The show that raised me has come to an end, and although I was initially pleased with the ending, I am now seeking answers.
Maybe I don’t want to let go of my own childhood and that’s why I keep running things over and over in my head, trying to solve these problems and get answers. Maybe I subconsciously can’t let the show die, and maybe I have to keep questioning the ending to keep it living.
Most of my young adulthood held a special place for Stranger Things. Season one aired when I was just thirteen: braces and cringe galore. I won’t get into the details about my current state, but a lot of things have changed since I first laid my eyes on this masterpiece.
But sitting here now, I can’t help but admit that it doesn’t seem fully threaded through after all these years. It’s like I’m sleeping on a pillow missing a thousand stitches; I’m falling, sinking and I can’t get a good night’s sleep.
I mean sure, some might’ve considered my original expectations for season five unachievable, but considering how infatuating seasons three and four were, do you blame me?
Nevertheless, season five, volume one was exactly what I needed getting back into the groove of the show. We were given details on what we’d missed in the characters’ lives since we last visited Hawkins, (four years in our time and one year in the characters’) which I won’t reiterate here, just go watch the show.
Then, we get into the “Stranger Things” I’ve been waiting for: Holly gets violently kidnapped by a “demadog” and taken into the upside down.
Oh, and that abduction scene with Mrs. Wheeler, the wine bottle and the cinematography; it was just marvelous. Then, nearing the end of volume one, I was reminded once again why I’ve always loved this show.
Will has powers. I never saw that coming.
I’ll speak for everyone when I say Noah Schnapp, who plays Will, had my eyes hooked on the scene, breath held and grin growing as he wiped the blood from underneath his nose.
But unfortunately, as most things do, the show went sour and quick. Things started going downhill in volume two. I won’t get into all the details, and there were some great scenes here, but nothing struck me as gold.
The action-packed scene towards the end of the volume with Nancy and Johnathan had me convinced someone was going to die. I mean, what a relief nobody did, but wouldn’t it have had more impact if Johnathan didn’t make it?
This scene, paired with Steve and Dustin’s heightening friendship blowup, had me convinced someone was a goner. Yet, once again, I was wrong.
How do you write a bubbling conflict between two best friends who inevitably dish out harsh things they don’t mean, if you aren’t going to kill one of them off? Don’t get me wrong, I want them alive, but someone should feel some unresolvable guilt. It’s basic story writing.
Dare I mention Will’s coming out scene? Duffer Brothers, we all watched in awe when Robin came out to Steve in season three. You know how to write a coming out scene, so what happened here?
Then we get into the finale. The first half gave exactly what it needed to, so this isn’t my main concern, but why was the final boss battle painfully underwhelming?
Hasn’t the entire show been leading up to this very moment? Not only that, but allow me to mention one small detail: why, after torching the mind flare, which is now on fire and crumpling to the ground, does everyone run inside of it?
Then they stand inside of it killing Vecna and rescuing the children, without conscious urgency, as if it isn’t on fire and a ticking time bomb. On the bright side though, the montage clips of all the characters’ memories flashing while Joyce chops Vecna’s head off, was brilliant. Genuinely brought me to tears.
Another heart wrenching moment, of course, was Eleven’s death.
Personally though, I couldn’t care less about her dying. I mean, throughout these five seasons she’s either been hiding, ‘missing’ or thought to be dead. It feels like she’s died at least once every season.
So, I wasn’t very moved by the idea of it, but the other characters’ performances tore me to pieces. Mike screaming for Eleven will always shake me, not to mention when she visits him in his mind to say goodbye. Prince’s “Purple Rain” will never be the same.
Then we’re given an epilogue to wrap things up. The party celebrates graduation, Hopper proposes to Joyce, Steve’s a baseball coach and the rest are pursuing their careers.
But let’s fast forward to the very last scene, just like how it all began: in the basement with the party playing Dungeons and Dragons. This brings me immense satisfaction. After all, I’m a sucker for being brought right back to the beginning, yet everything’s changed.
It’s their last day home before heading their separate ways; they finish the game and put their playing folders away, all with so much genuine emotion. I was clutching my pillow at this point, trying to stop the pouty lip from making another appearance.
This scene made me realize that this show wasn’t even necessarily my childhood, but entirely the actors.’
They all individually walk up the basement steps and through the door, signaling that their childhood is over. Mike is the last one, standing atop the steps as he watches Holly and her friends start playing, as him and his friends once did.
This symbolizes the original group walking away from their childhood and moving on, while the younger kids enjoy their own. Then, Mike shuts the basement door and the screen goes black.
Excellent ending, or so I first thought.
This, at first and in some moments still, pleases me, but there’s unanswered questions eating away at my satisfaction.
So, Vickie just vanished? Mr. Wheeler is just back on his feet after taking a massive hit from a demadog?
“Getting milkshakes from a general store?” “Getting lost in the woods?”
Most of all, why didn’t anyone die? No, let me rephrase that, how didn’t anyone die? (other than eleven, but she doesn’t count).
There were so many deadly situations throughout the final season, it seems unrealistic that everyone made it out alive. There are a million other questions picking away at my brain, things left unsaid, unresolved and unanswered.
Why were their graduation gowns orange? You’re telling me Hopper is completely moved on from Eleven’s death after spending at least five minutes a volume telling her how much he can’t afford to lose her?
I can only hope that this irking restlessness I’m experiencing was their goal and that the Duffer Brothers didn’t just get lazy. I mean, there have been stranger things, haven’t there?
