The third season of

The Boys

(Amazon Prime Video) continues with the bet made by the comic of the same name in which it is inspired, but it increases the stake almost to the point of órdago.

That is to say, in this universe of mediatic and mediatized superheroes, the

good guys

- who are no longer the protagonists - are still those who oppose them and try to stop their collateral damage.

Or, at least, to remember that the dilemma of the train changes a lot if the driver is a coke egomaniac who is going to make the decision to crush a family or a school based solely on the ratings.

But what makes this series one of the best in recent years is its absolute commitment to itself, which is also

an ode to chaos and painting criticism with a broad brush and a jar of viscera

.

If

The Boys

were taken seriously, it would be one of the many.

Luckily, she laughs at herself first and her viewers third.

Second, from the same industry that gives it life.

And from Marvel, of course.

Fuck Marvel.

All these instruments are orchestrated with harmony and success, but without airs.

It's not classical music, it's punk.

And punk, beyond music or aesthetics, is attitude.

It doesn't matter if Cojo Manteca listened to Mocedades instead of Eskorbuto, because the

punkra

spirit emanated from his studs when he hit street furniture with his crutch.

Even a chihuahua has this rebelliousness if he prefers to urinate on the electric scooters than in the pits.

The journey since the first season has been peculiar, because, to continue with the musical parallelism, instead of settling down and going for the easy and known, he has looked for more powerful bass lines, more scandalous riffs and the drums must already be on the triple pedal to hit the bass drum.

Taller, faster and stronger

, but in an Olympics where Greco-Roman wrestling was literally kicking some sort of Nazi Captain Marvel.

Season three turns up the volume and the dial has long since passed 11.

This, of course, would not work if the actors were not able to transmit and get into not only their roles, but this general role.

The spirit and attitude, go.

And yes, they are all tremendous: from a

Giancarlo Esposito

doing what already seems to be Giancarlo Esposito, to an imperial

Colby Minifie

from her secondary role at a level that not even Vallejo clearing balls against City.

Anyway, a special mention must be made to

Karl Urban and Antony Starr

.

The first, with that beard and that jacket that smell of musk, tobacco and bad whiskey from the living room and a look between gross and insane that stays in the pit of the stomach.

The second, in his role as the philo-

fascist Superman

, has a magnetism that is dangerous even if he brings the credit card close to the screen, because it is charged.

There are no Emmys in the world to reward his work and it would not matter, because they are not giving them to him.

But it does not matter.

Because that's what punk is about.

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