Stranger Things 5: An Irredeemable Failure | A Full Breakdown

Just a heads up, this is going to be an incredibly long read. If you're still with me, I commend you.

INTRODUCTION

A very common cliché in TV shows is beginning with a high tension sequence. Usually this is undeserved, as they skipped the buildup, and therefore have no payoff for the climax. It essentially serves as a quick shot of energy to capture the viewer's intrigue. In this case, however, the entirety of Stranger Things season four was spent building up to one extreme climax. In my mind, it was a given that season five would start out with pandemonium. So you can imagine my disappointment when they cut to eighteen months later in the cold open. You spent all of that time building and building, and then you… It’s the same issue I had with The Exorcist. Every time something terrifying was about to happen, they cut away. They throw away the tension. It’d be as if a musical coda was replaced by a single chord. Jarring. Takes you out of it.

With the rise of short-form content, and the fall of attention, storytellers are less incentivized to produce creative, well-thought-out stories. Most of today’s biggest hits cater to the lowest common denominator of viewership. As such, they’re accessible to people of all ages. But that doesn’t mean this is a good thing. This widespread accessibility only exists when you break every standard of storytelling. Show, don’t tell? Might as well cut to the chase and spoon-feed the audience. What is logic and reason? Just introduce more plot devices without wrapping up the previous loose ends. If the audience is confused, that means we’re smart. Pacing? Can’t go too slow or they’ll get bored. Add another CGI goo goo. That’ll do it. Even with kids shows, why spend the effort making something you’re proud of—something even adults can enjoy—when you can easily flash a bunch of bright colors and capitalize on it? It’s just as stimulating, if not more.

But anyway, I’m not entirely cynical about the show. I consider season one to be a marvel. It’s so wonderfully put together, because the creators had a story to tell, and something to prove. They didn’t have a cult-like following. They didn’t have momentum to ride on. They didn’t have a grandiose budget to oversaturate every moment with CGI. The initial season had to rely on mystery, atmosphere, writing, pacing, acting, and character development. They didn’t have to stretch out their story with emotionally saturated conversations that served no driving force in the storyline. Why? Because they had plenty of legitimate content, so filler would be most unwelcome. This was back when they dished out individual pieces of the puzzle, and trusted the viewer to regulate their own attention. How many times did you see the Demogorgon before the final episode? Not many. That’s how you build suspense. Leave gaps in the puzzle for the viewers to fill in with their imagination. It’s not always about what you show. Sometimes, it’s about what you don’t. 

As some (many) shows progress, the writing deteriorates, because the writers already have a fan base. They no longer have something to prove. They have momentum to coast on. Their egos break free. They get lazy. They get sloppy. All the positive reinforcement infiltrates their mind. They surround themselves with yes-men and discard checks and balances. And then it devolves. 

ILLUSORY STAKES

This last season, Stranger Things tried too hard to introduce too much. They had plenty of content to start with, and then they bit off more than they could chew. Every season, they feel the need to raise the stakes, and rightly so. Unfortunately, the way they produce conflict is not maintainable, which has become increasingly evident. You can only amplify the stakes so much before it goes completely off the rails and no longer bears any meaning. The first season, as I mentioned, was superb. But as the show goes on, it gradually starts to lose its footing in reality, devolving into a carnival. Fun, but not necessarily good in any objective sense. The way they raise the stakes feels artificially manufactured, rather than a natural byproduct of the story’s unfolding.

“If you destroy it, you will die. We will die. Holly will die. Everyone will die.” That’s a quote from Dustin, right before nothing of consequence happens. Sure, Steve’s car shoots out into the void, but somehow Eleven and her ragtag crew are unscathed. Things are flying all over the place, but they simply walk away. Now let’s move on to Vecna. The previous season ended with him finally collecting his four souls, which allows him to bridge the gap between the two worlds. He’s finally ready to destroy the world. Oh, never mind, there’s a phase two to his plan. He’s gotta kidnap a dozen kids. But he’s getting more and more powerful with every soul he takes. Oh, never mind, he just got defeated in five minutes. And that’s it? Oh that’s it. Count every time he says “it’s time.” It apparently wasn’t time. 

