We really did end up watching strange things: A deep dive into season five of Stranger Things

By Bella Averett

The same girl who watched season one of Stranger Things with her family when it came out, because she wanted to feel cool, sat down on Thanksgiving weekend to start the new season.  

Hiding from the internet’s buzz of spoilers, I began watching the new episodes of the TV show that I, basically, grew up with—and after Volume one, I was pleasantly surprised. Yes, the dialogue was filling me with the utmost second-hand embarrassment, but the overall plot left me with undeniable hope. 

To my annoyance, new characters held a lot of the focus, but the attention to the original party members, specifically Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will reminded me of the earnest heart of the show. Especially the resurgence of Mike and Will’s friendship—and I did not think this with complete intentions of pushing romantic connection popular on social media by saying that. I simply mean that platonically the relationship between Mike and Will in the early seasons was undoubtedly the most heartwarming portrayal of friendship. In seasons three and four we lost that, so any augmentation of their friendship gives the show its original “pop”. 

Additionally, new friendships between characters like Robin and Will, the ever-loving, endearing nature of Lucas and Max’s relationship, the added focus on demogorgans, the exploration of Will’s connection to Vecna, and the incorporation of his powers all dazzled me as fascinating plot points.  

The pure excitement and joy residing in my stomach in the month after Volume one might just be the reason I sped through the weeks before winter break. Part of that does come with me being hooked on to every internet theory regarding the aforementioned relationship or “ship” including Will and Mike, but another part of it came from hope for the following episodes. 

I am sad to say that the optimism running through my veins crashed and burned come Christmas day. I snuggled in to watch Volume 2, and all my faith burnt out with my Christmas spirit. No one is sure what happened to the Duffer brothers in between writing volume one and two, but it could not have been good because the shift in just the writing styles was astronomical.  

In December following the release of volume one, Matt and Ross Duffer said themselves “It’s going to be a dark Christmas, and an emotional New Year’s Eve.” By saying that did they mean they wrote the episodes in the dark? I had no desire for my favorite characters to face death, but I would have accepted it if it meant we got better writing. The darkest part of the episode was the underwhelming storyline and, frankly, the lack of major character stakes.  

In past seasons, once you got to the ending episodes the anticipation and the intensity could cut glass, but I have used kiddie scissors that are sharper than the intensity of this trio of 1-hour long episodes. The Duffer brothers had potential to write one of the most beautiful, tragic, romantic scenes in television history, but instead they went with the obvious choice—writing a scene so vague that thousands or even millions of fans sparked utter confusion on the internet. How did Nancy and Jonathan survive the rising “goo” that burned through all material items? How did nothing catastrophic happen when Nancy shot the sky after Dustin spent a shocking amount of time describing the science behind it? And how did the discussion of Steve’s “little nuggets” and Millie Bobby Brown’s “vogueing face” get more screen time than Mike’s personality this volume?  

To add on, every scene of those pointless hours was overshadowed by the talk of the town—the coming out scene. Discourse flourished through the various social media platforms and rightfully so. The pivotal character development moment, which, according to many cast members, took 12-hours to film was important to Will’s character without a doubt, but how well was it really executed. Short answer—not well.  

That is how the left us. They had over 3 years since the release of season four in May of 2022, but all the fans got was a non-fleshed-out breakup scene and an “empowering moment” of self-realization. But how empowering is coming out when you are being forced to with the fear of being outed by your childhood kidnapper? 

And what really took the cake of this season was what occurred on the AMC screen. 10 years led up to this moment and 10 years of work led to a more anticlimactic ending than the end of a children’s theme park ride.  

The ending that led to the mass psychosis known as “Conformitygate.” Over Twitter, TikTok, Instagram and every other social platform imaginable theories spanned as fans wondered how their favorite show could have possibly had that horrible of an ending. If that doesn’t say anything about the disappointment that was this season, I do not know what will.  

If you were to look up the aforementioned “Conformitygate” on google you could spend hours upon hours, melting your mind, rotting your eyeballs, and forming carpal tunnel in your fingers scrolling though the countless inconsistencies of Stranger Things.  

Will was not possessed nor connected to Vecna really at all. Mike, the kid who would have jumped off a cliff for his friends, had the personality of a spoon. Props “coincidentally” changed colors, after the iconic “I don’t believe in coincidences” line spoken by Lucas. Mike still could not say “I love you” to Eleven as she was actively saying her last words to him. Will’s story about getting milkshakes at Melvalds (a convenience store, not a place for milkshakes) was never brought up again. Teenagers scale incredibly tall mountains in 30 seconds time, all the monsters of the upside down suddenly did not exist, and so many more plot holes remained as the show ended.  

All of that and the thing that hurt the worst was the Duffers themselves falling to conformity. The show that was supposed to be about the losers was changed to the show just for money and fame. The Duffers had no desire to continue empowering the weirdos they were just money hungry. They chose a 2-minute ultimate battle over well-written entertainment. Clearly evident by the fact that they had multiple Chat PT tabs open while writing, shown in the documentary. As well as the interesting actuality that the second Ross Duffers wife, the director of the Fear Street movies, divorced him. Their writing became nonsensical. 

They did not care about the art.  

What truly was my own personal agony was the blatant taunting of all those who hoped for Mike and Will to end up together. I would have been completely comfortable with the tasteful closure of the long-desired relationship, but the cruel taunting done by the Duffers was just Scrooge-like. The reduction of Will’s unrequited love to a simply “Tammy” or childish crush was idiotic. After years of shared looks, “crazy-together’s”, bumping of elbows, touches of knees, avalanches of signals, loving paintings, tearful car rides, and incredible bonds, they were reduced to. “Friends, no thanks, best friends,” and epilogue boyfriends. 

While accepting a 2017 SAG award for the show, David Harbor said “We 1983 Midwesterners will repel bullies. We will shelter freaks and outcasts, those who have no home. We will get past the lies. We will hunt monsters. And when we are at a loss amidst the hypocrisy and the casual violence of certain individuals and institutions. We, as per Chief Jim Hopper, will punch some people in the face when they seek to destroy the meat and the disenfranchised and the marginalized.”  

But the new season did not do that. It ended, and with overwhelming sadness, it ended on a bad note of not sheltering the weird of the show, but ousting it.