Make no mistake: this is a silly series. Ranging from the comedic tone, to the hammy acting, to even the staging and direction, it all elevates it to whimsical nonsense. This is both good and bad. Good, as this is a depressing series about misery and schadenfreude. And bad, as the only plot beat that carries true, emotional weight is the final tragedy. I still hold by that.
If that doesn’t bother you, then you’re in for a treat. Right from the opening, which sums up each episode in a pleasant jingle, a lot of thought and care went into this series. It’s a fun 25 hours, and it never bores. There are plenty of witty bits of dialogue, interesting set-pieces and overly-verbose moments to keep you engaged. And it has Patrick Warburton as the narrator. That’s always a win.
Stranger Things relies on two components to work. The first is the cast. If the show’s characters didn’t work, then the show wouldn’t work. But they also go the extra mile to espouse ideas not normally in syndicated TV to this extent. Themes like queer acceptance and fighting for the greater good are at the front and centre here, and they get fleshed out significantly as it progresses. It helps that everyone’s played by really talented actors.
The other component is horror. More specifically, the horror component’s more believable and tangible than many, bigger budget movies. It’s telling when a cheaply-made series has better scares and more convincing monsters than most Hollywood spectacles. The monsters also look really cool. Let’s hope The Duffer Brothers hit a home run again with the final season, shall we? I can’t wait!
I know some take issue with Carmen Sandiego being an antiheroine here, but it doesn’t really bother me. Carmen Sandiego always came off as a generic antagonist in previous iterations. She was always messing with the audience for…reasons? She might’ve stolen objects for the thrill of it, but it’s never been terribly compelling. Having her steal with an objective this time around is a step up.
The show also makes the franchise’s biggest hurdle, learning about geography, into a natural and fun part of the experience. Is it formulaic to have Carmen Sandiego espouse history at the beginning of each episode? Maybe, though there are worse ways to do it. Besides, if a show can educate you without you realizing it, then that’s always a win. It also has a diverse character roster. That has to account for something, right?
What makes Anohana work is that it taps into grief. The five main characters have spent years not grieving over their close friend, and it’s jaded them. By show’s end, they’ve all learned how to do so. And in the middle, they take a journey a self-discovery. It’s a tough lesson for anyone, but this show argues its necessity.
You know what helps? Its optimism about life. That’s shown through Menma’s ghost. Menma’s so blindly cheerful and optimistic that she rekindles the vulnerability her friends need to be able to mourn. It’s really simple, but quite effective. And given that I once struggled to write a piece about it for The Whitly-Verse, that speaks to how powerful it is.
Where do I begin? Do I talk about its political undertones? How it deconstructs toxic parental figures? Or that it treats gay and lesbian romances as normal, instead of something to be wary of? All of the above points qualify as good starting points.
But the biggest sticking point is that it, at times, even rivals Avatar: The Last Airbender in quality. Not always, its target demographic hinders it somewhat, but enough that I could call it its gender-flipped, complimentary-opposite. (It certainly takes more risks than Avatar: The Legend of Korra!) But yeah, give it a shot. At the least, it’s a nice distraction.
That about does it for now. As for Avatar: The Last Airbender being absent? You should absolutely watch it…but it was initially syndicated on Nickelodeon. Either way, I’ll see you all next time!
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