be a lesson to you, kids). There's nothing new in pop culture about re-enacting the ultimate battle between Good and Evil. And Lord Voldemort certainly fit the familiar stereotype in many ways: His revolting appearance, unrestrained cruelty, frightening abilities to know people and manipulate them -- all of it combined to make him appear a foe that was virtually unstoppable.

But what I noticed in both the book and the movie, and what strikes me as a surprising bit of truth for J. K. Rowling to present, was that there was one other quality that Voldemort's evil brought out in him: Stupidity. I don't mean that in a comical way; it struck me as a profound observation about the real evil that we encounter in ourselves and others. It doesn't hone our intelligence and make us as wickedly sharp-witted as, say, Heath Ledger's psychopathic Joker in "The Dark Knight" or any of the James Bond smart-guy baddies. So often, when those villains are confronted in the ultimate battle, they still manage to appear smart, powerful and really, really cool.

Lord Voldemort, by comparison, didn't have a lot of suave, self-possessed moments in this last movie. He didn't look invulnerable and detached when he was facing down the personification of Good -- he looked increasingly harried, haggard and terrified. He still maintained his cruel designs on other people and always had control over his minions, but in contrast with Harry Potter at the end, he comes off as something weak, not strong. He is stupefied when he is thwarted and speechless when Harry confronts him head on. (As you'd imagine, there's no way to point to online clips, but if you want, consider the look on Voldemort's face at the :59 point in the Deathly Hallows trailer. That's the type of thing I mean.)

I just loved that moment on honesty, especially since I know how much audience tastes tend to run in favor of trite expressions of Evil as something wildly beautiful. But is it ever? In our lives, we've met people who have made a habit out of evil, and we've known times -- God help us -- when we've made the wrong choice knowing that it was the wrong choice. We've lied not because we had to or because we didn't know any better, but because it was a lie and because, just for a moment, we believed in The Lie more than we believed in The Truth. Did it make us feel stronger? The people we've known who are trapped in that life -- has it made them more intelligent, more peaceful, more beautiful, more fun to be around?

Maybe I'm missing something, but in real life, Evil doesn't begin to live up to its on-screen persona. It should look dull, low-functioning, limited, torpid -- the way it feels. Maybe I'm thinking of the Night on Bald Mountain sequence from the original 1940 "Fantasia." There's no reason offered for why a demon that covers the top of a mountain has nothing better to do than play with the undead for a while, but note his reaction (at about the 5:30 mark in the video HERE) when the church bell announces that morning has come. Does he look particularly bright or powerful? C. S. Lewis had a problem with the Bald Mountain segment of the movie in comparison to the "Ave Maria" sequence that followed it. He felt that Disney had made Evil appear all too real and Good appear vapid and pointless. He's right, of course, but I could never forget that awful look on the demon's face when morning came, just as I have a hard time forgetting that dull terror exhibited by the trapped Lord Voldemort. There's a powerful moment of recognition for me: That's what evil feels like.