I’ve lived my life (mostly) trying to be the Toxic Avenger.
It’s the movie that literally jump-started my ascent into consciousness. But it did more than launch my love of body horror and bad ’80s vibes. As a kid with undiagnosed autism, I always felt other-ed with no proper explanation of my isolation/disconnect. But Toxie told us we could take those freakish differences and turn them into strength, and that we act like monsters because no one else is brave enough.
So when Matt Bors and Fred Harper launched The Toxic Avenger in late 2024, it felt like my story with Toxie had all-new life. Those first three issues were generally great, setting up a novel take on Toxic Avenger’s story that emphasized a fresh spin on Marvin (more underdog than outright loser); an update on the socio-political subtext (turns out the “Trump Years” are rich for satirization); and the same bloody wonderful mutant madness and general violent delights.
Courtesy of AHOY Comics.
Admittedly, it wasn’t a perfect story — issue #2 really highlighted the narrow zone of success for satirizing Gen Z and Alpha Bros — but certainly this was a solid new chapter for the Toxic Avenger. Because even with some of those “concerns,” The Toxic Avenger was alive with big ideas and perspectives on a property that remained on so many others’ peripheries.
But there’s yet another wrinkle to my lifelong story with Toxie. I left AIPT temporarily this year before finishing the final two reviews, and while that’s not at all relevant to anyone else, it was enough of a personal blow. Not only do I hate not finishing things, but having gotten to a place where I’d dealt with my own autism to a degree, I wanted to see if this Toxic Avenger’s own rejuvenation was truly worthwhile.
Now, with Toxie’s future looking bright (that includes the long-awaited film as well as an ongoing series for July and other comics-centric developments), it’s the perfect time to revisit the series via the recently-released first volume. It’s a proper chance to wrap up the series, find a little closure, and perhaps understand Toxie as a hero in 2025.
And I’d say my devotion to Toxic Avenger remains a generally vital thing.
This Toxic Avenger wouldn’t be what it is without the work of Harper (and colorist Lee Loughridge). From the very start, the artwork set the scene — like a bad trip take of your childhood Archie comics, Harper and Loughridge nailed the filth, loneliness, and absurdity of Tromaville. Their monster design work was just as effective; the lumpier, more comical spin on Toxie himself was a way to define this book’s sense of humor and gentler (but never less probing) approach to dissecting themes of modernity gone awry.
It was a book that felt sharp and sticky to the touch and yet wholly undeniable, a universe where the absurdity and dirt of our own world had been amplified to a degree where such vivid transparency was soothing and disarming. As much as it was an all-new sheen for Toxic Avenger, it was very much in line with the Troma films and their ability to cut to the core of social violence and yuppie greed (again, the comic has a little more nuance and texture).
Courtesy of AHOY Comics.
But with issue #4 and #5, it felt like the art made something of a turn. As Toxie and friends trudged deeper through the mystery of the alien bugs, things seemed to fully coalesce. It wasn’t so much a pivot — rather, the more we saw of this new Tromaville, the more its own sense of identity seemed to solidify and the more its true depth and power emerged. Major Disaster is a great example: the normally hokey master of plants felt almost Swamp Thing-esque in execution, a creature who found great beauty among the filth of a sewer. That visual majesty and unwavering honesty gave this series a power that felt all its own.
Not everything elevated — Toxie’s continued depiction always felt goofy even as it made increasing sense thematically — but the book at-large gave off a radioactive glow toward the end that made it feel more singular than ever and more focused on further crafting an identity reflective of its unique position in time and space. A style that, while consistent enough across all five issues, really extended upward toward the end to become something in our mind where nostalgia didn’t dominate but augment; ugliness had ample charm; and the truly beautiful parts of the world were still rich with context and worldly value.
If the “pivot” from the art was a welcome feature, it was something I struggled with in terms of the overarching narrative. As mentioned already, this Toxic Avenger maintained a robust level of satire — whereas the film was all about lampooning ‘80s shit-heels, this series focuses on ideas of toxic masculinity, the angel and devil of social media, #MeToo, and man’s growing, self-perpetuated social de-evolution. And while tonally there were issues there — Bors’ brand of satire can sometimes be hard to suss out regarding the joke versus the joker in a way that’s a smidge too hyper-intellectual — the update was quite refreshing.
Courtesy of AHOY Comics.
The world of 2025 is pretty bonkers on a few levels, and having the team tackle these ideas with integrity, grace, and intensity was the way to cut toward the truth in an era where we’ve supposedly transcended such “hokey” ideas/values. The only real downside I see that wasn’t more effectively addressed is this story’s environmental angle. Yes, it’s a disaster that facilitates Melvin’s transformation, but the cynicism and disconnect of this world means the destruction of the world was often regarded as just another problem for our Gen Z heroes and not the thing that drives so much of the tension and emotional toxicity in the Toxie story.
