Customer Reviews

The Boys Vol. 1: The Name of the Game

5 star:		(25)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(6)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

With The Boys Garth Ennis is doing what he loves best: violently satirizing a traditional and well loved concept, in this case superheroes. For those readers and comic fans not in the know, The Boys was cancelled after issue #6 by DC's Wildstorm imprint in January of 2006 because (it is speculated) it portrays superheroes in a negative light, especially the Justice League and other DC superteams like the Titans. I understand this completely, since the two superteams we see in this first trade paperback contain amalgams of DC characters (The Homelander based on Superman, Black Noir based on Batman, Queen Maeve on Wonderwoman, etc.) and all are either alcoholics or sexual predators, definitely NOT in character with DC's "top three." That being said, I thank whatever higher power there is that Dynamite Entertainment picked up the publishing rights, and as of this writing The Boys #7 & 8 are already on the shelves. Incredibly violent and sexually shocking, The Boys takes a hit at supers in a big way, showing the reader how corrupt and irresponsible these beings might be, since they possess god-like power and therefore see themselves as more than human. Humans are their playthings, and when things get out of hand, the CIA calls in their own special black ops team to deal with the problem: The Boys. Consisting of an insane frenchman, a psychopathic asian girl, a hulking African American man, a newly recruited scotsman based on director Simon Pegg (Shaun of the Dead), and the meanest backstabbing sociopath with a bulldog ever, this team operates on the periphery of society and keeps the supes in line. Often resorting to blackmail and assasination, the Boys keep pace with the supes thanks to Compound V, or Blue, a drug that serves as a genetic modifier that was invented by Germans in WWII. This explains all the superpowers out there, since the current 'heroes' are the offspring of the first generation of supermen and women. In the first three issues we see Billy Butcher (the sociopath with the dog, described as the single most dangerous individual ever encountered by the CIA) going after Wee Hughie as a new recruit, while the last three issues deal with their first assignment. Hughie recently lost his girlfriend horrifically due to the actions of the speedster A-Train (based on the Flash) of the Seven, the world's elite superteam. Ennis also gives us an inside view of what goes on behind the superhero facade when Starlight, an innocent young Christian supergirl, joins the Seven and discovers their true natures the hard way. Thanks to the brillliant art of Darick Robertson (Transmetropolitan) and the twisted mind of Ennis The Boys is chock full of laugh-out-loud dialogue, action and bloody encounters as well as shocking sexual imagery. Not for people with delicate sensibilities, but for those who loved Ennis' Preacher and Punisher MAX series, strap yourself in for an unforgettable ride with The Boys. You won't regret it.

It's no secret that legendary Preacher creator and Punisher scribe Garth Ennis loathes the way superheroes dominate the comics medium, and with his new ongoing series The Boys, Ennis strikes back. This first TPB of The Boys revolves around Billy Butcher; a man with a vendetta against said superheroes who organizes a group of mentally shattered and slightly insane people who have all have been negatively impacted by the wreckless actions of the heroes who are supposedly here to protect and serve normal humans. Among them is new recruit Wee Hughie (modeled after Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz star Simon Pegg), whose girlfriend was caught in the crossfire of a speedster hero's pursuit of a villain. What really makes The Boys stand out is Ennis' sick satire of a Justice League and Teen Titans-esque super teams who The Boys have run-in's with, the former of which have their sights set on Butcher and his plans, and vice versa. Darick Robertson, who worked with Ennis on his Marvel books Fury and Born, provides excellent artwork as usual; but it's Ennis' scathing, hilarious, and incredibly vulgar take on super heroes that really makes The Boys a force to be reckoned with. All in all, if you're an Ennis fan or just like seeing the super hero community get what they deserve, you should definitely make an appointment with The Boys.

