Any piece of art, and particularly a piece of media, with heavy themes of and explicit ties to nostalgia has the capacity to affect us emotionally. Especially in times as turbulent and aggravating as these, it’s comforting to reminisce through art that emphatically harkens back to a simpler, seemingly more innocent time, whether through the connection to a popular brand or the depiction of certain atmosphere and environment -the former being essentially the driving force in Hollywood right now. But what I think is unique about Netflix’s Stranger Things is how it appeals to a nostalgic sensibility completely separate from the other two despite relying heavily on both as well. I didn’t grow up in the 80’s, but I relate more to the nostalgia of Stranger Things than to just about any other piece of media that tries to scratch at that sweet spot.
Granted, as much as 80’s kids would argue to the contrary, growing up in the mid-80s wasn’t all that different from growing up in the 90’s and 2000’s. Season two’s Halloween episode for instance, resonated incredibly authentically to my experience trick-or-treating circa 2002. But also, there are just universal experiences of childhood (at least universal to straight white North American kids in middle class suburbia) that don’t belong to any time period, and that I would argue is a big reason why Stranger Things is so popular with audiences who didn’t experience Reaganomics, Cold War fatigue, and the blockbuster boom first-hand.
Stranger Things 3 continued to profit off of this clever use of nostalgia throughout its eight episode run and it was fun, but something was different. it wasn’t until the finale that it finally came together for me. This season dealt a lot with change and vulnerability and finding ones’ own agency. Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) finally gets to break free and express herself individualistically, divorced from the influence of Jim Hopper (David Harbour) or Mike (Finn Wolfhard), and assert her heroism on her own terms. Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo) has to adjust to his friends not always sharing in his interests and endeavours, and finding new people who do. Robin (Maya Hawke) opens up to Steve (Joe Keery) in a deeply personal and (for the 80’s) potentially dangerous way. And Will (Noah Schnapp) has to contend with his friends, all preoccupied by relationships and other distractions seemingly leaving him behind, no longer having the patience or passion for D&D that remains his source of escape.
One of my disappointments with this season was that it underutilized Will (and really all of the Byers family for that matter), after having been such an instrumental part of the first two seasons. While I appreciate after all he’s been through, the Duffer Brothers gave him a break from being the conduit to the Upside Down’s horrors, there was more to touch on with regard to his relationship to his group of friends now. Aside from his failed attempt to bond with Mike and Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin), followed by a possible outing of his character and his destruction of Castle Byers -the most heartbreaking scene of the season before the finale -all in one episode, Will was mostly prioritized for his Upside Down “spidey sense”.
But then came the final episode, and in spite of how shakily set up it was, the Byers moving from Hawkins with a once more orphaned Eleven in tow hit like a ton of bricks. With the same sincerity and boldness, but with a more potent honesty than the ending of Ralph Breaks the Internet, Stranger Things took on the emotional minefield of moving away, and executed it with pure, bittersweet deftness. And it just about moved me to tears. When I was their age, I was definitely the Will of my group of friends. Like Will, I clung to certain pastimes after my peers were outgrowing them, and like Will, I moved away when I was fourteen having to leave those ties behind. Of course even Stranger Things is likely not to delve into the brutal honesties of this situation it ends the season on. Even no further than Chicago from Indiana, I fell out of touch with my early teen friends, and that’s not going to happen when Stranger Things 4 is certainly going to reunite the gang. But in addition to making me think back on that time in my life, my regrets and emotions, it made me realize this season of Stranger Things was ultimately about the end of childhood.
Hopper says as much in his posthumous heart-to-heart with Eleven, beautifully articulating how futile it would be to try and recapture the familiar trappings of childhood, as much as one may want to, and the importance of moving forward and facing all the new challenges, discoveries, hardships, and joys the future yields. Will may take it the hardest, endearingly attached as he is to the fondest memories of his friendships, but everyone is made to confront these changes. Eleven and Max (Sadie Sink) both suffer personal loss by the end of this season, in the case of the latter a really dramatic personal loss. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are all in relationships; where two years ago they were still averse to notions of romance, now Mike and Dustin have to deal with the emotional fallout of being separated from their girlfriends. Nancy (Natalia Dyer), Jonathan (Charlie Heaton), and Steve now out of school, have to literally navigate an adult world they may not be equipped for. Everyone, even Joyce (Winona Ryder) is leaving something of themselves behind this season; everyone is beginning a new journey full of enlightenment, adventure, hope, but also sadness and hurt -which as Hopper points out, are feelings worth treasuring and remembering as much as the good ones. I remember that stage of adolescence, its pleasures and pains alike, and it’s the nostalgia I’ll look for in Stranger Things 4.
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