The 2016 Netflix blockbuster show "Stranger Things" comes to an end with the eighth and final episode. The story of 1980's Hawkins, Indiana wraps up with five seasons and, in turn, wraps up our childhood with it. The series ends not with a bang, nor a whimper, but with tears and memories of love — lost and found.
The Duffer Brothers developed "Stranger Things" as a blend of investigative drama and supernatural horror with childlike wonder, infusing references to the popular culture of the 1980s. Revolving around Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Will, who share their mutual love for Dungeons and Dragons, a board game that plays through chaotic evil and chaotic good, they meet Eleven, a key protagonist in the show, and fight with inter-dimensional monsters and whatever that's bad — where the good wins over evil, and friends don't lie.
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The show has received critical acclaim throughout its run, particularly during its first season, with praise for its characterisation, atmosphere, acting, directing, writing, and nostalgic homage to 1980s cinema, making it a hallmark of 1980s nostalgia. The audience and the show's fans have always remained on the edge of their seats for every new turn in the story.
The emotional response to "Stranger Things" among us who grew up watching it is layered and deeply bittersweet. For viewers like me, who started watching in their teens or even as preteens when the show premiered in 2016, we literally watched these characters grow up on screen over nine years, creating a profound sense of shared experience.
The dominant emotion is nostalgic melancholy, creating this unique, layered feeling. I was not just mourning the end of the show; I was mourning their own adolescence that unfolded alongside it. The orange graduation robes, the choices we make, all resonated with my own growing up to what I've become.
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The longest goodbyes shared between Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan etched a similar tune in my own graduating heart, while the embracing of what comes "now" makes me become stronger and hoping for better.
The emotional weight of watching the five friends put their D&D binders on the shelf is real — it becomes a perfect full-circle moment and also mirrors my own transition from childhood to adulthood. The choice to leave Eleven's future ambiguous hits hard, yet keeps us hoping for a place far away with three waterfalls, something that we long for.
The show became both immediate and timeless for me — we learned the lyrics to Iron Maiden songs, cried for Eddie Munson to Master of Puppets and longed for the End of Beginning, as the Upside Down closed and the Rightside Up was always the friends, the graduation caps and the family that made us into what we are.
Running Up That Hill of growing up, I recognise how stranger things have happened all around, yet all we needed was love to make it right.
About the author:
Agomoni Chakraborty, pursuing Masters in English at Jadavpur University. An avid lover of theatre, she has written and staged two original productions. Her hobbies also include singing, playing the guitar and occasionally strolling through old Bengali books for a new plot.
