It's unusual today to become aware of a new movie or television series only a few weeks before its debut. In 2016, popular entertainment is usually telegraphed online, months if not years in advance, providing ample time for companies to churn out numerous trailers, promotional material, comic con hype and press conferences. Entertainment blogs and websites, in turn, have a field day writing speculative articles, spreading rumors, and nitpicking every production decision before they see the finished product.
I don't know how long Stranger Things had been marketed to the public before its premiere last Friday, July 15. I cruise several entertainment blogs and hadn't heard anything about it until I stumbled on the second trailer about two weeks ago. Maybe I was out of the loop, but Stranger Things appears to have had a quiet buildup and roll-out. That's fine, because if the quality of the show generates the buzz it deserves, the series is going to earn widespread love gradually, the old-fashioned way. Stranger Things is a near-perfect course study in suspense storytelling, layered with homage to genre films of the 1980s with simple but satisfying character arcs-- a story that follows a tried-and-true formula with infectious fondness and gravitas.
When the story opens on four preadolescent nerds playing Dungeons & Dragons in 1983, it's immediately apparent who the show is meant for. If you've seen E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, the Goonies, Wargames or any any of their ilk representing a specific kind of kids' adventure movies from the 1980s, you already know the meat and potatoes of Stranger Things. It also channels oldschool Stephen King and is decidedly more mature than the aforementioned movies, understanding that its primary audience will be adults longing to relive the stories of their youth. Staples of the genre such as government conspiracy, unexplained phenomena and very real danger that would be considered too violent for today's coddled kids are all on full display in Stranger Things.
Mike, Will, Lucas and Dustin are a close-knit quartet of kids whose world is shattered when Will, on the way home from a 10-hour role-playing marathon, disappears. From that setup, the series interweaves three sub-plots, neatly divided between the children, their teenage siblings, and the adults in their lives, into a larger narrative as the search for Will gets underway. That trichotomy allows for a comprehensive homage to 80s films that follow similar plots, and the greatest achievement of the series is that while a well-trodden (but not unwelcome) formula plays out, it subverts tropes often enough to stay fresh. It feels like a mini-series from the 1980s that you just missed until it showed up in your Netflix recommendations.
Breakout characters in the cast include Winona Ryder as Will's mother Joyce and David Harbour as Police Chief Hopper. Their "B" story kicks off as Joyce believes she is receiving messages from Will, wherever he is, while everyone around her naturally believes she is crazy. Hopper, influenced by the loss of his own daughter and subsequent dissolution of his marriage, is inclined to believe in Joyce's frantic, desperate hope that her son might be alive. Some have accused Ryder of overacting the part of the manic mother of a lost child-- I thought the level at which she played Joyce's intense gauntlet of emotions was probably spot on for the situation. Harbour is usually understated in his performance, with emotion brewing just below the surface, and is a good foil for Joyce.
Then there's Eleven, the biggest piece of the puzzle. Played by young Millie Bobby Brown, "Elle" (as the boys rename her) is a sensation in every scene. It's apparent early on, when she emerges in a torn hospital gown from the forest outside of town, that she holds the key to solving Will's disappearance. Her story is told through disjointed flashbacks and to a lab, a cell, an endless void-- the places nightmares are made of. She's the kind of character who can make your hair stand on end with just a few soft-spoken words, a living treasure trove of secrets that reveal themselves gradually as Stranger Things's mythos falls into place.
If there's a weak link at all in Stranger Things, it's the middle subplot, that of the teenagers. More than the others, it's filled with cliches-- although in a nostalgia piece like this, that could be seen as a positive. Will and Mike's siblings, Nancy and Jonathan, are more focused on their relationships and high school drama than facing an unknown, horrifying force that may be stalking them, but to be honest, that might be an accurate representation of average teenagers. I hesitate to say they detract from the show, however, because they're never given an overbearing amount of screen time.
Scared teens? Check. Unseen evil? Check. Bike escape scenes? Check (with apologies to Henry Thomas). To say much more would risk spoiling the series and its mysteries, so I won't. I'll conclude by saying that, outside of the Marvel series, there are only a handful of Netflix originals that qualify as must-see viewing. Stranger Things is one of them. At a trim 8 episodes, you can watch it in a single Saturday, like the 400-minute movie it really is.