Modern stories demythologizing long-underwear sooper-heros have been around for a while... "Marvelman," "The Watchmen," DC's Vertigo imprint, and more recently "Powers" and Marvel's "Ultimates" timeline. But few books have approached the topic with such sheer venom as Garth Ennis's "The Boys," in which a mysterious, steroidal hardcase named Billy Butcher assembles an anti-supergroup whose aim is to take the stuffing out of the supergroups that have run rampant over the world. Butcher gets government backing, and puts his Scooby gang together, then sets his sights on some relative small fry: a teen supergroup filled with sex-crazed ultra-brat packers called the Kix. Ennis has a parallel plotline involving an, a-list elite superhero group called The Seven, who are this world's version of the Justice League or the Avengers -- and they are equally crass and unlikeable, and by the end of this first book, we're ready to see them get taken down a few pegs. Looks like Butcher and his headstompers are just the folks to do it. The characters are generally pretty thinly portrayed (which I often find true in Ennis's work) but the plot and the mood are compelling. It's a fun, though rather dark-toned, grisly book, with themes that may seem familiar to folks who have read Ennis, Alan Moore, et. al., over the years. I'm looking forward to Book Two. (ReadThatAgain)

It should be noted from the outset that a reader's appreciation--or lack thereof--of Garth Ennis's work will directly impact their enjoyment of The Boys. Those familiar with the author will expect, perhaps even relish, the detours into gross-out humor and disgusting gags, the confrontation of sexual taboos, and the predilections of fetish (and never in subtle ways), heartily rounded out with foul language and bloody violence. If you are a fan of Ennis, you should have absolutely no trouble enjoying The Boys. If you are not, then you are not likely to find much comfort within the pages of this opening chapter of his ongoing anti-superhero series, which is a shame.

Ennis is quite clearly uninterested in the superficiality of the superhero genre and its one-sided notions of good versus evil, and this series allows him to take the concept of secret identities further in The Boys than typical cape-and-tights stories dare (or care) to tread. The superpowered heroes--or supes, for short--presented here are narcissistic, deranged freaks who are usually just as bad, if not worse, than the villains they stop. Their secrets lurk far deeper, and are far darker, than a mere alter ego. Their actions have consequences and repercussions that are often overlooked by society at large because of the celebrity culture they inhabit, and because the very nature of their existence can threaten to destabilize the status quo.

That's where The Boys come in. A CIA-funded squad of mortals led by Butcher, the team's primary goal is to keep the superhero community in check, to make sure they know they are being watched. Through blackmail and violence, the Boys seek to put an end to the supposed superiority of the supes, particularly the organization known as The Seven, a Justice League-type conglomeration of heroes with their fair share of secrets and vices.

One point of contention for genre fans may stem from the fact that many of the supes in this book are obvious caricatures of established heroes like Superman and the Justice League; in fact, no mainstream comic book character is safe from Ennis's pointed commentary. Prior to finding a home with Dynamite Entertainment, the six issues collected within this volume were originally published under DC's Wildstorm imprint. The series was canceled quickly, after DC became uncomfortable with the deeply nihilistic viewpoint Ennis was leveling against the superhero genre, particularly some of their central, iconic figures. Thankfully, DC's cancellation left Ennis free to continue the story by setting up shop with another publisher.

In introducing Butcher, his team, and their antagonists, Ennis establishes an alternate world where the Twin Towers still stand, and although New York does bear signs of a devastating attack, this world's version of 9/11 is a mystery. He also raises many questions about Butcher's past, his relationship with The Seven, the history of The Boys, and the political and business dynamics that run beneath it all.

Although the book is rife with all of Ennis's trademarks, there is, of course, a deeper meaning at work, a strict method to the man's madness. He is taking nearly a century's worth of comic-book misogyny and sexism, the traditional boys-club staple of superhero tales, and crafting a nastily dark and gritty revenge tale that promises to evolve into an important work of fiction. The women in The Boys are traumatized, used, and brutalized, their innocence savagely lost, sometimes in shocking fashion, and each of them are forever damaged. The men around them, both good and bad, are instruments of harsh violence, separated only by the context of morality.

