That said, I’ve noticed that the first three seasons began losing their magic. The seams started falling apart, with sub-threads that felt like padding and character inconsistencies between episodes. This is, naturally, somewhat expected when you continue on with the same cast. However, it felt like The Duffer Brothers had an unexpected hit with Season 1, were tasked with recreating lighting in a bottle and kept stumbling. Essentially, Stranger Things wasn’t living up to itself.
Which brings me to the fourth season, and how the gap between it and Season 3 not only enhanced the hype, but also allowed for a complete retooling. To be fair, the pandemic didn’t help matters. Yet as with any lengthy hiatus, time made the heart grow fonder. It also allowed for fresh material, and now Stranger Things is back with 9 new episodes. So how do they fair?
Wonderfully! Sure, the original magic’s gone, but this is an excellent Plan B. I haven’t been this invested since a young Will Byers was abducted by a Demogorgon and taken to The Upside Down, even if I have occasional problems with the execution. But enough of that. Let’s talk about what this season does well. There’ll be spoilers.
Set half a year after the previous season, Season 4 begins with Eleven/Jane writing a letter to Mike. She’s excited to see him on his Spring Break vacation, despite worrying that the time spent apart might’ve ruined their relationship. Back in Hawkins, a new threat has emerged from The Upside Down. A vampire-like being nicknamed Vecna has been preying on trauma survivors in order to connect the two realms. Initially blamed on Hawkins’ D&D group, The Hellfire Club, it’s quickly revealed that something more disturbing is transpiring. But why is Vecna starting his reign of terror now? And how can Eleven, who doesn’t have access to her powers, fight him?
It’s clear that The Duffer Brothers made an excellent decision by hiring Rand Geiger as a creative consultant this time around. Geiger’s resume is impressive, and he has an eye for set design, period accuracy and character consistency. Together with The Duffers Brothers, he brings in lived-in horror vibes and cutting special effects. Stranger Things has never looked this good, or even-dare I say-this creepy. It even blends different genres into its four concurrent storylines while tying them together in the final episode.
I’m not kidding. Between a wacky road-trip, a cerebral sci-fi mystery, a gothic horror tale and a Russian prison escape adventure, Season 4 goes Russo Brothers via The Avengers: Infinity War and splits up its cast. And it all comes together in the finale. This also helps offset the show’s swelled cast by allowing them to bounce off one-another without being upstaged or made irrelevant. That’s not easy when you have a stoner and an eccentric nerd both helping to fight the big-baddie.
It’s clear that The Duffer Brothers made an excellent decision by hiring Rand Geiger as a creative consultant this time around. Geiger’s resume is impressive, and he has an eye for set design, period accuracy and character consistency. Together with The Duffers Brothers, he brings in lived-in horror vibes and cutting special effects. Stranger Things has never looked this good, or even-dare I say-this creepy. It even blends different genres into its four concurrent storylines while tying them together in the final episode.
I’m not kidding. Between a wacky road-trip, a cerebral sci-fi mystery, a gothic horror tale and a Russian prison escape adventure, Season 4 goes Russo Brothers via The Avengers: Infinity War and splits up its cast. And it all comes together in the finale. This also helps offset the show’s swelled cast by allowing them to bounce off one-another without being upstaged or made irrelevant. That’s not easy when you have a stoner and an eccentric nerd both helping to fight the big-baddie.
Speaking of, Vecna’s the best antagonist to-date. He’s this show’s version of a vampire, attacking guilt-stricken victims and sucking them into his life-force, and he relishes every second of it. Everything from his design resembling a humanoid arachnid, to his voice sounding deep and throaty, to even his connection to Eleven and her friends being four twist-reveals, Vecna’s a major improvement from the faceless, giant beast that was The Mind Flayer. It’s unfortunate that Vecna’s motives are “I’m a nihilist” in execution, but he makes it work to his advantage.
Another aspect that I really like is the use of music to offset the mid-80’s vibe. Stranger Things wears its fondness for the decade on its sleeve, right down to the electronica rendition in the opening credits. Yet the highlight is Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill”, a 1985 hit plucked out of relative obscurity and made popular again thanks to Max’s confrontation with Vecna. Expect a revival of the single as her song goes viral on YouTube and Spotify.
Perhaps the best part, and something that always drew me back to Stranger Things, is its execution of horror. The show understands, as good horror does, that the key is investment in the characters. In particular, the show utilizes trauma and grief, showing that, at the end of the day, horror is tragedy. In a landscape filled with cheap jump-scares and excessive violence, having that balance of violence and character depth feels like a lost art. Perhaps more stories should take note?
Another aspect that I really like is the use of music to offset the mid-80’s vibe. Stranger Things wears its fondness for the decade on its sleeve, right down to the electronica rendition in the opening credits. Yet the highlight is Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill”, a 1985 hit plucked out of relative obscurity and made popular again thanks to Max’s confrontation with Vecna. Expect a revival of the single as her song goes viral on YouTube and Spotify.
Perhaps the best part, and something that always drew me back to Stranger Things, is its execution of horror. The show understands, as good horror does, that the key is investment in the characters. In particular, the show utilizes trauma and grief, showing that, at the end of the day, horror is tragedy. In a landscape filled with cheap jump-scares and excessive violence, having that balance of violence and character depth feels like a lost art. Perhaps more stories should take note?
Is Stranger Things faultless? Not really. Perhaps its biggest flaw is its episode lengths. You can get away with longer when utilizing your time well, but Stranger Things often pads its scenes out with slow-motion shots and dragged-on conversations. There’s no reason why the shortest episode is 64-minutes, and no amount of character analysis can justify that.
But that’s nitpicking in yet another solid entry. Stranger Things is rooted in a decade I didn’t experience, but its clever writing and engaging characters show that that’s irrelevant if you have a good story to tell. And Season 4 does. It’s unfortunate that its 9 episodes are movie-length, but if you can forgive that, you’re in for a treat. I can’t recommend it enough.
But that’s nitpicking in yet another solid entry. Stranger Things is rooted in a decade I didn’t experience, but its clever writing and engaging characters show that that’s irrelevant if you have a good story to tell. And Season 4 does. It’s unfortunate that its 9 episodes are movie-length, but if you can forgive that, you’re in for a treat. I can’t recommend it enough.
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