At least they established the Mind Flayer as the mastermind and manipulator. Now we’ll get to uhh… No, there’s a giant spider for some reason. And they just… That’s it…? Huh, that’s it. I figured Will would have more physical involvement, given that Vecna has been terrorizing him for years. There’s still half an episode left? Oh, okay. Now we’re watching some Ferris Buellerian High School Musical graduation ceremony, with a clichéd speech about the school being terrible and self-expression or something. That’s definitely worth cutting the central conflict short for. Yes, this is Dustin’s homage to Eddie, but that’s no excuse for a poor execution by the writers.

I’m not sure how Dustin achieved this level of academic prowess while simultaneously grieving Eddie’s loss, but I appreciate the fact that he never shows his math; you just have to trust his mental calculus. Not unlike the central idea conveyed by this sentence, the concepts introduced throughout this season are intentionally clouded by—and ensconced in—self-satisfying, pseudo-intellectual mumbo jumbo. The writers seem to suffer from narrative pyromania; they love setting fires, but keep letting them fizzle out rather than deliberately extinguishing them. We’ll talk more about the writing later, but for now, why not up the ante and explore raising stakes? Let’s compare and contrast similar media.

EX. STAKES, DONE POORLY - DIE HARD FRANCHISE

The first Die Hard movie was excellent. And then the franchise fell into the trap that so many do. They capitalized on the success and tried to extract every ounce of milk from their cash cow (ever seen the second Lion King? Me neither). In doing so, they attempt to raise the stakes each movie, so as to not repeat themselves. Which is fine. Unfortunately though, they try to raise the stakes so much that it becomes essentially meaningless. The first movie takes place on a few floors of a skyscraper. Having a high-tension situation bottled in a small area like this gives it so much more weight. The second movie takes place in an airport. The third movie takes place in New York City. The fourth movie takes place in New Hampshire. The fifth movie takes place in Moscow. I think you get the idea. For this type of movie, the bigger the area, the more room there is for the tension to bounce around and fade away. And as such, the most recent Die Hard is critically reviled. Stranger Things fell into the same trap, introducing more dimensions and concepts thinking that enlarging the playing field is the same as heightening the stakes.

EX. STAKES, DONE WELL - BREAKING BAD

Breaking Bad is the only show I’ve seen that manages to have every season outperform the previous. Not because they artificially induce insane situations, but because these scenarios follow the naturally paced character development. Every character is precisely defined with such depth. Walter's development—in particular—is so fluid, that this perpetually heightening sense of tension not only feels reasonable, but warranted. The further to an extreme he goes, the more he has to lose. And the show demonstrates time after time that these stakes are real. Most shows put incredible emphasis on the plot, and fail to flesh out characters beyond the surface level. Characters are intended to be catalysts for conflict, not the other way around.

SUBVERTED MORTALITY

This section ties into the illusory stakes. One of my biggest issues with this season is that these grim predicaments with infinitesimal odds of survival somehow always find a way to work out. Happy endings for everyone. The characters just trot into battle without even acknowledging the fact that there’s a pretty good possibility they could all die. It’s as if they know they’re protected by plot armor. It got to the point where anytime a character was faced with imminent death, I wasn’t even concerned. I just knew they’d be fine.

The only (relatively) significant deaths in this season—Eight & Eleven—were both premeditated. Eight was just being proactive, getting herself killed more efficiently. Eleven’s death felt greatly diminished by the fact that the government plotline was so incredibly outlandish. Brenner’s harassment in season one was perfectly in place. With a test subject escaping from a secret government facility, they needed to track her down without attracting suspicion. But now, she has a birth certificate. She’s gone to school. She has friends and family. She’s established in the world, and they’re still dragging this on. Her sacrifice felt ultimately meaningless.

Regardless, I was ready to give the writing room props for finally making a decision that wasn’t affected by cowardice. And then they backpedaled, introducing the idea that she could be off living her best life in Iceland or something. They finally did something that I would consider bold, and they immediately stuttered, so as to not upset anybody.

EMOTIONAL SATURATION

This season was eerily reminiscent of a CW show, as far as dialogue goes. It took me back to watching The Flash, where every five minutes, they would be having an emotional hallway conversation about how Barry isn’t fast enough to save everyone. Even with all the extra nonsense they decided to add, they still didn’t have enough substance to fill up this whole season. They had to include filler conversations that didn’t contribute much at all.

TELL, DON’T SHOW

“Show, don’t tell” is a proven narrative technique, and it has been heavily underutilized in this season. If I have to sit through one more scene of them explaining an idea or concept with physical objects like I’m an iPad baby, I’m gonna combust. Will’s speech—which I discuss in a separate section—falls into this category as well.