Complementing the story are cocreator Darick Robertson's terrific illustrations. As he did in Transmetropolitan, Robertson manages to capture and build a vibrant, living world. His panels have a depth to them that constantly indicates the life of New York. His backgrounds are rich with graffiti strewn across buildings that have obviously seen better days, populated with the appropriate class of people. The physicality imbued upon the characters read you in on their personality instantly--the sardonic, sometimes cruel smile spread across Butcher's face clearly extends into the depth of his eyes, as does the smug superiority built into the posture and gait of the male members of The Seven. You can see the pain and horror in those who suffer loss, and the emotional damage etched into them. His pencil work gives the spark of life to the book's scripts, preventing the work from tumbling too deeply down into the dark muck.

The Boys is not a book for the politically correct crowd, or for those easily offended. Ennis and Robertson are carefully building a real-world take on the genre in which they can examine the facets of masculinity, sexism, and violence. Their opening gambit is a terrific introduction that lays the groundwork for a larger story, presenting several pieces of briefly mentioned history and developing relationships that will no doubt be exploited in future volumes. It isn't pretty, but it is a serious work told in oftentimes entertaining fashion. The Boys is very much an adult-oriented book, and those that can overlook, or even embrace, the darker tone of the series will find a challenging, rewarding antidote to the oftentimes-simplistic viewpoints of traditional superpowered-hero books.


-- Michael Hicks

I'm a big fan of Ennis and Robertson's work, and after reading the first two volumes of The Boys I have to say it's not their best stuff.

I think a big problem with Ennis' writing here is that he is still trying to do all of this shocking stuff, but there's just nothing that shocking or even interesting about it. It seems like the whole series is mostly based on "shocking" stuff and it just seems like a really bad idea. Preacher had a lot of that kind of stuff in it, but Preacher also had a lot of things that were genuinely funny, interesting twists, and bizarre dream-like moments. Punisher cut down on goofy shock stuff quite a bit and I felt it worked best when it was kept at a minimum.

I first saw Darick Robertson's work on Ennis' Fury and Punisher: Born books and thought it was amazing, but his work here isn't nearly as good. I remember reading an interview with him before this series started and he said that he was glad he would be inking his own work because he didn't like the way his art looked when he had assigned inkers working on it. But the thing is, is that the inking here is sometimes really bad. I know it might seem weird to complain about inking, but there were a couple of panels in here that looked like they were literally inked in one minute. Also, I think it was in the last two issues of volume two, Robertson drew like the first two or three pages of each issue and then another artist with a more cartoony style took over. But don't get me wrong, there's plenty of great art here, but there's just some things that are kind of disappointing. And don't think I'm knocking Robertson, I know he's just not getting enough time to put the amount of work he wants to into this.

It's definitely not a horrible comic and it's possible that it could get a lot better, but there are better comics out there and I'm not going to keep up with this one.

Finally somebody allows superheroes to bahave in the way we have assumed they would... Cant wait for the next issue

Some say The Boys is strictly for mature readers. More accurately, The Boys is strictly for extremely immature readers, just not kids. You know that in-between age where boys have seen their first pair of boobies in their first dirty magazine? That mean age where snuffing out frogs and anthills with firecrackers and magnifying glasses is the height of hilarity? That disillusioned age where "antihero" may not have entered their vocabulary, but all the same they decided they like Vegeta better than Goku, Wolverine better than Superman, Lobo better than Wolverine? That's the maturity level best-suited to appreciate The Boys.

I rank Garth Ennis' Preacher as a masterpiece of the medium, thus it's disappointing that as years pass, Ennis has become content to lazily snipe at the low-hanging fruit. This series presents the misadventures of a covert team of operatives that police the superhero community, and while Ennis and his fans preen The Boys as a testosterone-fueled polemic with a bold lack of inhibitions, the execution is actually rather like a baby-in-a-microwave joke: a fourteen-year-old kid might be delighted by its "shocking" cruelty and "twisted" humor, but grown-ups just find it stupid in its one-note crudeness.

