In season four of their hit Netflix show, the Duffer Brothers have done it again.
In season four of their hit Netflix show, the Duffer Brothers have done it again.
W hether extremely good (season one) or relatively weak (season three), all four seasons of Stranger Things have served as a love letter to the 1980s, the decade of Blade Runner, Ronald Reagan, shopping malls, Satanic panics, and, to be sure, Kate Bush and Metallica. The nostalgia gloriously permeates every aspect of the show. Indeed, so much of it speaks directly to this 54-year-old that parts of the show simply make my soul ache in memory. I was in seventh grade when Reagan became president and I was a senior in college when the Berlin Wall came down. The 1980s, simply put, were my decade, and I deeply appreciate the trouble the Duffer Brothers have taken to recreate that glorious era. I also grew up in a town (though in Kansas) just a little bigger than the fictional Hawkins, Ind. I was exactly the same age as Nancy Wheeler; I played lots of Dungeons & Dragons; and Bush’s Hounds of Love was in constant rotation on my stereo system, especially during my senior year of high school. Admittedly, I wasn’t into heavy metal, but I did appreciate it, preferring all things college rock and progressive rock, and I never took, smoked, or partook in any form of illicit or illegal drugs. After all, Nancy Reagan had told us to “just say no.” Seemed wise to me. Being raised on Tolkien and Bradbury, I read all the Stephen King I could, and horror was to me the third-finest genre of literature, immediately situated after fantasy and science fiction. I’m only sad that none of the kids in Hawkins seem to have found debate and forensics as a way of life. Then, my nostalgic past would be complete in the Duffers’ fictional universe.
As good and as epic as the series ever gets, season four mostly takes place — with several jaunts into the past as well as into the near and immediate future — over a spring-break week, March 1986. As just mentioned, even with its admittedly few flaws, the season is absolutely epic. From the emergence of Lady Applejack to the unleashing of the Upside Down to the run Max Mayfield takes across a demonic landscape to Eddie Munson’s guitar solo that calls forth a storm of bats to an escape from a Russian gulag, season four is, without a doubt, wonderfully and intensely over the top.
As with all of Stranger Things, season four deals with serious themes, while never losing the humorous elements that make up life. Earlier seasons explored the nature of conspiracy and possession, the nature of ideology and rights, and the struggle of good versus evil, but season four goes to the very source of such things, trying to find a commonality to it all. After all, one might properly ask, why is Hawkins, Ind., the center of so much turmoil and horror? In particular, season four grapples with the nature of friendship and community, the dread results of conformity, the progressive inanities of governments (here and abroad), and the essence of heroism and sacrifice. Granted, many of these themes are standard to all forms of drama and art, but Stranger Things successfully asks these questions again, in a way that speaks truthfully to its audience.
It’s worth looking at these four themes in a bit of detail. First, when season four begins, all of the main characters of the previous seasons are separated, but desperately trying to maintain their friendships and relationships. Lucas and Erica Sinclair, Max, Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and Nancy and Mike Wheeler are in Hawkins, and Jane (Eleven), Will, Jonathan, and Joyce Byers are in California. Murray Bauman is in Indianapolis, and, we quickly find out, Jim Hopper is alive and being held and tortured in a Soviet gulag in western Siberia. The essence of season four might very well be the necessity of these groupings and friendships to come back together. Truly, Stranger Things is about friendship in all of its manifestations.
Second, and deeply related to the first point, friendship can thwart tyranny as well as change the direction of the world. Friendship — animated by love — moves the very wheels of the world. We find this especially in season four with Steve and Nancy (and Jonathan), with Mike and Eleven, with Joyce and Hopper, and with Max and Lucas. Without friendship, bullies (whether they’re at the level of your local demagogue and your high-school clique, or at the level of a nation-state) win. At one point in the first episode, newcomer Eddie Munson, a D&D Dungeon Master and metalhead, decries conformity as the “true monster.” In Stranger Things, friendship leavens, and allows us to become fully ourselves rather than conforming to some inane standard.
Third, Stranger Things has always been critical about the nature of government. Season one, especially, revealed the horrors of scientific progressivism as Dr. Brenner unleashed hell upon Hawkins and upon its children. In season four, we see Brenner’s backstory and his detailed and gross manipulation of children. He sees them not for what they are (as fully human), but as experiments to be used and discarded in utilitarian fashion. He “loves” the children, but in a perverted and abusive fashion. Without spoiling the season, it’s worth noting that our own American government is deeply divided in the show, but, even in its divisions, it is always utilitarian and self-interested, never seeking the common good or defending the natural rights of the human person.
Additionally, Stranger Things shows the true horrors of the Soviet gulag as well. Not since The Killing Fields (1984) has the gulag been shown so brutally on screen. Granted, Stranger Things throws some humor and outrageous action sequences into its scenes of the Soviet gulag, but it remains the deadly and evil prison camp of Solzhenitsyn’s accounts, rivaling anything the Nazis had created. (On the nature of Stranger Things and ideology, I would especially recommend Dylan Pahman’s piece at Acton.)
Finally, fourth, especially through the characters of Steve, Max, and Eddie, Stranger Things season four explores the nature of true heroism and its necessary connection to sacrifice. I’ll keep this review spoiler-free, but let me state that these three characters, especially, reveal the best of human nature and do so in a romantic but also realistic fashion.
None of this, however, should suggest that season four is without its flaws. In ways not always so subtle (especially in contrast with the show as a whole, which can deal with sublime themes very artfully, as just noted), season four awkwardly places questions of sexuality and identity before its audience. These moments come across as forced and seem rather jarring, taking the watcher away from the full immersion the show demands. Additionally, the character of Jonathan — so powerful in seasons one and two as the steady big brother — is essentially wasted in season four, as he’s become, for all intents and purposes, a rather boring stoner. Yet, these really are minor quibbles. Most of Stranger Things is excellent, and there’s no reason to allow these flaws to overshadow the overall greatness of the show.
With season four, the Duffer Brothers have proven, yet again, how a series can tell a story so differently than can a single movie. That is, they have figured out exactly how to make art out of the relatively new medium of streaming. Their efforts successfully reveal so many possibilities in the world of cinema. I’m already very much looking forward to returning, yet again, to Hawkins.
