The Impala’s Ghost: How ‘The Boys’ Keeps ‘Supernatural’ Alive in the Most Unexpected Ways
There’s something almost poetic about how The Boys keeps nodding to Supernatural, Eric Kripke’s earlier brainchild. It’s like watching a creator subtly weave his past into his present, not out of nostalgia, but as a quiet assertion of identity. Personally, I think this is what makes these Easter eggs so fascinating—they’re not just fan service; they’re Kripke’s way of saying, “This is where I come from, and it’s part of who I am now.”
Take the latest homage in Season 5, Episode 7. Soldier Boy, played by Jensen Ackles, drops a line about not wanting to fix up an old Impala with his son, Homelander. On the surface, it’s a throwaway comment. But for Supernatural fans, it’s a thunderclap. That Impala—Baby—wasn’t just a car; it was a character, a symbol of brotherhood, and a home on wheels. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Kripke uses it here: not as a flashy cameo, but as a subtle reminder of what The Boys could have been—a show about family, if it weren’t so gleefully twisted.
One thing that immediately stands out is how Kripke layers these references. It’s not just about the Impala; it’s about what the Impala represents. In Supernatural, it was a sanctuary. In The Boys, it’s a rejected ideal. Soldier Boy’s dismissal of the car feels like a meta-commentary on how far Kripke has come—from a show about saving people to one about the people who need saving the most. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just a callback; it’s a statement about evolution, both in storytelling and in life.
What many people don’t realize is how deeply these references are tied to Kripke’s broader themes. The Impala’s cameo in Season 2, for instance, wasn’t just a visual gag. It was a cartoon of the car running over someone, reflecting society’s desire for justice against Stormfront. This raises a deeper question: Why an Impala? Because it’s not just any car—it’s the car that killed Hitler in Supernatural. And Soldier Boy, a Captain America parody, is essentially a superhero defined by his anti-Nazi stance. It’s all connected, but not in a way that feels forced. It’s Kripke playing with his own mythology, layering meanings like a master storyteller.
From my perspective, what this really suggests is that Kripke isn’t just recycling old ideas—he’s repurposing them. The Impala isn’t just a car; it’s a symbol of what we leave behind and what we carry with us. In The Boys, it’s a ghost, a reminder of a simpler time in Kripke’s career. But it’s also a challenge: Can we ever truly escape our past, or do we just find new ways to integrate it?
A detail that I find especially interesting is how these references are never heavy-handed. The Impala in Season 2 was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. The dialogue in Season 5 is even more subtle. Kripke isn’t shouting, “Look what I did!” He’s whispering, “Remember this?” It’s a testament to his confidence as a creator. He doesn’t need to spell it out because he trusts his audience to connect the dots.
But here’s where it gets really intriguing: What does this say about the future of The Boys? If Kripke is still weaving Supernatural into his work, does that mean he’s not done exploring those themes? Or is he using them as a foundation to build something darker, more complex? Personally, I think it’s the latter. The Boys isn’t just a deconstruction of superheroes; it’s a deconstruction of the ideals we hold onto, even when they’re broken. And the Impala, in all its subtle glory, is a perfect symbol for that.
In the end, these Easter eggs aren’t just for fans—they’re for Kripke himself. They’re his way of saying, “I haven’t forgotten where I started, but look how far I’ve come.” And that, to me, is what makes The Boys so compelling. It’s not just a show; it’s a conversation between a creator and his past, played out in the most unexpected ways.
So, the next time you watch The Boys, keep an ear out for those whispers. They’re not just callbacks—they’re Kripke’s way of reminding us that even in the darkest stories, there’s always a piece of something familiar. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what keeps us coming back.
