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A review by billcoffin
The Boys, Volume 4: We Gotta Go Now by Garth Ennis
1.0
The Boys is an unflinchingly graphic, 12-volume descent into sexual violence, exploding bodies, depravity, broken taboos and bodily fluids that purports to deconstruct the superhero genre with a chaser of black humor. All it really accomplishes, however, is a whole lot of sophomoric commentary on power and politics, stretches of exposition that last for entire issues at a time, unpleasant and inconsistent artwork, and a certain hypocrisy from a creative team which seems to revel in depicting all of the terrible violations it decries.
The story involves a CIA black ops group tasked with monitoring, terrorizing and murdering rogue superheroes in a world where pretty much *all* superheroes are nothing more than fraudulent predators and degenerates. Into this mess enters Wee Hughie, a fellow who loses his girlfriend early on as collateral damage in a super-brawl. Hughie, recruited by the Boys’ leader, Butcher, sees just how sick and dirty the world of supes - and those who oppose them - really is. And pretty soon, what begins as a covert containment program turns into all-out war.
Put together, what could have been a brilliant criticism of a genre that we take for granted instead feels like a three-day lecture by 15-year-old edgelords who really want you to know why their hormonally supercharged worldview ought to be taken seriously by grown-ups. No, we don’t want to hear why you think sexual violence is okay when it is committed by a bulldog. No, we don’t want to see how often you can fit an act of public excretion into your story. No, we don’t want to see how cool your characters in trench coats are. No, we don’t need to actually see somebody eating a dead infant.
One imagines that this entire series is an extended middle finger to the notion of “With great power comes great responsibility.” It often feels like the creators here are angry that superhero comics even exists, and that their fans continue to buy them. We get it - the superhero genre has definitely gotten big enough and overstuffed enough for somebody to take the air out of it. But The Boys ain’t it. This isn’t insightful enough to work as criticism, clever enough to work as parody, funny enough to work as black comedy, or focused enough to work on any of the three previous fronts even if the skill was there for this to succeed.
The Boys is just a chronicle of cynicism, vicious and vile, slapdash and self-indulgent, excessive and egocentric. For those looking to read a different kind of take on the superhero concept, there are plenty better to choose from - Brian Michael Bendis’ POWERS instantly comes to mind - that won’t make you want to disinfect your hands when you’re done.
The story involves a CIA black ops group tasked with monitoring, terrorizing and murdering rogue superheroes in a world where pretty much *all* superheroes are nothing more than fraudulent predators and degenerates. Into this mess enters Wee Hughie, a fellow who loses his girlfriend early on as collateral damage in a super-brawl. Hughie, recruited by the Boys’ leader, Butcher, sees just how sick and dirty the world of supes - and those who oppose them - really is. And pretty soon, what begins as a covert containment program turns into all-out war.
Put together, what could have been a brilliant criticism of a genre that we take for granted instead feels like a three-day lecture by 15-year-old edgelords who really want you to know why their hormonally supercharged worldview ought to be taken seriously by grown-ups. No, we don’t want to hear why you think sexual violence is okay when it is committed by a bulldog. No, we don’t want to see how often you can fit an act of public excretion into your story. No, we don’t want to see how cool your characters in trench coats are. No, we don’t need to actually see somebody eating a dead infant.
One imagines that this entire series is an extended middle finger to the notion of “With great power comes great responsibility.” It often feels like the creators here are angry that superhero comics even exists, and that their fans continue to buy them. We get it - the superhero genre has definitely gotten big enough and overstuffed enough for somebody to take the air out of it. But The Boys ain’t it. This isn’t insightful enough to work as criticism, clever enough to work as parody, funny enough to work as black comedy, or focused enough to work on any of the three previous fronts even if the skill was there for this to succeed.
The Boys is just a chronicle of cynicism, vicious and vile, slapdash and self-indulgent, excessive and egocentric. For those looking to read a different kind of take on the superhero concept, there are plenty better to choose from - Brian Michael Bendis’ POWERS instantly comes to mind - that won’t make you want to disinfect your hands when you’re done.