The Boys sticks to the basic formula one has come to expect of the "British Comics Invasion". We get iconic superheroes depicted as sociopathic sexual deviants. We get a sophomoric straw-manning of the evil conspiracy known as the American government. And we get lots of swearing, bodily-function humor, and exploding flesh, all of which serves as a substitute for compelling storytelling or engaging characters. It's a dusty well that's been drained relentlessly by the likes of Wanted, The Authority, Top 10, The Ultimates, and many derivative works penned by authors who claim to hate the complacency of the supehero genre, but themselves can't seem to defy the inexorable gravity of cranking out yet another by-the-numbers Superman or Batman pastiche.

Perhaps that's the one true insight that The Boys has to offer amidst its unremittingly mean-spirited uglyness: the hypocrasy of it all. For all the hatred that the British Billy Butcher and his crew have for the spandex-donning degenerate yanks of Ennis' lampooniverse, they're every bit as unlikable and deserving of contempt. There's nobody worth rooting for, nothing worthwhile at the heart of all of the nastiness.

If you're still on the fence, if the weight of all the five-star rave reviews are tempting you to doubt my words, then use Look Inside feature to check out the very first line of dialogue in The Boys. It sums up the crass, ugly, and unclever nature of the entire series. Then when you're done, get your hands on Pat Mills' trade paperback, Marshall Law: Fear and Loathing. Based on a comic series published twenty years before The Boys, you'll have a firm grip on exactly how little Ennis' ups the ante.

One final nail in the coffin: 168 pages book does not warrant a hardcover edition.

If it's possible to be standing on the wall with The Boys by Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson...then that's where I'm at.

I have collected all the comics (that this TPB is based on) and as an individual storyline this isn't quite up to par. However, once the entire run of this series is complete and I have a better grasp on the "grand scheme of things" I hope I can change my mind.

The Boys' universe is essentially one where superheroes are as flawed as everyday people (to the extreme) but since they have world-shattering abilities that means that the common person runs a great risk of being killed when a bad decision is made. Enter The Boys who essentially "watch the watchmen" and keep all the heroes in check (sometimes brutally).

On the plus side Ennis has fleshed out the characters of Wee Hughie (our protagonist that we want to root for) and Billy Butcher (our protagonist that is too cocky for his own good). Darick Robertson nails the art perfectly in each issue (chapter). The build up to action scenes is also well paced.

On the negative side, the other members of The Boys are as one dimensional as they come (at least up to this point). The Boys as a whole are so arrogant that it's hard to ever feel concerned that maybe they're in a situation that they cannot handle. And biggest of all is the language, sex, and crudeness of the humor. There are times when Ennis' humor is excellent and adds to stories. However in The Boys more often than not this humor is on display to merely shock us right out of the story (when I think of sophomoric humor this is it).

So again, there's some good and bad but I think The Boys may be building to something good and in today's comic/TPB market it's at least worth checking out. You won't be bored.

I'm a big Alan Moore/Gaiman fan......and I really thought they were head and shoulders above everything else in graphic novels....not so...this was viseral and genius. loved every minute

Any plot summary of The Boys will end up having to concentrate on Ennis' trademark ultra-violence and over-the-top characters and situations. The friend who summarized it for me - and eventually gave it to me - made it sound like a funny book for people with sick senses of humor.

Yes, senses - because Ennis involves all the senses and emotions in this book. A plot summary has to lose the writing craft that has gone into this book - which ultimately redeems it from the being a splatterfest into being a satirical send-up of superheroes - and perhaps a more realistic look into what a world with them would be like.

Like Ennis' other work, it is violent, it is over-the-top, but like his other work, it's ultimately *good*.