Based on the controversial comic series by writer Garth Ennis (Preacher) and artist Darick Robertson (Transmetropolitan), The Boys is proving to be exactly the kind of iconoclastic, irreverent, satirical ass-kicking that cape culture needs right now. Earlier similar efforts, like 1999’s Mystery Men, face-planted because the broader culture of the time didn’t give a crap about superheroes; pop satire only works if everyone in the audience understands the joke. Now, with every movie goer and TV owner on the planet down with Marvel, DC, and all points in between, a show like The Boys works like a charm.
The gist is this: superheroes exist, but they’re all a) sociopathic bastards and b) under the control of the monolithic Vought Corporation, who stage-manage heroism in order to sell merchandise and hope to get a contract supplying super soldiers to the military.
Opposing this hellish compact are The Boys, an elite black ops squad led by the proudly profane Billy Butcher (Karl Urban having an absolute blast), who have taken it upon themselves to police the superhuman community with extreme prejudice.