“The Boys” has always relied on the promise of delayed satisfaction. Its premise relied upon the continued survival of its mascot, Homelander (Antony Starr), a sniveling, entitled bully with a god complex, making much of the show a tedious waiting game to see how he could be defeated.
Unfortunately, Season 5 continues the trend, taking a disappointingly safe approach to handling the tense state of affairs. Billy Butcher (Karl Urban) resumes an uneasy alliance with the gang following his horrifying heel turn and a new MacGuffin emerges in the form of V-One. And so begins another round of alternating between sappy heart-to-hearts for our heroes and grating corporate drama for the villains. Homelander’s consolidation of power, by controlling hired superheroes and spineless government officials, makes little impact on the show’s status quo. The result is a narrative that only begins to feel like an ending in its last few episodes.
“The Boys” has undergone a noticeable identity loss throughout its run. Some crucial characters have been abruptly written off, while many others have had their development stall out as the show spins its wheels. The ambitious scale of the show has eroded, too; most of the key confrontations of Season 5 take place in drab rooms with a handful of actors, a far cry from the plane crashes, naval battles and superhero orgies of seasons past (with the apparent budget cuts made, perhaps it was destined to disappoint).
While it’s understandable that much of the source material has been toned down, it becomes clear in the series finale that the deviations never truly paid off. It lacks the spontaneity suggested by the show’s offbeat style; by now, anyone who’s given the outcome of the show any serious thought has likely guessed where these characters’ stories are headed.
When “The Boys” does attempt satire, its inconsistent tone often interferes. By tempering its signature cynical edge with unwavering optimism, the show contradicts its own ethos. A monologue from Stan Edgar (Giancarlo Esposito) accurately identifies the cyclical nature of superpowered people under capitalism, but by focusing so singularly on the fight against Homelander, the show shies away from truly grappling with the dangers posed by all superheroes. As is typical of the very media landscape it seeks to satirize, “The Boys” opts to vaguely gesture toward the power of love rather than offering any substantive answers to the questions it asks. Ironically, the show always seems to have the least to say when it’s trying its hardest to be astute.
Another disappointing result of the show’s allegorical approach is how it has adapted to an era of artificial intelligence-fueled misinformation, a choice that deflates the narrative tension. After Homelander’s refusal to save the passengers of Flight 37 is finally exposed by Starlight (Erin Moriarty) in the opening moments of Season 5, he simply skirts the consequences through denial and claims of digital manipulation. The realism of this is aggravating rather than refreshing; considering Homelander’s threat of brutal retaliation at the thought of such a thing, it feels like a copout born of laziness.
Unfortunately, “The Boys” never quite found its footing again after Season 3’s questionable conclusion, which paved the way for a frustratingly repetitive routine. It’s fitting, then, that “The Boys” would go out with a work that’s less than the sum of its parts, fleeting moments of greatness loosely strung together by crass metaphors (e.g., “it smells like an Abercrombie got fucked by a 7-Eleven while Arby’s jerked off in the corner”) and cloying sentimentality. Given the recent decline of the superhero genre, it seems safe to say that the franchise outlived its parodic relevance, though with “Vought Rising” on the horizon, perhaps I’ll be proven wrong.
Daily Arts Writer Sabrina Rosenstock can be reached at rosensab@umich.edu.
