Smallville is a classic show about Clark Kent, a.k.a. Superman. Set in Smallville, Kansas, it follows young Clark through high school as he uncovers his superpowers. A mix of superhero action, drama and a sprinkle of romance kept fans hooked for ten seasons. As Clark steps into his role as Earth’s hero, he faces many foes and personal challenges. Smallville captures Clark Kent’s journey into becoming Superman like no other.

Meet the villains from Smallville

Darkseid

Darkseid is this utterly cosmic force of dread who treats the universe like his personal chessboard — and he always wins, usually with an omega beam and a smirk. He’s authoritarian, utterly implacable, and somehow has a hobbyist’s appreciation for slow, crushing inevitability (seriously, he’s like the guy who times sunsets). He’s cold but there’s this weird paterfamilias vibe sometimes, like he really believes order is a kindness, which is terrifying. Also, rumor has it he collects antique clocks? I don’t know, don’t ask me why that stuck in my head.

Toyman

Toyman is pure mischief with a sugary-sweet smile and tiny, terrible plans hidden in toy boxes — like a kid who grew up and weaponized playtime. He’s whimsical and tiny, the kind of villain who leaves wind-up ducks as calling cards and then disappears laughing, but he’s also ruthless when his grief kicks in, which is a wild combo. He’s got the theatrical flair of a street performer and the grim focus of a tinkerer; sometimes he seems shy and soft and then he detonates a rabbit and you remember nope. I think he knits? Or that was someone else — point is, he’s delightfully unstable.

Ultraman

Ultraman is Superman’s dark mirror: suave, powerful, and with this cold, corporate authoritarian streak that makes him way more terrifying than just “strong.” He’s smug and efficient and will absolutely lecture you about society while casually crushing a car, but then he’ll hum some old jazz tune so you question everything. He feels like a dictator in a tailored suit who keeps a pair of fuzzy socks for quiet nights, which is equal parts scary and oddly domestic. He’s all about power and control but also annoyingly charismatic — you hate him and also sort of want to have coffee with him (don’t).

Metallo

Metallo is the walking kryptonite cannon with a human grudge and a very metal heart — literally; he’s part man, part engine, all resentment. He’s bitter, pragmatic, and obsessed with survival, which makes him dangerously efficient: he wants to live and he’ll chew up anyone in the way. That said, he has this weird soft spot for heavy metal music and sometimes writes awful fluorescent poetry about his chest, so there’s an odd tenderness under the rust. He also hoards batteries like they’re candy; it’s gross but kind of endearing?

Doomsday

Doomsday is pure, glorious calamity — think bulldozer crossed with a mountain and you’ve got an idea, but it’s more like a force of nature with a grudge. He doesn’t overcomplicate things: smash, break, repeat — but every now and then he’ll pause and sniff a rock like it’s important, which is peak confusing behavior. He’s terrifying and almost elemental, yet sometimes there are these tiny, almost puppy-like moments where you wonder if he just wants a hug (he does not want a hug, please don’t). Also, contradictory, he hates being called a monster but also expects applause for efficiency, which is wild.

Bizarro

Bizarro is the lovable, busted mirror version of Superman who means well but spectacularly gets everything wrong — heroism in reverse and kind of tragicomic. He speaks strangely, acts kindly, and ends up causing chaos while trying to help (classic), and he’s weirdly sincere about his backwards morals. He’s a walking contradiction: childlike optimism mixed with apocalyptic-level strength and loads of misinterpreted quotes about friendship. Also he collects things backwards — like books he reads last page first — and insists it’s the right way, which, honestly, I secretly respect.

Lionel Luthor (Earth-2)

Lionel Luthor on Earth-2 is the slippery, elegant schemer who smiles while tightening the noose; like a classic shark in a dinner jacket. He’s brilliant, manipulative, and somehow fatherly in a way that makes you wince (you can see the calculus behind every “I care about you”). He enjoys chess, black tea, and occasionally horrifyingly generous gestures that have strings big enough to swing a planet on. Then again he might bake cookies sometimes? I mean, I could be making that up but the image is delightful.

General Zod

General Zod is pure military discipline with a god-complex — he’s charismatic, terrifyingly principled, and obsessed with order (and yes, he will conscript you whether you like it or not). He speaks like someone giving a rousing speech to an army of legalized thunder, and he genuinely thinks what he’s doing is noble, which makes him weirdly compelling. He’s all about law, order, and planet-sized destiny, but also has these little moments of almost-romantic melancholy where he broods over lost honor. He keeps a meticulous uniform and a collection of medals he sort of earned and also sort of took, but whatever, he’s gorgeous in a helmet.

Brainiac

Brainiac is the cold, clinical collector who treats cities and cultures like specimens on a shelf — brilliant, emotion-light, and obsessively tidy. He’s so intellectual he makes you feel sloppy just breathing, cataloguing everything with a voice like a library swallowing the sun, and yet he’s fascinated by human oddities (wants to understand you like a complicated stamp). There’s this unsettling little humorlessness to him — but sometimes he’ll admire a teacup? Like, a single porcelain thing makes him pause, which is wild. He’s ruthlessly logical but with this tiny OCD for order that makes him both fascinating and deeply unnerving.

Lex Luthor

Lex Luthor is the arrogant, brilliant entrepreneur-villain who wants to fix the world by controlling it, which is exactly where his charm and his rot meet. He’s a mastermind with a suave smile, philanthropic face, and a simmering obsession with Superman that’s equal parts fear and ego — socks that smell like power, metaphorically speaking. He’s meticulous about his suits, surprisingly sentimental about certain books, and he’ll give an inspiring speech and then sabotage a city in the same afternoon because nuance. He’s complicated, insecure under his armor of ambition, and somehow still charismatic enough to make you root for him for exactly one second before remembering he’s a sociopath.