Having enjoyed the absolute heck out of Wonder Man, and recently catching up with Invincible and Daredevil: Broody Blind Guy Pants Alot… there was only one other comic-centric property to tick the box on my “late spring second screening” tour: The Boys. And here, on the precipice of the series finale of the streaming gore fest, I thought I’d check in with some thoughts.
First, let’s cover the business end. The show itself is an adaptation of the comic by Garth Ennis and Darrick Robertson, which debuted back in 2006. It lasted six issues with the DC imprint Wildstorm, before being picked up to complete a seventy-two issue run with Dynamite Entertainment — who gave Ennis and Robertson the freedom to let the disgusting jokes, insane violence, and deep-cut cynicism flow like water. In 2015, Seth Rogan, Evan Goldberg, and Eric Kripke signed the paperwork to adapt the comic into a streaming series. The show itself was picked up in 2017, and debuted in 2019 on Amazon Prime. On Wednesday, May 20th, the series ended — most likely with as much Hollywood blood as Jeff Bezos can afford.
For those not in-the-the-know? I’m not going to try to pitch you the series, nor waste words recapping the thirty-nine episodes therein. Simply put: if you ever wanted to see what the MCU would feel like if it occurred in our world as led by Donald Trump? This is about the most logical, sensible, and honest take on superheroes you’ll ever find. It’s obnoxious, gory, horny, celebrity-focused, and there’s barely half a dozen people in the entire show who themselves are abject absolute pricks. If that’s your cuppa? Welcome home. For the rest? Best be on your way and I’ll catch you down the road.
The Boys as a show takes the comic at arm’s length, squints, and then says “don’t worry, I got this”. The names of the characters match. The 10,000 foot view of the world is pretty similar. But everything else? Well, it’s become its own thing, for better or worse.
The better? Antony Starr’s take on Homelander. Give the writer’s room credit here. On the page of the pulp? Homelander is akin to a dozen other evil Superman pastiches. Perfectly fine, mind you, but could get old fast on screen. In the show, Vought’s poster boy is a far more complex creature. The literal lab-born superhero was raised to be the perfect proxy for American idealism…by way of the deep state. On the surface, he’s a celebrated A-list celebrity — saving lives, giving inspiring speeches, and generally oozing patriotism. Not barely a micron under the skin though, he’s a narcissistic sadist with a penchant for control, love, and attention. Seems the folks behind Compound V could build the weapon, but forgot a much-needed killswitch. Because of this, Starr chews the scenery like no one else. His ability to play a god among men is palpable. Every scene he’s in comes in-part with the sinking feeling that with the wrong reply to his wit could end in a brutal murder. As Hedley Lamaar once said… kinky….
Homelander aside, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also give some kudos to Karl Urban’s take on Billy Butcher, and the hey, you’re nothing like the comic! Jack Quaid playing Not Even Remotely Wee Hugh(ie) Campbell. In the comics, Butcher is a foul-mouthed, clean-shaven, barrel-chested brit. Wee Hughie is… Simon Pegg. On screen, ole’ Billy is a foul-mouthed, bearded, fit Karl Urban. Hugh Campbell is American instead of Scottish, but his dad is played by Simon Pegg. So, I guess points to Amazon there. What I appreciate about the television adaptation are the subtle shifts of both characters. Urban’s Butcher shares the same drive, determination, and grey morals his pulpy counterpart has… but with far more likeability. A necessary component in the same way monsters like Walter White and Tony Soprano could not simply be vile all the time and remain the kinds of protagonists you’d root for. Hugh vs. Hughie strictly comes down to the tv show opting quickly to move past the “always screaming, always freaking out, always terrified” version we got in the comic. Hugh is clearly more cynical, world-weary, and crafty. He still remains the everyman necessary for the plot, but with a level of rookie confidence that keeps things chugging along.
Great casting aside, The Boys on Amazon have adapted their premise to best suit the way of life here, now twenty years beyond when the comic itself had started. Rather than be a sendup of the pulp and paper, the show is clearly more focused on the media empire business, fame, and the push and pull between superpowered beings, and the muggles who serve, worship, fear, or not-so-secretly-want-to-murder them. The Hollywood writers room was apt to be inspired by not chained to the source material. Because of this, The Boys series boasts far more females on screen than ever appear in the book. New heroes created for the show fit perfectly in-universe, and add nuance — less immediate gore and debauchery — which makes the world feel lived-in. The fact that Vought itself feels almost Amazon-like in its presentation is maybe a little too close to reality. Can’t wait to see Bezos flying into space… sans rocket.
