It is an open secret that the political commentary and satire woven into "The Boys" have grown increasingly bold over the years. Far from being a subtle endeavor, the fourth season, in particular, has embraced real-world parallels with unreserved fervor, most notably in its portrayal of Homelander and Donald Trump. By the time "Dirty Business" rolls around, the omnipotent white supremacist at the helm has convinced some of the wealthiest and most evil people in America to participate in the Jan. 6 coup, all with perhaps some on-the-ground help from some of the most radical Fox News (sorry, Vought News) viewers in America.
Your tolerance for such overt borrowing from reality will determine whether this feels like a nuisance due to its in-your-face nature. Yet, regrettably, it remains as pertinent as ever, especially given this week's Supreme Court ruling on presidential immunity from criminal prosecution. ("In every exercise of official power, the president now reigns as a king above the law," lamented Justice Sonia Sotomayor. "With a heavy heart for our democracy, I dissent.")
Putting aside the sorry state of our nation, "Dirty Business" stands as another thoroughly entertaining chapter in "The Boys". It marks a resumption of the season's upward trajectory after an initially fragmented and gloomy opening. Naturally, the theme of torture persists prominently in both main narratives - personally, I could have done with less of Tek Knight and Ashley inflicting trauma upon Hughie. Yet, at least now, all characters feel integral to the unfolding saga.
Hughie has been somewhat marginalized of late, particularly when compared to his prominent roles in the first two seasons. Hence, it's refreshing to see him reclaim a central stage in this episode. A mission to infiltrate Tek Knight's estate during a Federalist Society gala provides Hughie with the perfect outlet to immerse himself in a mission and distraction from the loss of his father. Undercover as Webweaver, Butcher and Mother's Milk's trusted informant who has secured an invitation as a potential new sidekick for Tek, Hughie finds himself in what could arguably be the most revolting scene of an already gross episode. MM administers a roofie rectally to Webweaver, resulting in a gross spurt of white goo shooting out of his "web hole" and splashing onto MM's face. (Typing that made me cringe.)
The comedy in witnessing Hughie adopting Webweaver's slang to impersonate him at the party, his voice croaking out unconvincing "dog"s and "no cap"s from within his pungent suit, is nothing short of solid gold. As MM reveals to The Boys (and to viewers unfamiliar with Gen V), Tek Knight possesses extraordinarily heightened senses, making him an unparalleled lie detector. Yet, despite an almost catastrophic encounter with Victoria Neuman and the Seven, Hughie manages to pull off his charade and plant bugs at the party.
It's when Hughie loses signal deep within the clandestine "Tek Cave" that things start to unravel at an alarming pace. Hughie never bargained for sitting bare-assed on a German chocolate cake while a billionaire chokes and masturbates, nor did he sign up for the tickling torture or humiliation of being urinated on. These scenes are punctuated by effective comedy, such as Hughie's desperate yelps of random words — like "tarantula" — when attempting to guess Webweaver's established safe word. However, the overriding sentiment is one of horror, particularly as the ordeal drags on. Tek's eventualunmasking of Hughie and discovery of the truth brings a semblance of relief, though it does little to diminish the looming threat of sexual violence.
Thankfully, Kimiko and Annie manage to sneak into the mansion, locate the hidden entrance to the Tek Cave, and rescue Hughie just in time, sparing us the harrowing sight of Tek carving new orifices into Hughie's body for his twisted pleasures. With the assistance of Tek's former "sidekick," clad in a red gimp suit, they gain access to Tek's bank accounts, enabling them to extract the truth from him: he and Sage struck a deal to use his private prisons to incarcerate dissenters once she and Homelander executed their sinister plan.
Given the horrors we've witnessed, it would be challenging to stomach Tek Knight walking away unscathed from this episode. Hence, it's satisfying to see his butler (and supposed father figure), Elijah, choke the life out of him upon learning about the camps. This story concludes on a refreshingly emotional note as Hughie begins to process his feelings and opens up to Annie about his harrowing experience. The line "I'm not fine" may be somewhat predictable, but Jack Quaid's choked-up delivery of "I miss my dad" is nothing short of heart-wrenching.
