‘The Boys’: The Exhaustion of Possibilities
When your plot is all about explaining why something doesn’t happen.
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What’s not to love about The Boys? Exploring the inherent fascism of the whole superhero mythos, the show is about sociopaths with superpowers—the logline could be something like What if Superman was an asshole1? Which is terrific. Homelander could murder thousands of people without breaking a sweat and no one could stop him, and he’s a mentally unstable psychopath who views humans as lesser beings. And every other superpowered character on the show is essentially a seven or higher on the asshole scale, which feels so true to reality it hurts2. Of course Superman would be an asshole. People become assholes with just the slightest hint of power3.
It’s gory fun. Heads explode, people get lasered in half, entire planes full of people are murdered just to maintain the illusion that these “supes” are heroes. But as fun as it is, it’s still series television, and that means it has to spin them wheels and keep spinning them until the audience grows restless or contracts end and actors demand to leave. The show’s universe can change only incrementally, the basic forces that make up the storytelling moving with tectonic slowness.
Case in point: Homelander.
Homelander (the great Antony Starr) is a living god. He’s impervious to just about any weaponry4. He has super senses. He can fly, shoot lasers from his eyes, and is incredibly strong. He’s an unstoppable killing machine—and he’s totally insane, and completely devoid of redeeming qualities. So the question has become: Why hasn’t Homelander simply destroyed everyone who opposes him (especially the titular Boys, a semi-government sanctioned group of operatives seeking to take down the supers and the evil company, Vought International, that controls/sponsors them)? To repeat: Homelander is an insane unstoppable killing machine. And he does, in fact, kill a lot of people over the course of the show, just not any of the other major characters.
He doesn’t because there is something even more powerful than a living god: Plot armor. Homelander can’t just kill people. It would set off a chain reaction in the show’s universe that would be really exciting from an entertainment point of view and deadly difficult from a writing point of view5. As a result, the show’s plotting is increasingly just explaining why he doesn’t do the only logical thing based on his character.
Because Reasons
This is, of course, a problem with any overpowered character6. The moment you introduce Superman into the story, you have to come up with reasons why Superman wouldn’t just flick people out of his way, throw some tanks around, and declare himself King of the World7. You can infuse your character with a strict ethical or moral code, and/or come up with something like Kryptonite that can limit their power or even kill them8.
But what if you have Homelander, who is saddled with neither of these things? In the TV adaptation, early Homelander was controlled via mindfuck—he was basically tortured as a child and made to crave love and admiration so badly he was relatively easy to manipulate9. That worked well enough, but as the show progressed those barriers have been shut down, and the question becomes: What’s stopping Homelander from declaring himself King of the World?
The combined military and nuclear might of the world? Maybe. The limits of Homelander’s indestructibility aren’t clear, so he might fear being nuked out of existence. But there are many, many ways Homelander could use his power to usurp control over the world without going to those extremes. Heck, normal, not very bright humans have taken over entire countries easily enough. To be fair, the end of Season Four has put Homelander in just such a position, though it was largely through the manipulations of someone else.
Far short of that is the question of his enemies: The Boys themselves have little defense against Homelander, and if murdering them might bring down a little heat it’s doubtful Homelander would suffer any real consequences as a result—especially since The Boys came thisclose to successfully killing Homelander last season using the services of a supe of equivalent power plus some temporary superpowers for themselves.
So why doesn’t he just laser them all in half and clear his schedule? The show doesn’t really have a solution. There’s Homelander’s son, Ryan (Cameron Crovetti), who thought the leader of The Boys (Billy Butcher, played by Karl Urban’s amazing chin) was his dad for a long time. Ryan would be upset if Butcher got lasered, so it’s implied that Homelander holds off in order to avoid upsetting the only other living thing he values10. There’s some vaguery around the CIA’s fearsome powers, and how they would seek revenge. And then there’s the branding: Homelander is still ostensibly a hero, loved by millions, and he generates a lot of economic surf as a result. Murdering some people would lead to a potential cancellation and loss of revenue.
In the corporation-warped universe of The Boys, this makes sense. Except for one thing: Homelander’s aforementioned lack of sanity or human empathy.
You Wanna Get Nuts? Let’s Get Nuts
Homelander is unstable. He’s impulsive, he experiences hallucinations and intrusive thoughts11, he solves most of his small problems by squashing people like bugs, and he explicitly refers to anyone who is not a) himself, b) his son, or c) useful to him as insect-like non-people. He’s shown to be generally happy to kill on a large scale when there are no obvious repercussions (in one famous example, when his attempts to stop a plane hijacking but leaves the plane wrecked and crashing, he simply abandons everyone on board—and even threatens to laser them all to death if they try to impede his exit from the craft).
So none of the aforementioned restraints on Homelander’s impulses really make sense. At this stage of the series he’s figured out how he’s been manipulated all his life, and he’s given up even the most superficial performance to pretend like he cares about people. He hasn’t engaged in any sort of public superhero stuff—saving folks, fighting bad guys—in a long time. So the show has created a situation where they’ve made Homelander a truly terrifying villain, but lack any excuse why he doesn’t go full Dark God and just lash out at everyone12.
This has given Season Four of the series a bit of a wheel-spinning vibe. The Boys are trying to get their hands on a virus that kills superheroes (initially introduced on the spinoff show Gen V), and until they get it the plot requires Homelander to stand around glowering13 and limiting his murder activities to extremely minor characters and nameless backgrounders. Considering that the Homelander Murder Activities are why we’re here in the first place, this is frustrating writing.
Now if there was a button I could press that would give me a 99% chance of Homelander powers and 1% chance of being turned into a fine mist, I wouldn’t take the chance. We Somers’ have had terrible luck throughout history, and if I had Homelander powers I’d probably just accidentally laser my cats when they wake me up in the middle of the night, and then I’d be sad14.
NEXT WEEK: In a Violent Nature commits to the bit.
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You know what? If I was impervious to bullets and could fly, I’d probably go around wearing some ridiculous costume, too. Who would dare mock me?
To be fair, I’ve never met anyone who’s lower than a 5 on this scale. Personally, I’m an 8 on a good day.
For example, when subway and elevator doors start to close and you’re running for them, I feel like your god for about ten seconds, deciding your fate.
For example, there is an ongoing debate whether a nuclear bomb could take him out.
Trust me, there’s nothing writers fear more than hard work.
If I had a superpower it would almost certainly be the ability to make a classic “sad trombone” sound effect any time I wanted just by thinking about. This would please me.
Similarly, once you introduce me to your night out, why wouldn’t I just run up a tab on you and then climb out the bathroom window? It’s just logic.
We all have a Kryptonite. Mine, for example, is being asked direct questions like “Why do you behave in this manner?” or “Why have you been staring at me like that?” Defeats me every time.
My ears are burning for some unrelated reason. <dances until you love him>
Not loves: Values. As anyone with parents will tell you, there is a crucial difference.
Unlike me, who channels all of his intrusive thoughts into lightly-read internet newsletters.
Sadly, I myself go Full Dark God at least once a day, but my superpowers are limited to flatulence and sarcasm, so no one notices.
To be fair, watching Antony Starr glower is pretty glorious stuff. Man knows his glowering.
Also: Divorced.
Starr does such a good job. I was so creeped out by his character, I stopped watching after the first season. That, and the "this is never going to go well for anybody" vibe.