Stranger Things 3 is a huge mess: PART 1 of an exhaustive diatribe

Disclaimer(!): the following is just an opinion, but it's definitely a negative one. If you enjoyed Stranger Things 3, that's great! Nonetheless, this probably isn't the article for you. Otherwise, read on!

Written by The Curmudgeon

WARNING: The following is not a review, it is a spoiler-filled rant. I recommend that you watch Stranger Things 3 before proceeding.

Stranger Things has been talked about a lot since it debuted in 2016. Something about this nostalgia porn-piece tickles the sensibilities of those who yearn for the charming simplicity of ‘80s cinema. At its best, it’s deliciously cliche – fuelled by the likes of Spielberg, Carpenter, etc. Talking about this show is cliche in itself at this point. It’d be trite of me to point out how it’s a “love letter to ‘80s science fiction” blah blah you’ve heard it before. I’m not going to do that. I’m also not going to delve into how comparatively ‘meh’ the second season was – it’s a bit late for that. Stranger Things season 1 was great and everyone knows it. So, let’s get to the point.

Stranger Things 3 is a complete and utter mess. It’s a mess in many small ways – like, why in this one shot are Eleven and Mike just staring at an M&Ms packet:

But the real issue is the writing. And I’d like to try my hand at articulating why I think the writing is so wince-inducingly bad.

In the spirit of keeping things as brief as possible (and not bore you all to the point that you commit seppuku all over your bedroom rug) I’m going to narrow my seething hatred down to three talking points. These points are, in my opinion, what best encapsulate the spirit of Stranger Things 3. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be uploading my exhaustive diatribe in small, digestible parts, so as not to bombard you with an overwhelming sense of misanthropy and regret.

For starters, I’d like to talk about the characters and the way they’ve been written this season – what worked (for the sake of fairness), and what really…really didn’t. In addition to this, I’d like to talk about tone. More specifically, I’d like to discuss the way it’s managed with all the focus and finesse of a blind goat piloting a Chinook. And, as an extension of this, I’m going to examine the pacing – how the story drags, how the lack of focus works against the pacing, etc.

And, as previously mentioned, this whole diatribe requires a working familiarity with the characters and plot. So, if you haven't already, go watch Stranger Things 3, and come back. Besides, I want you to feel the same pain that I did because I’m spiteful that way.

With that all out of the way, grab yourself a seat, a hot beverage of your choice, and a rusty spoon – we’re about to dig deep into this pulsating glob of disgusting, televisual disaster.

Chapter One: Susie doesn’t copy because she’s tone-deaf

For part one, I figure it’s probably better to start with tone because it’s much easier to explain.

As you all probably know (and therefore don’t need me to explain but by God will I explain anyway), tone refers to how something feels. Does it have a comedic tone? A deathly serious tone? Naturally, tones can be blended to create unique cinematic experiences. Bojack Horseman (2014-), for example, is frequently referred to as a "dramedy" or “tragicomedy” on account of its successful marriage of comedy and soul-crushing, existential dread. If you are unsuccessful, however, in combining tones, you end up with a confusing mess which flits manically from one tone to another in a manner which meshes like toothpaste in a sandwich.

If you haven’t guessed where I’m going with this, my point is as follows: Stranger Things 3 hasn’t got a salty fucking clue what it wants its tone to be.

Let’s take a decent example. In episode 5 (The Flayed), Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids venture to the hospital to follow a lead. Nancy and Jonathan go upstairs to investigate while the rest of the group remain in the lobby. When Nancy and Jonathan arrive, however, they’re violently beaten by a couple of acquaintances who’ve been bodysnatched, and a thrilling fight for survival ensues. They go all the way – lights flickering, sharp, obtrusive music, the works. Hell, poor old Jonathan gets bludgeoned so repeatedly it’s a wonder he survives.

Helpless screaming, struggling for their lives, all the good stuff. But then it cuts back to the bloody kids in the lobby, and for whatever godforsaken reason, they thought now would be an appropriate time to have a little Eleven/Mike heart-to-heart. Then we’re right back to the flashing lights and the blood and the screaming and the broken bones.

