How would Superman operate in a world identical to our own? Would his moral righteousness be corrupted by a lust for wealth and status? In a world riddled with inequality, political corruption, resurgent right-wing populism and corporate domination, could we trust super-powered humans to actually be heroes?
These questions might seem silly but it is this kind of fun reflection that has drawn millions of viewers to the Amazon Prime TV show, The Boys. It is an exhilarating and at times disturbing response to an entertainment landscape dominated by idealistic portrayals of superheroes.
Enduring art holds a mirror to reality, which can compel critical reflection. This is what The Boys has achieved in its past three seasons by exploring a central theme: power.
Superhero stories are inspiring because we get to witness humans with god-like abilities use their power for good against tremendous odds. The Flash can run at the speed of light; Wonder Woman is an immortal warrior, who can easily lift tons of weight, and Iron Man is a billionaire, who dons a suit that makes him able to rival elite military units.
Generally, the heroes of comic books are extraordinary not only in their superhuman abilities but also in their moral tenacity. Clark Kent, Reed Richards, Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker — these characters are immune to the corrupting dynamics of our world. They have to be for their stories to continually excite and inspire.
These characters are purposefully written to be idealistic, occasionally touching on darker themes, but mostly offering spectacle and not artistic reflection.
The lucrative success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe has left some superhero fans fatigued by the never-ending, predictable feel-good spectacles where implausibly good people never fail to save the day.
The Boys does not make the lazy, cynical argument that people granted superhuman power would instantly fall to evil because, well, that’s just “human nature”. Instead, the show offers a satirical take on the superhero genre, showing how we are shaped by our individual agency, our human needs and our socioeconomic conditions.
In The Boys’ universe, as in our own, the socioeconomic conditions are moulded by neoliberal capitalism.
The Boys, following in the tradition of comics such as Alan Moore’s Watchmen, deconstructs the superhero genre and explores how these heroes would behave in a world nearly identical to our own.
In the show, humans granted extraordinary abilities work for Vought International. Started by a Nazi scientist who found sanctuary in the United States government after World War II, it is a multibillion-dollar corporation that manufactures pharmaceuticals, sells weapons and has profitable operations in the entertainment and fast-food industries.
Annually earning billions of dollars, Vought International manages its superheroes like celebrities. They gain this adoration not through genuine acts of heroism but with movie and brand deals, relentless merchandising and carefully managed public relations campaigns.
Rather than being paragons of virtue, in The Boys’ universe, superheroes are commodities whose image is readily monetised. Usually egotistical, hedonistic and careless in the use of their powers, they are indifferent to saving lives but profoundly concerned with maintaining a good public image that allows them to retain their celebrity status.
In the premiere episode, we meet Hughie Campbell, a sweet, timid electronics salesman who appears discontented with the monotony of his life. His girlfriend, Robin, is killed by speedster superhero A-Train while standing on the pavement of a city street. Hughie is offered $50 000 by Vought International — accompanied by a non-disclosure agreement.
A-Train gives a public statement regretting the incident as unfortunate but unavoidable, collateral damage resulting from him chasing a villain. Hughie finds out that A-Train was high on drugs, which he was rushing to deliver as he ran through Robin’s body. Worse, A-Train feels no guilt or shame for what he did.
Mourning in rage, Hughie craves justice and soon he meets Billy Butcher, alongside several other characters who form a vigilante group whose mandate is to rein in destructive superheroes.
Through its cast of complex characters, The Boys reveals where power is located in neoliberal capitalism, how it functions and what it produces. This is best executed through Homelander, a refreshing interpretation of an “evil” Superman.
The public is told Homelander is an alien who landed on Earth and was raised by salt-of-the-earth Americans. He was, in fact, grown in a laboratory and granted powers by a potent chemical manufactured by Vought called Compound V.
To his fans, Homelander is charismatic, undoubtedly righteous, modest, patriotic and God-fearing — a Boy Scout turned into a Greek god. But, behind closed doors and away from the spotlight, Homelander is a terrifying sociopath.
Viewing himself as a superior being, Homelander is repulsed by the frailty of humans. Brought up by scientists and managed by corporate executives and PR people his entire life, he has no true family or friends and finds it impossible to empathise with human beings who do not have superpowers. His heroics are motivated by maintaining his god-like status among fans and ensuring his position as Vought’s golden boy.
Being an egomaniac with superhuman strength, speed and hearing, near invulnerability, the ability to fly, as well as X- and heat-ray vision, Homelander inspires paralysing fear in his fellow superheroes and corporate managers.
A corporation seeking to expand its profits has manufactured a superhero who is obsessed with the worship of his fans, merchandising, social media numbers and indifferent to human life. Through Homelander we also see how corporate power infiltrates governments, ridiculing the principles of democracy. In season one, we find out Vought International is eager to put superheroes in the military — for an exorbitant price, of course.
Realising that superheroes could be ill-disciplined and exceedingly destructive in military operations, American politicians generally oppose the idea. While buying a superhero, the mayor of Baltimore tries to blackmail Madelyn Stillwell, the vice-president of hero management at Vought, to lower the price.
Using his super-hearing, Homelander listens to this conversation and later that evening strikes down the mayor’s private jet with his heat-ray vision. Vought covers up the assasination and Homelander faces no consequences for his action.
As widening inequality, economic precariousness and complacency among political elites propels the resurgence of right-wing populism in the US, we witness Homelander indulge in alt-right talking points in season two (mirroring former president Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election), driven by his child-like desperation to be loved and worshipped, even if some of his fans are neo-Nazis.
In season two, Vought faces a congressional investigation regarding its role in supplying Compound V to terrorists. Before the hearing commences, the heads of multiple witnesses and congressmen explode. The scene is gruesome and the incident is framed as a super-terrorist attack, which instills fear in the public, heightening the demand for superheroes in the military.
Later, we discover that the person responsible for the massacre was a congresswoman with telepathic superpowers, working under the orders of Vought International’s chief executive, Stan Edgar.
Although Homelander is the most powerful being on the planet, and certainly the central antagonist of the show, Vought’s Edgar is its greatest evil and one of its best representations of power. Unlike all Vought employees or all superheroes, Edgar has never shown any fear of Homelander.
He does not consider violent force to be the only true kind of power. In season three, he defines real power as “the ability to bend the world to your will”.
Being chief executive of Vought, not only does Edgar provide the superheroes with exorbitant incomes and luxurious lifestyles, he orchestrates a corporate empire that dictates the shape of 21st-century America in The Boys’ universe. Corporate lobbyists, military contractors, media outlets and movie franchises function as tools for Edgar and his shareholders to continue on a path of accumulation, even if it comes at the cost of producing monsters like Homelander.
Even in its third season, which aired its finale episode this past week, The Boys continues to mirror our reality. One in which the powerful do not use their abilities for heroic good, but for profit and fame. Not because we are inherently greedy, selfish creatures but because the material conditions of capitalism, and the political structure that grows from it, encourage greed and vanity while promoting explosive division as more and more of us struggle to survive in this frail, unstable economic order.
The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Mail & Guardian.
[/membership]