Spinoffs represent a foundational pillar propping up American television history, from The Jeffersons to The Walking Dead: Darryl Dixon, Mork & Mindy to Better Call Saul. Sometimes, they’re a unique subversion of the original property, but other times, they’re a cheap replication of what already exists. In an era of franchise exhaustion and repackaged studio products, the term “spinoff” is becoming a dirtier word with audiences, but two of the year’s best shows prove there’s nothing wrong with the formula. Prime Video’s Gen V and Hulu’s Shoresy are brilliant breakaways from their parent shows, demonstrating how spinoffs can benefit studios and audiences in their quest for entertainment domination.
On paper, Gen V feels like a cash-grab to give The Boys fans another electric-blue hit of darkly comedic superhero debauchery. Prime Video announced that Gen V’s first season would directly roll into The Boys Season 4, making it required watching—which can be seen as a cheap tactic to manufacture viewership. Instead, showrunner Michele Fazekas uses the opportunity to flesh out themes found in The Boys on a more granular scale. Godolkin University breeds deeper conversations about Compound V usage without consent, as super-powered students face the harsh realities of their forced-upon fates. It’s more hopeful than The Boys, and thrives without relying on cameos or callbacks to Butcher’s or Homelander’s bloody, diabolical antics.
In 2022, Letterkenny’s Wayne, Jared Keeso, shipped his foul-mouthed hockey lifer Shore (aka “Shoresy”) to Sudbury for his own self-titled spinoff. Only appearing faceless from behind (as to hide the fact that this character was also played by the star of the show), Shoresy’s status on Letterkenny was as nothing more than a vehicle for vulgar chirps about double-wheeling Reilly and Jonesy’s mothers. The question last year before Season 1 was simple: how can a rude and raunchy sidepiece become a focal protagonist? A year later, now with two seasons tucked away, that answer seems even simpler: development. Keeso treats Shoresy as an upside-down sports comedy with women and First Nations characters at the forefront, constantly skewering the athletic machismo that once made Shore’s zingers so memorable in Letterkenny.
Gen V and Shoresy excel as reinventions of their inspirations. Gen V follows young adults who haven’t yet been thoroughly corrupted by Vought or forever absorbed into Homelander’s #SupeLivesMatter agenda. Where Butcher and Homelander are willing to burn the entire world down for their causes, Jaz Sinclair’s hemokinetic Marie Moreau and her classmates fight for something brighter than the cynicism that The Boys emboldens. While there are glancing blows of heartbreak in The Boys, like when Erin Moriarty’s Starlight recalls her younger years as a pageant supe, Gen V tugs these dangling threads and unravels something miles more insidious. Fazekas and her writers attempt to show how the kids might be alright despite living in a world that wants them dead for countless reasons, but refuses to ignore the angsty teenage drama of growing up a supe without any choice.
Shoresy’s second season develops a complicated man who, at one time, could have been described as the most off-putting character in Letterkenny. He’s no longer splitting time between Reilly and Jonesy’s houses; he’s adorably chasing the love of his life like a giddy high schooler. Shoresy’s quips aren’t missiles fired at his teammates; he’s the dedicated captain who will do whatever it takes to motivate everyone toward a win. The Shore of Letterkenny is a caricature of misogynistic player cultures where Shoresy permits actual male ego dissections, expressive commentaries about “win at all costs” obsessions, and everything that comes along with the freedom of a spinoff. While audiences may expect a carbon copy of the original series in its offshoot, Shoresy never falters when pointedly separating itself from the original series; showrunners should strive to deliver the unexpected like Keeso.
At the heart of both shows is a desire to be different. The hallmarks of the original series are still there (because you can’t entirely turn your back on existing audiences), but there’s a fearlessness in the bold choices made to separate these shows from their predecessors. Fazekas was issued no guarantee that The Boys fans would enthusiastically support a collegiate story that veers more toward resonating with Gen Z audiences; Keeso had no idea whether Letterkenny fans would take to a far more sports-driven template that takes cues from Slap Shot, Major League, and the works. That doesn’t stop either from testing their fanbase with the allure of different storytelling perspectives. Neither series rewrites what came before beyond recognition, but clearly and successfully steers away from mirror imagery that would just accelerate feelings of market over-saturation.
But even in spite of the push to deliver something different from the series that came before, there is still an appropriate amount of crossover to cling to. Gen V hits the heights of the unprecedentedly horny “Herogasm” episode of The Boys during its three-episode premiere; Shoresy establishes silly bits just like in Letterkenny, whether it be panini shop wordplay or the Sudbury players’ affinity for ice cream drumsticks. As much as Gen V and Shoresy abstain from paint-by-numbers mimicry, they still play the hits. Gen V is as stupendously violent and conspiratorially driven as The Boys, while Shoresy still proves Keeso is one of the better television writers handling female characters and dismantling gender tropes in today’s scene. The trust has been earned and we’re still rewarded for our loyalty, as fresh storytelling refuses to completely ignore its acclaimed origins.
Despite having the edge of a previously-established audience built-in, the odds weren’t totally stacked in these series’ favors, as sequel, reboot, cinematic universe, and spinoff fatigue have begun to plague audiences everywhere. Defying expectations, Gen V shoulders all the weight of ramping excitement for The Boys Season 4 while telling a “standalone” story with rich payoffs, new recruits, and archetypal narratives that don’t require a cliffhanger’s duration to appreciate—not to mention how this series had to battle the tossed-around notion of superhero fatigue. Shoresy is hellbent on making you fall in love with a championship-focused hothead who, episode by episode, dares to eradicate preconceptions bred by Letterkenny. And for both of these shows, breaking out in an already oversaturated streaming landscape is an uphill battle in itself, but their popularity with audiences proves that these series eclipse the often negative connotations of spinoffs and sequels, dynamically evolving the original world while expanding it in new and exciting ways.
In today’s television era, where producers are searching for expanded universes faster than ever before, Gen V and Shoresy are shining examples of how to execute a spinoff. Everyone involved invests in building out a multidimensional, hit-you-from-all-sides offshoot instead of merely expanding to fulfill immediate-yet-possibly-fleeting demands. Existing molds don’t stifle creative teams. They’re asked to reinterpret a vibe and produce something new that can live up to its predecessor. In both cases, it’s a smash-hit exercise that trusts individual voices, promotes originality, and proves how spinoffs are just as important of a television staple as brand-new titles destined for their own spinoffs—a cycle we should not fear in proper hands.
Matt Donato is a Los Angeles-based film critic currently published on SlashFilm, Fangoria, Bloody Disgusting, and anywhere else he’s allowed to spread the gospel of Demon Wind. He is also a member of the Hollywood Critics Association. Definitely don’t feed him after midnight.
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