TV Database INVINCIBLE (2021)

It’s probably never not a nightmare to write a season premiere. First episodes of a new season often feel like a narrative balancing act—trying to reestablish the characters’ status quo, reset the emotional chessboard, and still offer a hint of what’s coming without blowing the whole plot wide open. Invincible doesn’t escape that trap, but it at least stumbles into it with purpose.

“You’re Not Laughing Now” is a solid enough start—nothing earth-shattering, but it gets the gears turning again. We’re back with our bruised and blood-soaked teen demigod, Mark Grayson, now knee-deep in training for the inevitable Viltrumite conflict barreling toward Earth. He’s stronger, faster, and still emotionally navigating everything with the precision of a toddler trying to defuse a bomb using a juice box. Idealism is great, but Mark’s is dipped in concrete.

That purity is on full display in both his romantic and professional relationships, and predictably, it’s not going well. His interactions with Eve? Yeah... that’s the kind of young adult fumbling that makes you want to fast-forward out of secondhand embarrassment. The man means well, but bless him, he’s got all the subtlety of a flaming billboard. If there’s one takeaway here, it’s that maybe, just maybe, there’s a better way to bring up uncomfortable truths than bulldozing straight into “hey, remember that deeply uncomfortable thing I probably shouldn’t mention?” An adult would have known better by taking on the responsibility of living with your tainted conscience if it means not hurting someone, but Mark's no adult.

Same vibe with his boss, Cecil Stedman, a man who looks like he hasn’t slept since the Reagan administration. This episode leans into their ethical tension, and ironically, it reminded me of something like Full Metal Daemon Muramasa—a story that utterly condemns the idea of noble killing for the greater good, which made it all the more hilarious that I found myself siding with Cecil here. He is walking that fine line between Nick Fury’s pragmatism and Amanda Waller’s ruthless efficiency, and unlike Waller, you get the sense that he hates every awful thing he does. Not enough to stop doing it, but enough to grimace politely afterward. Which, hey, in this universe? That’s practically humanitarian.

I get where Mark’s coming from—his trauma runs deeper than most swimming pools—but at some point, the kid’s gotta realize that not every compromise is a betrayal. Sometimes it’s the only move left on the board. If anything, this episode makes a good case for Mark needing to zoom out a bit. Not every moral dilemma has a clean solution, and trying to slap a black-and-white worldview on a blood-red canvas isn’t going to end well.

We also get some wholesome (and slightly ominous) Oliver Grayson moments. The kid’s growing fast—like, suspiciously fast—and it’s clear he’s inherited both the power and the enthusiasm that made early-season-one Mark so endearing. It’s cute. It’s light. It’s also got a countdown timer on it because this is Invincible, and we all know nobody stays untouched by the meat grinder of consequence forever. That wide-eyed Tim Drake energy? Better enjoy it before the disillusionment arc kicks in like the way Bruce Timm kicked Tim's face in with the Joker.

On the action front, things are… competent. The fights are serviceable, but there’s a noticeable lack of the kinetic chaos that made earlier seasons feel so visceral. A few sequences feel stiff, maybe even underbaked. The brutality’s still there—blood flies, bones crunch—but some of the snap, the weight behind the hits, is missing. Still, even at a lower throttle, Invincible handles combat better than most animated shows. It just might be time for the animators to get a raise or some caffeine.

There are a few dangling threads teased throughout the episode—classic Invincible setup: cosmic tensions, shady figures in the background, fractured partnerships waiting to implode. And yes, a familiar duo in the background makes a small reappearance, offering some levity amidst the angst (thanks, Seth Rogen’s voice). No spoilers here, but it’s enough to remind you that there’s still a galaxy of hurt—and humor—on the horizon.

Bottom line: It’s a functional premiere. Nothing groundbreaking, but it keeps the emotional arcs alive, drops enough plot breadcrumbs, and plants a few intriguing seeds. The action could’ve hit harder, the animation felt a bit stiffer than usual, and some of the pacing leaned on the “As you know, Bob…” side. But overall? Not a bad kickoff. A slow burn with promise—just don’t expect fireworks. Yet.

“We can be the good guys. Or we can be the guys that saved the world. We can't be both.”

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I’d like to think I’ve mellowed over the years—at least enough to accept that being right doesn’t give you carte blanche to bulldoze over someone else’s perspective. That’s supposed to be how democracies work. But what this episode explores—masterfully, I might add—is what happens when the stakes get so high that compromise starts looking like cowardice, and authoritarian “solutions” start sounding… practical.

And yeah, I am dragging my beloved “Full Metal Daemon Muramasa” into this again. Because once more, it’s relevant. That story’s relentless dissection of moral absolutism and justified violence fits perfectly alongside this episode’s focus on what it really means to kill “for the righteous cause.” There's a moment—chilling in its casualness—where a character openly wonders why someone isn’t just killed to eliminate the problem. It’s a disturbingly childlike logic, and exactly the kind of thinking that slides us from civilization into the abyss.

I do believe that rehabilitation for criminals is essential, even if I have my threshold for how much that concept is entertained, a line in the sand. This episode shows why some of the Guardians of the Globe (still a hilariously derivative name) might sympathize with Cecil’s methods—not because they condone them, but because they, too, are trying to make peace with past mistakes. As I noted in my review of the season premiere, when you're staring down the barrel of Viltrumite power, niceties are a luxury. Even Iron Man had a Hulkbuster.

What really elevates the episode, though, is its look backward. We finally get a flashback peeling back the layers on Cecil—the Nick Fury of the nihilistic multiverse. We see a younger, more idealistic version of him who isn’t that far off from where Mark is now, and watching him evolve—or erode—into the cold tactician of today is both fascinating and gut-wrenching. It's the kind of character study that shows you how a rational person might be pushed to consider more pragmatic solutions in the face of such unstoppable threats that no mortal man could handle.

That said, Cecil in the present-day definitely crosses into full Civil War Tony Stark territory—Mark Millar, not the Russos—less "visionary futurist" and more "man with a God complex and a syringe full of control issues." Without spoiling anything, let’s just say certain decisions he makes concerning Mark involve a total disregard for things like consent and bodily autonomy. And sure, I get it—Mark could turn him into paste before finishing a sentence, and yes, he’s been veering into punch-first, ask-later territory lately. But Cecil’s preventative measures aren’t safety nets—they’re landmines with a smug warning label that says “for your own good.” That's how fascist regime starts: benevolent dictatorships.

What’s smart is that the episode doesn’t pretend it’s a simple matter of right and wrong. You may understand Cecil. You might even agree with him in theory. But that doesn’t mean you trust him. And when heroes are treated less like people and more like unpredictable weapons that need failsafes, can you blame them for jumping ship? That mistrust isn’t just emotional—it’s justified. Such opposition keeps moral boundaries in check, because as the old saying goes, "Who watches the Watchmen?"

Thankfully, amidst all this moral chaos, we get a few much-needed breathers—namely Mark and Eve. Their dynamic offers a grounded counterweight to the philosophical brawling, and for once, Mark handles things like a grown-up. It's a small win, but it signals maturity in his thinking—something he desperately needs right now.

Overall, this episode is a massive step up from the season opener. It dives into tough, uncomfortable questions without hand-holding or cheap moralizing. Granted, some of the dialogue leans into sermon-mode and could stand to trust the audience a little more—but those moments are rare enough not to sink the ship.

This is Invincible doing what it does best: punching through faces and ideologies alike. Bloody, smart, uncomfortable, and unrelenting—it’s the show reminding us that being a hero is hard, being right is harder, and surviving your own ideals? Damn near impossible.