But as we near the end of the show, there are some nits to pick. Remember, I said “for better or worse”, and yeah. There are quite a few worse things about the show.
First and foremost? While I’d love to say I appreciate the vast differences in character of Frenchie and The Female, their TV show counterparts feel more like manipulated focus group bullet points shoved into human skin. In the comic, Frenchie and the Female are mostly relegated to secondary roles. They are muscle. They are madness. They counter the more measured meat-and-potatoes that Butcher, Hughie, and Mother’s Milk serve during the series. On the show? They become a couple by virtue of the fact all TV shows seem to hoist them on the narrative (it adds stakes!). This means we’re treated to convoluted sidestories in which there is woo-pitched. There is inevitable danger and sacrifice. There are tearful goodbyes. It’s rote. While I appreciate the Amazon-Frenchman whose bag of tricks makes him the team science bro… again: the whole of the character seems always to be plugging a hole in the script. It’s fine, but doesn’t offer us much else. And imagine my surprise when Kimiko cured her mutism and spends most of the final season presumably speaking as much as possible to ensure it makes its way to Karen Fukuhara’s reel. More power to her, mind you… but again: the whole presentation is only to lurch plot points to a close.
Second up… the monotony. The show’s whole visual vibe is like the first half of a commercial for an anti-depressant… you know, before the medication makes the world have color again. And then comes the season sprawl. Episodes aren’t exactly episodes, so much as a “45-55 minute slice of a very long movie”. This means a full season simply feels like a single movie in a now five-part series. Where this becomes a problem is when you can feel the gears of momentum grind to a literal halt as the good guys have to chase MacGuffin X for Y episodes only to lead to some unforeseen twist that creates Z more MacGuffins. Rinse. Repeat. And at the center of all of this, we’ve been circling the same drain for five seasons. “How will Butcher and the Boys finally kill Homelander”. All the pomp and circumstance, plot and sidequests around it have been plenty watchable… but the invisible hands of fate keeping the final confrontation from happening has been more frustrating than fun.
Honorable mention comes to the odd way in which the show does or doesn’t spend money. When the powers that be want to flex their Bezos bucks? We get splashy secret cameos like Samuel L. Jackson as the voice of a shark, Charlize Theron as herself playing Stormfront in a Vought production (but not the actual Stormfront…), or drop-ins like Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Billy Zane, or John Noble. With that kind of flex, funny then how they couldn’t afford to depict Herogasm to even a fraction of how it was depicted in the comic. And it was clearer than Hughie on Temp-V, that it was the budget that kept the superheroes small on the show. Add in the dependency on more than a few repeated sets, some iffy costume design, and copy/paste audio clips for each power used and it’s like you can feel the line-item budget being audited per episode.
As for my personal “worst of the worst”? It’s sadly Annie January / Starlighter. When the show began, breaking her innocence of the behind-the-curtain nastiness of the world of The Boys was done superbly. But then, ever since, the light of Starlighter grew dimmer with each passing episode and season. By season 5, she’s nothing more than a sneering bit of drywall, there to fire some VFX star beams or make her eyes do that little “wrrrrrr” thing when she’s powering up… and not much else. You could tell the writers wrote themselves into a corner, and with all the other moving pieces they latched on to… suddenly one of the POV characters they clearly were setting up to carry the series was nothing more than deadweight in tight jeans.
Not to pile on before exiting stage left… let’s not forget Ryan — son of Homelander. In the comics, the character doesn’t survive (in one of the most shocking / vile / awful parts of the book). Here, the writer’s room see the potential, and repeatedly drop the ball too many times to count. After a complete subplot of “who will be the right daddy” was done and dusted… Ryan fulfilled his role as not quite the MacGuffin we were hoping for #1,294. A few eye beams missed, and a Homelander beatdown left the angsty teen a mess. He’s ultimately saved, cleaned up, patted on the butt, and thanked for playing. If he’d happen back to muck up the finale? All the worse.
When the dust settled Wednesday night, I hoped — much like the season finale of Daredevil last week — I wind up content, if not blown away. The show has always been like a slice of cold pizza. It’s never bad. It’s rarely as good as what it was the first time around. Garth Ennis and Darrick Robertson’s send up of Supes was a lesson in pushing the envelope until it dissolved in a sea of its own bodily fluids. Rogen and friends captured the spirit, and then beat a dead horse for a few too many roundabout episodes. It happens. I imagine the show will continue to hold up as a black mirror to our present-day… if not as insanely-oddly-truthful and sad as the actual Black Mirror. So, with all that said? I’ll miss Karl Urban’s viscous braying of the word that quintessentially defines the show:
Diabolical.
