Angelus News | July 29, 2022 | Vol. 7 No. 15

— of Hawkins. The season’s new
villain is “Vecna” (Raphael Luce as a
child and Jamie Campbell Power as
an adult), a grim serial-killing monster
who gruesomely murders teenagers.
Vecna’s demonic psychological sway
represents a significant escalation in
evil from previous seasons’ creepy-crawly
monsters. The lack of a countervailing
power of good is therefore a great
weakness in the show. The devil is real
in “Stranger Things,” but God is not.
Despite some interesting but weightless
dialogue about “miracles,” the Church
is merely a blind institution full of
ignorant townspeople.
What’s interesting here is that “Stranger
Things” lacks categories for good
and evil, so it translates them instead
to “normal” (bad) and “marginalized”
(good). For the most part, the “normal”
people in the show are uniformly monstrous.
Eleven (Millie Bobbie Brown)
is bullied by Angela (Elodie Grace
Orkin) and her pack of mean girls.
Jason (Mason Dye), the anti-Eddie, is
a blond basketball captain who reads
his lines like a Southern preacher. He
is seen as a psychopathic bigot, even
though, by the show’s internal logic,
he’s making reasonable assumptions
about the evil in his town.
Jason is a vigilante, but so are Nancy
(Natalia Dyer) and her friends. But in
Jason’s case, his vigilantism is perceived
as villainous because he is slightly off
about the culprit’s identity. And really,
because he is normal. At least the
characters praise Joe Keery’s jock Steve
Harrington, but that’s a weak concession;
Steve transcends his identity by
being a toothless, albeit sweet, nerd
ally.
Ignoring the good-evil distinction also
saps the tension from the existential
crisis facing Eleven. Having internalized
the logic of conformity, she
— who is not a murderer — wonders
whether she is truly a monster because
she’s socially awkward, or if her “father”
— a murderous but suave scientist —
is. Gee, wonder what the answer is?
Eventually Eleven realizes that it’s
the abused “monsters” like herself
who are righteous, not their abusers.
But this logic — still free of good and
evil distinctions — leads her to offer
absolution to an actual monster! (In
the immortal words of Indiana Jones,
“Didn’t you guys ever go to Sunday
School?”)
The lack of a concrete (probably
religious) sense of good is also problematic
for the show’s strongest, most
affecting storyline: the stalking of
Vecna’s victims. They are outside of
the jock-nerd distinction. Previously,
“Stranger Things” monsters picked off
whoever happened to be around. This
time, Vecna hunts the emotionally
vulnerable, as all predators do.
It’s a terrifyingly perfect threat for
high-schoolers, for the fantasy logic
of Vecna’s hunt is a perfect metaphor
for teen suicidal ideation. He lies to
them about their worth, watches them
spiral, then moves in for the kill. It’s
Screwtape 101. Kids, full of hormones
and oversized emotions, are the perfect
prey for a demon.
Tomboy Max Mayfield (Sadie Sink)
is his key target. Despite her spunk,
Max is at heart the most fatalistic and
sensitive of the Hawkins kids because
she has been burdened by far more
adult struggles. Her journey this season
is engrossing and (in that one scene)
empowering, but its grim resolution
undermines what comes before. Totemic
pieces of ’80s pop culture aren’t
really strong enough to beat the devil,
it turns out.
But at least the showrunners, brothers
Matt and Ross Duffer, seem to know
that. They are aware, in the end, that
these characters need something stronger
to combat evil than pop culture,
and that being an outsider does not
always make one righteous. Yet what
else is there?
In season five, the Duffers will
need to be more honest about the
limitations of righteous loner logic.
The show should take the time to let
character moments breathe (more of
Eddie and a cheerleader awkwardly
flirting, less endless exposition), restore
healthy authority figures (bring back
Smart Hopper!),
Millie Bobby Brown and
Jamie Campbell Bower
in the fourth season
of Netflix’s “Stranger
Things.” | IMDB
and be comfortable
with united
families (less
bickering, more
bantering). These
changes would go
a long way toward
creating a community network that
feels real. After all, that is the thing that
stops teenage spiraling in real life.
It also wouldn’t hurt, when the devil
is at the door, for the Hellfire Club to
go to Sunday School.
Hannah Long is an Appalachian
writer based in New York City.
July 29, 2022 • ANGELUS • 29