Journeying with Stranger Things - Review

          

I’ve spent a lot of time with Stranger Things over the years. Watching it stretch across five seasons feels a bit like growing up alongside it—except somewhere along the way, I think I started drifting apart from it.

Take Winona Ryder, for instance. I know her performance is meant to be intense, even frantic at times, but it often felt a little too much for me. Instead of pulling me into the moment, it sometimes pushed me out of it. When every emotion is turned all the way up, it stops feeling real. And then there’s the way the kids speak. Hearing children casually throw around lines like “dipshit” or “suck a fat one” just didn’t sit right with me. It felt less like natural dialogue and more like the show trying too hard to sound edgy. But it’s not all criticism—far from it.

What I genuinely appreciated is how the series handles memory. There’s this lingering sense that the characters are not just fighting monsters, but also trapped inside their own pasts. The Upside Down almost feels like a physical version of memory itself—dark, distorted, and impossible to escape. The idea of children being taken away into something unknown taps into a very primal fear. It reminded me of stories like Weapons, where that sense of vulnerability is front and centre. That said, the heavy focus on teenage emotions—romance, heartbreak, longing—did feel a bit overwhelming at times. Maybe it’s just me, but the “mushy teen” energy didn’t always land. And I can’t help but wonder: is the show leaning too much into it, or am I just no longer the audience for it?

Visually, though, the series is stunning. The creation of the Upside Down and the eerie presence of Vecna are genuinely impressive. The world feels textured, detailed, and alive in its own unsettling way. The music especially the use of 1980s pop and rock n roll tracks deserve a special mention too. It quietly threads everything together—sometimes you don’t even notice it, but it’s doing a lot of emotional work in the background. It connects moments, memories, and characters in a way that feels almost invisible.

And credit where it’s due—the Duffer Brothers have managed to hold attention across 42 episodes, which is no small achievement. That kind of consistency takes vision. I also loved the effort put into recreating the 1980s. The costumes, the sets, the tiny details—it all feels carefully built, not just thrown together for effect.

But more than anything, what stayed with me is a quieter thought: maybe I’ve changed. 

Maybe I’m no longer able to connect with that teenage emotional world in the same way. And that’s not really a flaw in the show—it’s just where I am now. In a strange way, Stranger Things ends up doing something unexpected. It doesn’t just tell a story about growing up. It makes you realise that you already have.