But for my experience, the series’ latter half focused less on those big ticket ideas and moved on to seemingly bigger goals. Toxie is meant to be a hero for this town, this lumbering, mop-swinging paladin who rights deep-seated wrongs with force. He’s our violent avatar in a world where the biggest problems simply need their bureaucracy and crappy social norms wrung out for the sake of justice and decency. But this Toxie feels a little feckless at times and especially dependent on his friends.
Is that inherently a bad thing? No, because it lets others step up. Yvonne, the book’s mostly blind, potential love interest, has some great placement as a force for on-the-ground honesty in Toxie’s world. And the same goes for Major Disaster — he’s much less of a support character and someone aligned with the spiritual mission of Toxic Avenger (while facilitating more of the environmentally-savvy aspects of this larger franchise). At the same time, that reduced focus on Toxie doesn’t establish him as a force when he needed it most.
Courtesy of AHOY Comics.
Again, Toxie’s whole M.O. is to be a representative in a world we wish we could beat into being better. For him to be more of a team player — someone who relies on community and not mere brute force — neuters some of Toxic Avenger and its power as this story of an ugly, overbearing hero operating in ugly, overbearing times. It’s also the thing where some of the satire feels tenuous — without that physically-affective hero, the poking of modern-day stereotypes (gym dudes, pointless self-awareness divorced from action, etc.) doesn’t achieve that “hell yeah” quota to truly sell everything.
And, to a significant enough extent, I get why this became more team-centric (even more so than Toxic Crusaders, where Toxie was Brian Wilson in a stacked roster of Beach Boys). It’s because, once more as mentioned, Toxie’s story is set to continue. So, really, this is just a nice prequel of sorts (it’s even seemingly painted like that in some of the language of recent announcements), in a move that I both support and also can’t reconcile with entirely.
Because if this is just a “teaser,” the scope and angles of this story make sense — it’s the start of a new universe and one where we’ll have plenty more real, sustained chances to see Toxie become the hero many of us hold him as in our hearts. (It might also explain why they made the kinds of “edits” to Toxie’s origin if they’re trying to foster a connection before blasting off to a sludgy future.) At the same time, part of this makes some of this story feel a touch invalid. For one, it undercuts this story’s barbed satire of capitalism just a smidgen if it’s an “excuse” to sell more books (again, books that are only tangentially related to this one).
Courtesy of AHOY Comics.
Even if that’s not the case (which, as even I can admit, I’d need to Kaio-ken my innate cynicism to truly accept that notion), this story could have been reshaped into a tight three issues if it were intended as a “preview.” Because it was those first three issues that I found myself fully clicking with Toxic Avenger, and the last two issues may have been enjoyable and valid, but they certainly over-extend the alien bug story in the name of extra fight scenes and more mostly satisfying world-building. But my “problems” with issues #4-5 are really about something else entirely — how our hero is ultimately regarded.
If you grew up with Toxie as some kind of role model and/or beloved friend, this book pokes holes in that relationship right away. It’s not the same hero — they struggle with the same ideas of social disconnect and other-ing, but their tools (aside from a mop) and culturally-inspired objectives are different. Whereas the OG Toxie could bash his way to success, this new Toxie lives in a different world where such an approach is half-cocked at best. Sure, these worlds share the same sheen of grossness and absurdity, but our world is both more ridiculous and also more tragic.
It’s no longer a world where the lone freak can make a difference with just a good heart and bulbous biceps. No, he needs friends and context and a deep, meaningful connection to the world. Only through that can he have any chance of making a mark and fixing a world that’s as dumb and gross as ever but practically screaming for measure and nuance to right the scales. In that way, our revitalized Toxie is positioned to be a great hero for the here and now — someone who has the punk rock fire, spiritual toughness, and reliance on the world over a mere mop to become a true hero. Even the positioning of our two Melvins (the OG’s a hated loser, and the other’s a romantic outcast) set up markedly different experiences.
A recent Toxie team-up with AHOY’s Jesus Christ. Courtesy of AHOY Comics.
Marvin’s not at all limited by some overly PC sheen in 2025. Nor is he subject to the endless enshitification of modern life. Rather, he’s a figure who strikes a balance between the perverse and the thoughtful, the earnest and the insane to really make a difference. He is, folks, a true rebel badass in age where the coolest thing you can do is to care deeply and have the courage to hope.
So, no, he ain’t my hero — he’s everyone’s hero. And while that’s a tough pill to swallow, it’s something I admire deeply about this series. It doesn’t make any of my complaints less valid or insignificant, but instead contextualizes them in a way that aligns this series toward its mostly bright future. That the old world is over, and things may seem morally/spiritually dire, but the fight ain’t quite over. Instead, you just have to gather your friends, toss on your best tutu, and get ready to fight people in their hearts and minds (as well as sometimes upside their heads).
Time will tell what awaits Toxie and the gang, but at least for this opening salvo (as it were), I feel pretty good about wanting to be just like our slimy savior.
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