Splicing a character-building heart-to-heart amidst a terrifying fight scene is like garnishing an apple pie with onion gravy. The horror of the Nancy/Jonathan situation removes any sense of earnestness from the Eleven/Mike dialogue, while the latter kills the momentum of the former.

But oh boy, it gets better my friends. It gets so much better. Allow me to explain.

There’s another lovely scene in episode 6 (E Pluribus Unum) where Steve and Dustin (accompanied by Robin and Lucas’s irritating flea of a sister, Erica) clumsily infiltrate a Soviet facility. The tone is consistent for a bit – the tension is kept low on account of the generally kooky and comedic nature of Steve and Dustin’s dynamic. Christ, Steve is dressed as a fucking sailor (I refuse to provide context for those who haven’t seen it). Unfortunately, Steve and Robin are forced to get themselves caught to give Dustin and Erica the opportunity to escape and, hopefully, save them later on.

There’s a cute and comically toned little back-and-forth between Dustin and Erica as they slowly mount their rescue plan: Dustin accuses Erica of being a nerd – the one thing which she vocally despises – she protests, you know the drill. A silly argument, cue laugh track, whatever.

And then the next cut sees Steve being violently tortured with extreme prejudice by the Russians! I truly have no idea how I’m supposed to feel. One second I’m meant to be chuckling along with Dustin and Erica’s antics and then my beloved Steve is being clubbed within an inch of his little sailor shorts by Soviet thugs! It was this exact moment that tipped me over the edge.

Insert comedic dialogue here...

Then...

Oh dear...

Aside from that, there are other bits which are so tonally confusing, they’re actually hard to describe. Attempting to put the following instance into words will probably cause me physical pain akin to brushing my teeth with a spool of barbed wire.

My final example takes place in episode 6 when Hopper and Joyce capture a Russian scientist, Alexei, for answers. They enlist the help of Murray (that one weird asshole ex-journalist from season 2) because he’s apparently the only person Hopper knows who speaks Russian. They do this whole jokey bit where Alexei wants a cherry flavoured slurpy in exchange for information, but Hopper gets him the wrong flavour. As such, Alexei clams, which sends Hopper into a fit of rage. Hopper throws him out the door, hands him the keys to the car and the handcuffs they’d been using to detain him, and says something like “go get your own damn slurpy!”

Hopper then slams the door, and in the face of Murray and Joyce’s obvious reservations, claims that Alexei is more scared of the people for whom he works that he is of them.

Literally everything about the way this scene is depicted is comedic. In other words, “Hopper is so sure of himself and then Alexei will just drive off, much to his foil.” Hopper even wears this shit-eating smug grin that’s just begging to be proven wrong.

Shit-eating grin...

Music can be heard as the scientist ignites the engine of the car. Hopper’s shit eating grin intensifies, as does Murray and Joyce’s dismay. Hopper says “he’s calling my bluff”, stumbling over his words as he does so. Could that be a hint of regret? Could he have actually fucked up?

...did I fuck up?

Then Alexei drives off and Hopper looks like a fool, the comedic build up is payed off.

I’m joking of course, that doesn’t happen. Hopper is absolutely correct, Alexei stays, end of.

What in the name of sweet sunbathing Christ are we supposed to feel here? Are you playing him off for laughs, or not? Either follow through with the whole “Hopper is a smug idiot” routine, or make it so Hopper is calculatingly convicted in his judgement, and calls it correctly. Don’t do both. I’m giving myself a fucking hernia trying to figure it out, so I’m going to move on.

At the end of the day, the scene is set up with one tone and resolved with another – it just doesn’t gel.

The moral of the story is: Stranger Things 3 is to the concept of tone what a pile of grubby toenail clippings is to fine cuisine. And as much as I'd like to leave it at that, we're only just getting started. Stay tuned, dear readers - this is only the beginning...