The Boys is classic Garth Ennis, and that's this new title's greatest selling point and its greatest liability. Like many of his other works (such as Preacher), this title is about keeping the arrogant establishment in check, about nasty people doing nasty things for the right reasons. If I was reading The Boys 10 years ago, I'd be blown away, shocked and entertained by the writer's in-your-face sendup of the super-hero genre and collection of oddball characters. But this is 2006, and we've seen this sort of thing from this writer and this publisher so many times before, it just doesn't come off as all that fresh. Still, some strong line art and a powerfully poignant depiction of grief and disbelief help to sustain my interest. The Boys doesn't disappoint, per se, but the familiarity does a bit.
Imagine a world full of super-heroes, with more superhuman champions and characters filling the skies each and every day. It sounds like a world of wonder, a place for peace and justice. But it's also a world in which regular people are trampled like ants, where collateral damage is routine and low body counts are something to celebrate. It's just a matter of time before the super-heroes and villains see everyday people as disposable, lowly creatures. There need to be checks and balances, and once upon a time, an elite team of mercenaries known as the Boys kept the supers in line. The time has come once again for the Boys to organize and do what they do best.
Robertson brings an impressive level of realism to bear here, demonstrating not only a subtle evolution in his work but a recognition of an important need for balance in the book. Ennis's script is, for the most part, typically over the top, but Robertson's more realistic look and genuine facial expressions bring credibility and common ground to the book. It's easy to relate to some of the characters and believe in them because they look like us or people we know. The colors seem a bit off, though. It's as though Avina is trying to using bright, garish colors and darker, muted tones at the same time, making for a conflicted, muddied look.
Ennis's greatest contribution to the book -- and an important focus in the plot -- is the character of "Wee" Hughie Campbell. He's the everyman of the story, the regular guy who gets caught up in insanity he never chose. Hughie's connection with Robin is utterly convincing, and the tragedy that befalls the couple immediately gets the reader on the Butcher's (and Ennis's) side.
Where the script falls short is just how predictably the characters behave. Butcher is an utter bastard who's smarter and tougher than anyone who's ever walked the earth. He's impossibly perfect, impossibly scary and impossibly detestable. The antagonism between him and his government contact comes off as cliched as well. His goofy, seemingly stunned and stupid dog makes for a sharp contrast, but it's a one-note joke that falls flat after a couple of appearances. I'll still check out the next issue of the series based on the strength of the Hughie character and the art alone, but I wonder if The Boys is a comic book whose time has come and gone. 6/10
