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“Stranger Things” Continues to Brilliantly Develop Some of the Best Characters on Television

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Warning: This article contains Season 3 spoilers.

One of the major advantages television shows have over movies is that they’ve got a lot more time to play with, and the best ones relish that free time to develop and evolve their characters and the storylines they’re wrapped up in. In its 8-episode third season, Netflix’s “Stranger Things” continues to prove that on the character front, there’s nothing else like it on TV.

Above all else it’s the characters who call Hawkins home that make its fictional world such a joy to hang out in, and it’s the show’s excellent writing and performances that have allowed each of them to grow far beyond ’80s tropes. Much has been said and written about the entertainment that inspired “Stranger Things” and its Easter egg tributes to the past, but all of that stuff is actually the *least* interesting thing about the show. It’s all just nostalgic set dressing for what’s really important: letting a wonderful set of characters shine.

And the best of them all may very well be Joe Keery’s Steve.

Initially, Steve Harrington was a walking, talking ’80s trope, the personification of the handsome high school jock we’ve hated in so many movies over the years. And if “Stranger Things” was a 90-minute movie, that’s precisely who Steve would’ve been throughout the entire runtime. But across three seasons now, Steve has surprisingly become one of the most likable characters on TV, evolving so far beyond the trope that the Steve of season three is hardly even the same person as the Steve of season one. Mind you, Steve’s redemptive arc began in the latter half of season one, and continued with the fan-favorite “babysitter Steve” storyline in season two, but it’s in season three that Steve reckons with who he once was.

Bloodied, imprisoned, and facing certain death in the Russian lab underneath the Starcourt Mall, Steve shares a beautiful moment with fellow Scoops Ahoy employee Robin in episode 6, which kicks off with Robin sharing a high school memory. Robin tells Steve that she was “obsessed” with him (we’ll get more into that in a minute) in sophomore history class, sitting behind him for a whole year without ever being noticed. She was, after all, a “band dweeb,” while Steve was “the King of Hawkins High” – and in high school, never the twain shall meet.

“Everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just bullshit,” Steve responds to Robin’s story, acknowledging that the person she’s talking about and the person she’s talking to are not at all the same. “But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right? You know, I wish I’d known you in Click’s class.”

Later, in episode seven, Steve pours his heart out to Robin, confessing that he’s got a crush on her and that he only didn’t talk to her in high school because his friends – the same friends who spray-painted obscene messages about Nancy and Jonathan back in season one – would’ve made fun of him. For Steve, the scene is the completion of a wonderful character arc – “Mr. Cool” is in love with a “nerd” – but for Robin it’s something else entirely. After Steve pours his heart out, Robin gets honest with herself, revealing to Steve that she’s a lesbian. She wasn’t obsessed with Steve because she was into Steve, but because Steve wouldn’t give the girl she had a crush on the time of day. “I wanted her to look at me,” Robin tells Steve.

Rather than going down the expected path and setting up Steve and Robin as the hot new couple in Hawkins, “Stranger Things” instead hits us with a powerful curve ball, one that reminds how good the show’s writers are not just at evolving characters but also creating them. Equally impressive is how well cast and acted the show is, with Maya Hawke shining bright as Robin, another new character who seamlessly fits right in with the rest of the gang that we already love. Going forward, it’s looking like Steve and Robin will be friends, an infinitely more interesting dynamic than if they had become a couple. The Steve of old would surely never believe you if you told him who his two best friends would become.

Season three of “Stranger Things” is loaded with these interesting dynamics, and the show’s writers always seem to know which pair-ups we want to see most. Joyce and Hopper spend most of the season solving the Russian mystery together, flirting with a relationship while they uncover secrets, work together to beat up the corrupt mayor, and even take one of the Russians hostage in the pursuit of information. Joyce continues to be one of the most proactive and intelligent characters on the show, figuring things out long before anyone else catches on, while Hopper’s approach in season 3 is the polar opposite of Joyce’s calm intelligence – moreso than ever before, Hopper is a total brute, rampaging his way through the case. Yes, the show finally made Hopper and Joyce the buddy-cop duo you didn’t know you needed in your life, and it’s a highly entertaining good cop, bad cop dynamic that’s rife with sexual tension.

