But it’s the kids’ show, and not a single one of the central quartet are weak. As Stranger Things‘ Elliott, Wolfhard perfectly embodies the struggle of having the reliability of his childhood fantasies, while facing the inability to actually do anything with them in the adult world. That is, until Eleven (El for short) shows up, levitates his model Millennium Falcon, and blows the boys’ collective minds. A new level of the playing field is opened up on their D&D board, but it’s just as overbearingly enforced as the real world (this time by “the Bad Guys” at that fortress of a laboratory deep in the Hawkins woods), and Stranger Things straight-up relishes in the kids Amblin-ing their way through each no-win scenario. That also results in some neat, striking imagery, most of which are spoilers, but one in particular revisits a wide-angle shot of an inky, watery nightmare world that worms its way into your head post haste.
There to pessimistically worry about failure and traitors is Dustin – “Lando Calrissian!” he mutters like a tick when he thinks they’ve been left out to dry by police chief Hopper (David Harbour) – and serving as his pragmatic pal is Lucas, who doesn’t trust Eleven’s claim that she can help the boys find Will again. They’re all a bit type-y, but just like Stranger Things as a whole, the actors nail what’s expected of them so smoothly that the performances are never redundant. That’s particularly impressive given the massive, culturally significant inspirations that the show is cashing in on.
Maybe the biggest question mark (maybe on purpose?) is Eleven herself. As played by Brown, El is intriguing and bland. When characters discuss her in awed tones, Stranger Things‘ hokeyness gurgles to the surface: “She can do things…” “What kind of things?” You know where this is going. This forced magnifying glass on her character by so many people on the show, especially Big Bad Dr. Martin Brenner (Matthew Modine), is a reminder of how blank she is among a cast of colorful personalities, outside of her Eggo dinner preferences and vehicle-flipping powers that is. Brown had a similar creepy kid role on BBC America’s Intruders a few years ago, and she’s definitely evolved as a young actress since then, but she still doesn’t quite have the plot-centering, all-important oomph that Eleven needs.
The writers give her long stretches of dialogue-free screen time, so she gets a lot out of pissed-off glares and nose-bleeding Carrie outbursts, but otherwise her emotional connection to the boys is tenuous at best, making some end-game stakes feel a bit shallow. Her relationship with Dr. Brenner is explained, or at least hinted at, early on (as is much of the show’s mystery, you won’t be holding your breath until hour 8 here), but it’s also underwhelming. Brenner’s motives are never clearly defined, neither is his job or his employers’ goals, beyond anything of the we-were-curious variety. He’s got an unapologetically ferocious henchwoman named Connie (Catherine Dyer), who can liven up a scene with one cheery sneer, but it’s frustrating when Stranger Things makes Hawkins so awesomely mysterious, without justifying a reason for its mysteries.
Therein lies my main gripe with The Duffer Brothers’ otherwise sublime little show: the ultimate explanation for the goings-on in Hawkins is essentially non-existent. You get the what but never the why, with hints and visual foreshadowing that greatly satisfies any eagle-eyed viewer who pays attention in the first 3 hours, but foreshadowing is only as good as the events it precedes, and Stranger Things immensely lacks its this is what was happening all along! moment. The series – so quiet and restrained and sure of itself – is almost too good at the old “show, don’t tell” mantra. As such, the final episode is somewhat of a let-down, riding off of the first 7 hours’ giddy, truly creepy coattails (a scene in an empty pool is haunting me) with a slight dearth of enthusiasm.
Thanks to Ryder and her ability to make you tear up over rainbow Christmas lights, the show’s ultimate resolution resonates far more emotionally than it does cerebrally. It’s a set-up that answers most of the central questions raised early on, and continues to dole out the same nostalgic paraphernalia most late-twentysomething Netflix subscribers will eat up in one night, particularly thanks to a final hour blocked by one batshit scene after another, but that hour also feels… empty. It’s a hard blame to pinpoint (even some heavy-handed flashbacks worked for me), and you’re doubtful to be annoyed or table-flipping angry with what the writers come up with, but it’s also easy to forget what transpires in those closing moments in the face of the trippy, unforgettable throwback adventure that precedes them.