HIVE-MIND DIALOGUE

The once 3D characters have all been reduced to 2D pawns whose primary function is to react to synthetically generated chaos. All of the individuality of the previous seasons has been discarded, such as Steve’s endearing cluelessness, Max’s fire, Joyce’s unbreakable will, & Dustin’s levity. And they all join together into one agglomerative consciousness. The only noticeable signs of personal distinction seemed to be uncharacteristic, such as the forced rivalry between Jonathan and Steve. It’s as if the screenwriters were simply writing words, without any particular character in mind. Although the dialogue (and—I’m sure—direction) was awful, there’s also the issue of the actors not understanding their characters on an intimate level.

APATHETIC PERFORMANCE

Most of the lines this season were just being read. They were delivered with complete indifference, as if the cast were already mentally checked out, and just going through the motions. People love to praise mediocrity with this show. I’ve seen quite a few people acclaim Nell Fisher in her role as Holly. While I will say that her performance exceeded that of the main cast, it was a pretty low bar to surpass. Nell’s acting was solid. A bit exaggerated, but very good for a kid. The original cast, on the other hand, offered pretty uninspired performances. It seemed like Winona Ryder and David Harbour gave up completely and barely managed a perfunctory performance. They’re great actors, but it did not seem like they gave a damn. To be fair, they were not given too much to work with.

CURTAIN CALL INCLUSION

You don’t need to include every single character. Especially when you’re actively adding to the cast. Eight was brought back after eight years just to get killed. Mr. Clarke and Robin’s girlfriend only added clutter to the ensemble. In the first season, there were about ten people in the know, and everything was extremely confidential. Now everyone and their mother is joining in on the fun, and the government can’t be bothered to care.

WILL’S LOOMING SELF-ACCEPTANCE & WAVERING EPIPHANY

Will’s dramatic coming out would have been more impactful if it was a quiet recognition, and acceptance of his true self. He gathers all his friends and family, and anxiously informs them that he’s gay. He then follows this revelation by submissively asking if they’ll still accept him. Right there, that’s him craving external validation, clouding the idea of self-acceptance. In my opinion, Will’s tonal shift of becoming the “Sorcerer” should have been black and white, akin to Neo in the Matrix. He recalls everything he’s been through, and all the wisdom that’s been passed down to him, and as a result, he becomes fearless. He knows who he is, and he knows what he’s capable of. That part was great. Unfortunately though, they have him waver in his newfound understanding, falling back into the idea that Vecna only chose him because he was susceptible. But, oh never mind, ten minutes later, he's back to being Will the Wise. 

CATERING TO CARELESSNESS

Thank God they back every statement up with a flashback sequence. I almost used my brain again. This engineered oversimplification for broader audiences only serves to disregard those who engaged deeply with previous seasons. To be honest, I think the last four episodes would have made more sense if I’d never seen the show before. “Everything we’ve ever assumed about the Upside Down has been dead wrong.” Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad you switched it up at the eleventh hour.

POOR UTILIZATION OF TALENT

Ironically, among the multitudinous performance issues, they had incredible actors sitting idle. Winona Ryder & David Harbour are the two actors that I would argue gave the best performances in the first season. Joyce was a strong-willed mother who wouldn't take no for an answer. Everyone told her she was crazy, but she knew better. Hopper was a speculative cop who still put in his due diligence. His persistence was the reason for most of the progress. But as the show starts to rely more and more on theatrics, acting ability is no longer a commodity. And what was Joyce’s purpose in the finale? She had no reason to follow everybody into Vecna’s home. She was just kinda there. Just to stay in the script. I genuinely forgot Joyce’s name just now and had to look it up. That’s how obsolete her character has become. And Hopper isn’t too much better. He was just pressing buttons half the time.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER VERSUS EMBRACING TRAGEDY

The writers seem to have gotten caught up trying to appease everybody at once, which is impossible. It is absolutely absurd for the entire cast to make it out completely unscathed. It would have been more impactful if they leaned into the theme of tragedy and helplessness. Sure, they’ll still emerge victorious in the end. But it’ll cost something.