Some of the most interesting character work going on in season three, however, is Hopper’s internal fight. When we catch up with him in 1985, Hopper is a raw nerve on the verge of a breakdown, dealing with a daughter who’s growing up and a town that has for the *third time* been overtaken by monsters. Given everything he’s been through, up to and including the death of his biological daughter and the dissolution of his marriage, Hopper is an emotional wreck in season 3, and that hurt manifests itself in some pretty unsavory ways. In many ways, the Hopper of season three is a far cry from the Hopper we know and love, and David Harbour wonderfully paints a portrait of a flawed man who’s just barely holding it all together.

And don’t even get me started on those final moments of the season, which deliver “Six Feet Under” levels of emotional devastation. That note. That song. Beautiful storytelling.

But as heartbreaking as it was to see Hopper give his life to help save Hawkins and the people he loves, it was equally heartbreaking to see Dacre Montgomery’s Billy do the same in season three. Billy, a character who wasn’t exactly a pleasant person even before the Mind Flayer got into his head, has a surprisingly redemptive character arc this season, with the writers cleverly using Eleven’s powers as a way of taking us on a little trip down the Hargrove family’s own personal memory lane. Through these stylized flashbacks, enough light is shed on Billy’s childhood to clue us into why he is the way he is, and he gets a nice little final moment where he temporarily holds back the Mind Flayer’s control over him and becomes the hero Hawkins needs… if only for a moment. You know a show is firing on all the best cylinders when you’re wiping tears from your eyes over the death of a character like Billy Hargrove.

Of course, you can’t talk about “Stranger Things” without talking about the kids, who share an overarching storyline in season three. They’re not quite the little kids they were when we first met them, and now that they’re teenagers, there’s a sense of nostalgia that the season has for the show’s own past. In particular, Will can’t come to terms with the fact that his friends no longer want to sit around playing Dungeons & Dragons like they used to – after all, Lucas, Mike and Dustin now have girlfriends to worry about – and it’s devastating to watch along as he desperately tries to recreate the fun of the past. For Will, childhood has been ravaged by the creatures from the Upside Down in a way that his friends never quite experienced, and so it makes perfect sense that he’s the one trying to hang on to every last second. Thankfully, Will finally gets something a bit different to do in season 3, with his connection to the Upside Down serving as something of a Spidey sense-like superpower of sorts. After two seasons of Will being a victim, it’s nice to see Noah Schnapp getting to dig into some new material.

Like many fans, I had wondered if the show would become less charming as the actors got older, but season 3 suggests that “Stranger Things” is only going to get more interesting from here. Growing up presents an entirely new set of struggles that bring fresh subplots and dynamics to season 3 – the show itself, I’d argue, has done a bit of growing up too, getting darker and more dangerous this season – with one of the big highlights being the relationship between Max and Eleven. It’s through a friendship with Max that Eleven starts to really discover who she is and what she wants, developing her own style and figuring out how to deal with boys. It’s been a real treat to watch Millie Bobby Brown evolve the character.

Also great to see? Erica Sinclair, a season 2 scene-stealer, becomes a full-on main character in season 3, and actress Priah Ferguson knocks her material out of the park. Erica, who had been too cool for the “nerds” that her brother hangs out with back in season 2, spends much of the season paired up with Dustin, Steve and Robin, and every scene she’s in is another opportunity for Ferguson to steal the show – which she does, every single time. Erica even gets a little arc of her own that presents itself when Dustin realizes that she’s, well, a total nerd!

The monsters are cool and the retro aesthetics continue to fill me with warm nostalgia, but it’s the characters that make “Stranger Things” an all-time great show. They’re the reason it has evolved from a show that pays tribute to iconic pop culture properties to a pop culture icon in its own right, and season 3 is a new benchmark for character-based storytelling on the small screen. Whether it’s expanding upon existing characters or creating brand new ones, “Stranger Things” makes it all feel so effortless. Here’s hoping other shows start taking some notes.

Writer in the horror community since 2008. Editor in Chief of Bloody Disgusting. Owns Eli Roth's prop corpse from Piranha 3D. Has four awesome cats. Still plays with toys.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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