The first word that comes to mind after watching the first part of Stranger Things Season Five is “help.” Please, help me. I did not sign up for this horror movie. I was convinced the series would restore its former glory, bringing back the innocent ’80s vibe of the first season, when the threat was a monster that might not even exist and the solution was to slam a door or dream up some makeshift ’80s trick. I was very wrong.
Season Four had already crossed into the dark side, and viewers loved it. Loved it so much they waited three years and clung to every hint that the show might be “a bit lighter.” But then the Duffer Brothers gave interviews and listed their inspirations for the new season: The Cell, a psychological thriller as far as possible from a Jennifer Lopez–Vince Vaughn comedy; Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men; and Home Alone. There’s a small nod to Macaulay Culkin, but the tone draws heavily from the bleakest, most suffocating works they mentioned. From the celebratory ’80s energy of the first season, the show has shifted to “let’s take every dark childhood movie and stretch it until it becomes hell.”
The technical work is excellent. The drama is well constructed, the visuals are terrific and the cassette tapes that pop up now and then spark old memories. The actors do their part, even as they age on camera. But the dialogue can be exhausting, spelling out what you just saw with your own eyes — not because it’s necessary, but because Netflix assumes you’re on your phone at that very moment. It feels like a friend who already watched the show is whispering spoilers in real time. It’s a feature Netflix needs to drop, but it’s already become part of its DNA, like the opening “tudum.” And good jokes, a little humor amid all this frightening drama? Hard to catch between gunshots.
If in the first season you wanted to pack up and move to Hawkins to be part of the gang, by Season Five it’s become a military base fighting for your soul. The monsters now have consciousness, backstories, trauma, philosophy — all in service of asking whether even evil deserves a hug. Great. You showed us. We get it. Thanks.
Every so often, an ’80s hit plays and reminds you where it all started and what’s been lost along the way. The show wants to be “important,” perhaps to say something about the Trump era, or about embracing conspiracy theories without a second thought, and about the collapse of trust in government institutions that ultimately tears society apart. Fine. But it comes at the viewers’ expense, in pursuit of a couple more awards and excited tweets praising its “bravery.” Maybe it will manage to rile someone up online and make some noise. The imagery is so predictable that even the angriest users on X won’t be annoyed.
Stranger Things will end as a completely different show. Some will say it’s deeper, more mature. To me, it simply chose the easy route. It’s easier to create apocalyptic drama with monsters, bloody memories and heavy messages than to make the fun action-comedy that once defined the series — the feel-good TV it used to be. Thanks for the early seasons; I’ll watch the final chapters, but with far lower expectations.
