The Boys ended last week and I genuinely don’t know what to say.
“Disappointed” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I feel betrayed.
When The Boys first came out, it was everything the safe, PG-13 superhero movies weren’t. Sharp, brutal, and genuinely unafraid to offend. The first couple of seasons felt like a breath of fresh air — a show that actually had something to say.
Then it slowly started losing its way.
The final season should have been Homelander unleashed. The most powerful and unstable man on the planet going scorched earth against Butcher. Instead, we got a supposedly godlike superhero on his knees, sobbing and begging for mercy. Disconnected from everything the show spent four seasons building.
At this point, I honestly think even sticking closer to the comic book storyline would have been a better choice than whatever they ended up delivering.
Now we’re getting another spin-off — Vought Rising. Maybe it’s just me, but I’d rather have one great show with a proper ending than an endless stream of spin-offs. Looking at you, Game of Thrones.
I still remember how awful the ending of Game of Thrones felt back in May 2019. Then The Boys arrived a couple of months later and restored my faith that television could still surprise me.
After Game of Thrones, I promised myself I wouldn’t get too invested in a TV series again.
Then The Boys happened.
Looks like I’m making that promise all over again.