Let’s talk about stakes again. The core of this issue was demonstrated in the second episode, which opens with the Demogorgon abducting Holly. By lacerating both Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, but leaving them alive, the showrunners inadvertently revealed something. They showed that they are unwilling, or at least incredibly hesitant, to part with any characters. This is something they already shed light on by resurrecting Max, and leaving her in a liminal state. After the Wheeler parents were brutally attacked, I assumed they were dead. And I thought that was a great way to start off the season. It shows they mean business. It establishes stakes. It shows that no one is safe. It shows that the adversaries are powerful and ruthless. And when I found out they survived, it meant the opposite, because the writers are setting a tone for the rest of the season that essentially says, “there is nothing at stake here.” And that is a disappointing message.

MEANINGFUL LOSS & SACRIFICE

In order to create genuine, powerful stakes, I will detail what I believe to be the most effective way to convey necessary loss. To start, they should have ended the first episode with Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler dying in an attempt to protect Holly. Yes, the Demogorgon’s goal was to abduct Holly, but it has never accepted violence without killing the attacker. It’s unrealistic to expect this now. Next, if they were to follow through with that “Nancy shooting the bubble” thing, they need to formalize the threat. They can do this by allowing a character to be pulled out into the abyss. I volunteer Eight, since her death was pointless anyway. Then Eleven and Hopper would have to struggle to survive. 

Next up, we have Lucas. Every time these Demo-dogs storm a building, I feel nothing, because once again, they’ve established that there’s nothing at stake. Unlike in season 2, when they were actually terrifying. And they ended up killing Bob. That was suspenseful. You could tell something was going to happen. So back to the present, Lucas should have died protecting Max’s unconscious body in the hospital, in a Romeo and Juliet-esque turn of events. This tragedy would align very well with Max’s song, which explicitly states, “If I only could, I’d make a deal with God, and I’d get him to swap our places.” With this sacrifice, their places are swapped. Max will come to and have to learn about Lucas’ death. And I think her grief would be more powerful than their reunion was. 

The next to die is Steve. Steve has been incredibly selfish this whole season. It reached its peak when he told Dustin that Eddie died for nothing, and that he was just trying to be a hero. After Dustin admits that he’s terrified of losing his best friend, that would be Steve’s moment for self-reflection. He could think about how selfish he’s been. The fact that he was upset because Dustin was becoming distant, the fact that he was trying to steal Nancy from Jonathan, etc. His behavior was all very juvenile, and I assumed he would come to this realization when he’s presented with a trolley problem: him or Dustin. And he would finally understand that Eddie didn’t just want to be a hero. He was facing his fears, and putting down his life for others. 

Anywho, the next to die, and hear me out…All twelve of Vecna’s apostles. In the previous season, he needed four souls to bridge the gap. This is the same concept, so you can’t cherry pick death. This would be the only time this season Vecna would say, “it’s time,” with it being actually meaningful. The arrangement in that episode inversely mirrored that of the last supper, which makes perfect sense, given the idea of the upside down. Vecna, sitting with his twelve apostles, including the traitor, Holly. And since it is inverted, death is looming over the twelve apostles, rather than the one prophet. In my opinion, that is the only way to salvage this plot line. 

And finally, the last to die is Will. Vecna has been terrorizing him all this time. Will has more skin in the game than Eleven does. Since Vecna has supposedly been getting more powerful, it would require both Will and Eleven giving it their all. But in the end, there is no killing Vecna without Will. In a way, this whole show is about him. It’s a story about how he had his power taken away after a predator noticed he was weak. He’s struggled with himself throughout this entire story, and in the end, he’s ready to confront his fear. This whole show, Joyce has been battling with the idea of losing Will. She became incredibly protective over him, and now that he is independent and making his own decisions, she needs to live with the consequences.

EMPIRICALLY DOCUMENTED FAILURES IN SIMILAR MEDIA

Dexter, Lost, How I Met Your Mother, The Flash. So many shows have provided valuable examples of how NOT to conclude your series, with the most notable example being Game of Thrones—from which I will draw some parallels. Like Stranger Things, Game of Thrones spent years and years building up a central conflict. One that could potentially be apocalyptic. Finally, the last season comes around. This ominous figure, known as the Night King, has been slowly rising as a threat. Pieces of information have been meticulously revealed about him. So after all this preparation, it's time for the payoff. But they made just about every mistake you could. And then the Night King gets killed in about an hour, with essentially no consequences. All the stakes they worked so hard to build were immediately crumbled. I consider Game of Thrones to have the worst final season of any show I’ve seen. Stranger Things takes second place.