Rewind Files: If Stranger Things Wasn’t Derivative, What Would It Be?
Stranger Things’ greatest strength is also its greatest weakness: its rampant and unabashed homage toward 80s popular culture. The show’s story is fantastic, thrilling and compulsive, and it’s elevated by a particular sense of time and place. On the other hand, the show’s incessant referencing also seems to shackle it, boxing it into certain expectations. Going through Stranger Things again, on the eve of its sequel season, is definitely a fun time, but it reaffirms that the only surprise the show had in store was its simple existence in the first place.
The best thing about Stranger Things is its cast, which also happens to be its most original thing. Millie Bobby Brown (she’s Eleven) is a permanent star in a role that’s going to ascend to icon status, and her male compatriots are just as funny, charming, and instantly likeable, even if they don’t hold half of her mystery. Winona Ryder is certainly spazzy and spluttering, but her notes of pathos slam you like cymbal crashes. David Harbour is terrifically archetypal as Sheriff Hopper, too. He’s every heart-of-gold burnout cop you’ve ever seen, but his attitude remains distinct. You remember him.
The strength of the cast means Stranger Things’ greatest moments revolve counter-intuitively around its relationships rather than the climaxes of its sci-fi and horror monster hunts. Eleven saving Mike from his jump into the quarry is infinitely cheer-able, and the way she sacrifices herself to kill the demagorgon is all-the-way perfect. The series’ high point—way back in episode three—comes when Will’s “body” is found to the tune of a David Bowie cover. There are lots of quiet hugs and tears and people holding one another; it’s really beautiful. This show is at its best when it’s letting its characters interact, and sometimes, the constant nostalgia-tapping invades those dynamics.
It’s not really wrong for Stranger Things to borrow tropes from 80s classics. In fact, that’s probably what made it such a comforting watch the first time around. The mystery of the plot was balanced by a tonal familiarity. Even if the destination was different, we had taken a journey (or two, or three) like this before, so we knew what to expect. Unfortunately, that’s kind of where you wish Stranger Things had flexed a little more. The world doesn’t stretch beyond the people we meet in the show. Hawkins is a bland town, and anyone who isn’t important to the plot isn’t introduced. In some cases, that’s economic and smart—eight episodes was the perfect length—but the lack of depth limits the show’s rewatchability. There’s no history to tap into or lore to grasp. Even the pseudo-science of the Upside Down doesn’t conjure the same urge to decipher it the way, say, we were all trying to figure out Looper a few years ago, or Inception a few years before that. We’re playing in a shallow pool.
What that means, ultimately, is that our conversations around this show are restricted to “remember when” points. Remember when Eleven flipped the van? That was awesome. Remember when Steve returned to help fight the demagorgon? That was cool. Remember when Winona Ryder talked to her missing son through a tangled bundle of Christmas lights? My heart floated into my throat. These scenes are impactful and vivid, but there’s nothing beyond that. We have enough puzzle-box shows, but there’s something to be said for leaving a few things unknown or a few things left to discover.
And that finally brings us to this sequel season. Stranger Things had tiny cliffhanger moments in its finale, but they were small enough to prevent the necessity of doing this whole thing over again. I was fine with Hopper being driven away by the evil scientists and with Will having visions of the Upside Down; those can simply exist as consequences of a supernatural adventure. Going nine more episodes implies that there was more story to tell, more world to build, but the first season didn’t really try to make that point. The world was, for the most part, back to normal, and the characters had resolved their arcs. Mike and his friends had strengthened their bonds with one another, and opened themselves up to a new friend along the way. Eleven had learned about friendship (and romance). Nancy had chosen to hang with the cool crowd, and Will, quite simply, was back. A second season also implies there’s more growth for these characters to experience. It’ll be a welcome surprise if that proves correct, even better if the characters we love engage with deeper, logical conspiracies at the same time as their maturations.
It’s probably a simple point—the second season of Stranger Things will only be good if it finds ways to tinker with what came before—but it’s one that can stand for the series as a whole. The first season told an old story with original characters. It tinkered just enough, but at second glance, it didn’t tinker far enough to announce this second season as something we wanted aside from “more Stranger Things.” There’s nothing here that promises answers or evolution, just a return. Then again, on the other hand, the first season proved that a return might be satisfying enough in the first place.