Conclusion

(SeaPRwire) –   Throughout the past seven years, there have been countless moments when I’ve felt the urge to stop watching The Boys, get off my couch, and never return to it. The fact that I’ve continued is thanks to several factors: I work in superhero media, my partner enjoys the show, and—deep down—I still care about the characters. Prime Video’s satirical take on supes has always had a knack for making both heroes and villains feel human. Whenever I felt myself reaching for the remote, they would offer a compelling emotional moment, pulling me back in. I’d endure the graphic violence, the crude humor, and the blood-soaked scenes because I believed something meaningful—something real—was waiting for me at the end.

But with Season 5, I’m convinced that no humanity remains—or if it does, I simply don’t care anymore. Honestly, I never imagined I’d say this, especially given the season’s introduction of a drug that grants Homelander (Antony Starr), the terrifying stand-in for Superman, true omnipotence, or a virus capable of permanently neutralizing him and every other supe. Still, at this point, Homelander can have immortality; the Boys can unleash a plague that will likely wipe out every supe—and possibly some humans—off the planet. I no longer care what happens to any of them. In fact, I wouldn’t blink an eye if they all disappeared.

It’s not that I’ve suddenly become Butcher-pilled and am rooting for a superhero genocide. Rather, if the creators behind The Boys don’t care about honoring the investment viewers have made, why should I? Over six scattered episodes, showrunner Eric Kripke and his writing team have systematically stripped away everything that once made the series so inventive. Sure, faint traces of emotional depth remain in relationships we’ve followed for years—and even, admittedly, in some of the new dynamics meant to set up the upcoming prequel. That Jensen Ackles’ Soldier Boy is emerging as the de facto star of The Boys ahead of his starring role in Vought Rising isn’t the real issue, because Ackles delivers a fully committed performance. The problem lies in the endless stream of tasteless jokes—from juvenile humor to barely concealed bigotry—that he must deliver with equal seriousness.

Every emotionally resonant moment in The Boys Season 5 is undermined by a sudden reference to sex, pornography, or some character’s hidden kink. For reasons unknown, a number of supes possess powers tied to their genitalia (which, technically, could happen, but after the fifth magical penis, you just have to move on). Even worse, every character is gradually being swallowed by the same nihilistic rhetoric that once made Soldier Boy unique. Take Kimiko (Karen Fukuhara), who was previously a non-verbal victim of exploitation and trafficking—suddenly, she’s obsessed with bukake. Annie (Erin Moriarty) and Hughie (Jack Quaid), who were once the most grounded and relatable couple The Boys had, can no longer connect without making dirty jokes about clouds. They’re nearly unrecognizable, lost in a sea of diarrhea-level gags that now define the show more than anything else.

Week after week, The Boys delivers one instance of character assassination after another. While the individual blows may seem minor (despite the overwhelming force of all those jokes), they collectively devastate the show as a whole. The world of the series has always been corrupt; the characters were meant to represent a flicker of hope, reminding us that some goodness was worth saving. I’m not sure I believe that anymore. It’s not just because everyone’s suddenly making dick jokes or talking about past conquests. That immaturity is a symptom of the deeper rot—of a caricature stretched to absurd heights, almost insulting in its stupidity.

In Season 5, characters act in ways that contradict everything we’ve come to know about them, solely to justify deaths that feel unearned and unnecessary. Others are written out of existence entirely. Capable heroines like Annie and the highly intelligent Sister Sage (Susan Heyward) are rendered completely passive. In Episode 6, each fails at the mission they’ve spent the entire season preparing for. Does it make sense for their characters? Absolutely not—but it gives Kripke and his team enough cover to sideline them without raising too many objections. It’s all a delaying tactic: The Boys has always been about Butcher’s looming confrontation with Homelander, and the ridiculous ways the show is disposing of its supporting cast only highlight that ugly truth. This series promised to burn everything down to reach that grudge match, but a truly scorched-earth approach would be preferable to this.

Whatever integrity The Boys once had has long since been corrupted. It needs to end—or perhaps it already did. Either way, it’s hard to care how it happens now.

The Boys is streaming on Prime Video.