You probably remember the 2003 film. It’s hard to forget Sean Connery’s final performance, even if most people wish it happened in a better movie. But if that CGI-heavy blockbuster is your only touchpoint for The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, you’re missing the actual point of the whole project.
Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill didn't set out to create a 19th-century Avengers. Honestly, the comic is a dense, often mean-spirited, and incredibly brilliant deconstruction of Victorian literature. It’s a world where every single fictional character ever created exists in the same timeline. And they mostly hate each other.
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is basically a literary fever dream
When Alan Moore first started writing the series under the America's Best Comics imprint in 1999, he wasn't looking for a hit. He was looking for a way to tie the disparate threads of British pulp fiction into a cohesive, if messy, tapestry.
The premise is deceptively simple: Campion Bond (ancestor to James) recruits a group of "extraordinary" individuals to protect the Empire. But these aren't heroes. Mina Murray, the survivor of Dracula’s assault, is the leader. She’s competent, scarred, and far more interesting than the men around her. Then there’s Allan Quatermain—who is a drug addict past his prime when we first meet him. Captain Nemo is a science-pirate who hates the British. The Invisible Man is a straight-up rapist and sociopath. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are a tragic, terrifying mess of body horror.
This isn't a team. It's a collection of monsters used by a government that is equally monstrous.
The comic succeeds because it treats the source material with a weird mix of reverence and mockery. Moore knows his H. Rider Haggard and his H.G. Wells inside out. He uses their specific prose styles and thematic obsessions to build a world that feels "lived in" by ghosts of books we had to read in high school.
Why the 2003 Movie failed the source material so hard
It's sort of a legendary disaster in Hollywood history. Stephen Norrington, the director who had just come off the massive success of Blade, clashed so hard with Sean Connery that Connery literally retired from acting afterward.
👉 See also: Questions From Black Card Revoked: The Culture Test That Might Just Get You Roasted
The movie sanitized everything. It added Tom Sawyer as a "U.S. Secret Service" agent just to appeal to American audiences. It turned Mina Murray into a vampire—which she explicitly is NOT in the comics—to make her "cool." It traded the deep, layered world-building of the books for a plot about a guy named "The Fantom" trying to start a world war with a giant submarine in Venice.
The CGI was rough even for 2003. The script was a mess. But the biggest sin was losing the grit. The comic is about the end of an era. It’s about the death of the romanticized 19th century and the birth of the cold, industrial 20th. The movie was just a generic action flick.
Digging deeper into the "Mooreverse" references
If you read The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with a search engine open, you’ll find something new on every page. Moore and O’Neill packed the backgrounds with references.
- In the first volume, the League travels to "The British Museum" which houses artifacts from every fictional adventure imaginable.
- The second volume is essentially a retelling of The War of the Worlds, but from the perspective of the League.
- They don't just fight Martians; they deal with the fallout of a world that realizes it's not alone.
Later volumes, like Black Dossier and Century, get even weirder. They move through the 1950s, the 1960s, and eventually into the 2010s. Moore starts pulling in references to James Bond (who is portrayed as a misogynistic hack), Harry Potter (who is portrayed as an Antichrist-figure), and Mary Poppins (who is... well, God).
It’s dense. It’s difficult. Some people find the later volumes almost unreadable because the meta-commentary on the death of fiction becomes so heavy-handed.
But Kevin O’Neill’s art keeps it grounded. His thin, scratchy lines and incredible detail work make the Victorian era look both beautiful and filthy. There is no one else who could have drawn this series. His death in 2022 truly marked the end of an era for this specific brand of British comic mastery.
✨ Don't miss: The Reality of Sex Movies From Africa: Censorship, Nollywood, and the Digital Underground
The legal nightmare of fictional characters
You’ve probably wondered how they get away with using all these characters.
Public Domain.
Basically, once a character is old enough, anyone can use them. Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, the Invisible Man—they’re all fair game. Moore exploited this perfectly. However, as the series moved into the 20th century, he had to get creative. Characters like James Bond are still under copyright, so he’s referred to as "Jimmy" or just "Bond" without the full trademarked name.
This creates a "spot the reference" game for the reader. It’s rewarding for people who love literature, but it’s also a bit of a barrier to entry. You sort of have to be a nerd to get the full experience.
Is it actually worth reading today?
Yes. Absolutely. But with caveats.
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen isn't "comfort food" reading. It’s provocative. It features scenes that are intentionally upsetting because Moore wanted to show that these Victorian characters weren't "gentlemen" in the modern sense. They were products of an imperialist, sexist, and often brutal time.
🔗 Read more: Alfonso Cuarón: Why the Harry Potter 3 Director Changed the Wizarding World Forever
If you can get past the shock value, you find a story about how we use stories. It’s a meta-narrative about how the characters we invent reflect our own cultural anxieties. In the 1890s, we were scared of science and "the other." In the 2010s, we are scared of the emptiness of modern pop culture.
How to actually enjoy the series without getting lost
Don't try to understand every reference on your first pass. It's impossible. Just follow the main plot of the first two volumes. They are the most accessible and arguably the best.
- Start with Volume 1. It’s a tight, well-paced heist story.
- Move to Volume 2. It’s the Martian invasion. It’s epic.
- Read the annotations. There are several websites dedicated to explaining every single background character in the panels. It will blow your mind how much detail is there.
- Avoid the movie (unless you want a laugh). It's a fascinatng relic of early 2000s filmmaking, but it’s not League.
The lasting legacy of Alan Moore’s Victorian Avengers
While the movie bombed and the comic eventually got so weird it alienated some fans, the influence is everywhere. Shows like Penny Dreadful owe a massive debt to Moore’s work. The idea of the "shared universe" that dominates the MCU today was being explored here in a much more cynical and intellectual way decades ago.
Moore eventually "retired" from comics, and he’s been vocal about his distaste for how his works are adapted. He famously refused any money or credit for the film version. Watching the film today, you can kind of see why. He wasn't just writing a team-up; he was writing a eulogy for the imagination.
The real The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is a masterpiece of world-building. It’s a reminder that stories don't exist in a vacuum. They bleed into each other. They influence how we see the world. And sometimes, they need to be taken apart to see how they work.
If you want to dive into this world, skip the streaming services. Go to a comic shop or a library. Find the collected editions. Look at the "back matter" (the fake newspapers and travelogues Moore wrote to fill out the world). It’s a deeper, darker, and more rewarding experience than any two-hour movie could ever provide.
Go find a copy of Volume 1. Pay attention to the background of the shops in London. Look at the names on the posters. You’ll realize that you’re not just reading a comic; you’re exploring a library where the books have come to life, and they’ve brought their baggage with them.
The next step for any fan is to look into the Nemo Trilogy spin-offs. They follow Nemo’s daughter, Janni Dakkar, through the mid-20th century. It’s some of O’Neill’s best art and a bit more of a focused narrative than the sprawling later volumes of the main series. Start there if you want a bridge between the classic Victorian stuff and the modern weirdness.