However, the most astonishingly poignant moment of this installment, for me, revolves around A-Train, who dares to defy convention by leaving the revelry to rush MM to the hospital after the latter, in a fit of desperation, shoots Sage in the head and suffers a heart attack—or rather, a panic attack, which aligns perfectly with MM's struggling mindfulness amidst his numerous burdens. Observing a wide-eyed child who bore witness to this act of rescue, A-Train is moved by the awe-inspired smile upon the child's face. Just a handful of episodes prior, we saw this same individual boasting to his nephews about lives he hadn't genuinely saved; now, he is genuinely aiding people, and it brings him genuine satisfaction.
While A-Train is undergoing a transformation, evolving into a better version of himself, scarcely anyone else in this narrative seems inclined to embark on a similar journey. For some time, I have been intrigued by Sage's core beliefs and motivations, so it was heartening to hear her confide in Neuman about the pivotal moment that radicalized her: at the tender age of eleven, she discovered a cure for her grandmother's leukemia, only to be dismissed and ridiculed, ultimately leading to her grandmother's demise. Possessing the potential to solo-solve the world's myriad problems, she harbors no respect for humanity. Thus, even if she shares no camaraderie with these affluent elite, she gleefully empties their pockets and discards them once they've served their purpose.
It once seemed conceivable that Sage harbored a deeper, concealed agenda, potentially even one that might ultimately marginalize Homelander. (Perchance, she still might.) Nevertheless, this soliloquy sheds light on her superiority complex, which stems from a vastly different genesis than Homelander's. Both view humans as creatures deserving of control and subjugation, yet Homelander's mindset is inherently sadistic and disdainful of human life, whereas Sage learned to perceive humans in this manner after years of outsmarting everyone she encountered, yet continually failing to earn their respect.
To Homelander's misfortune, the bullet lodging in Sage's cranium temporarily sidetracks her thoughts, confining them solely to her pending Taco Bell order and the TLC program she intends to binge-watch later. Consequently, she proves to be of little assistance during the exclusive gathering where Homelander jubilantly unveils his rebellious schemes. However, Neuman rises to the occasion, merging her political prowess—capable of navigating the complexities of the Justice Department, military responses, and OPEC, among myriad other practical matters—with a compelling emotional rallying cry. ("The masses are pathetically ignorant," she asserts, contending that billionaires ought not to be fettered by any regulations or restrictions whatsoever.) Neuman has long since traversed the bounds of reason, and last week's unlikely alliance barely made a dent in her resolve. Meanwhile, Butcher has vacillated morally throughout the series, with an angel and a devil perpetually perched on each shoulder. Since the season's onset, his late wife, Becca, has served as his conscience, haunting him in hallucinations. But in "Dirty Business," the truth finally surfaces: Joe Kessler is the embodiment of his inner demon, just as imaginary as Becca. He is a figment conjured by Butcher's brain tumor, manifesting his dark, ruthless nature that brooks no hesitation in achieving its ends, regardless of the cost. When Butcher blacked out and savagely dismantled Ezekiel, it was Kessler who seized control.
For weeks, viewers have speculated about Kessler, and his revelation here—turning on Becca with a snarl, commanding her to silence—is masterfully executed. This occurs in response to Sameer's mind-boggling intel about the virus, placing Butcher in a quandary as the series nears its climax: Is it justifiable to jeopardize the lives of superheroes like Kimiko, Annie, and most crucially, Ryan, merely to eliminate Homelander? According to Kessler, who echoes half of Butcher's psyche, a superhuman pandemic needn't be a regrettable byproduct; it could very well be what the world desperately needs. But once one begins to rationalize genocide, the path back to morality becomes perilously steep and narrow.
