Entertainment
Review: ‘Stranger Things’ returns for its final season, and our misfits are poised for battle
Seasons change. Kids grow up. Monsters evolve. Beloved TV series end.
“Stranger Things’” fifth and final season kicks off Wednesday after a nearly three-and-a-half-year absence. It’s a welcome but bittersweet reunion for fans of the show who’ve spent the last decade watching a gaggle of misfit kids (now teens) weaponize their nerd skills against supernatural and mortal enemies in the fictional town of Hawkins, Ind.
Will (Noah Schnapp), Mike (Finn Wolfhard), Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin), Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo) and Max (Sadie Sink) and their superpowered friend Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) are now poised for a final battle against their mind-bending nemesis, Vecna, when the season’s Volume 1 arrives with four new episodes; Volume 2 (three episodes) drops Christmas Day, and the finale arrives Dec 31.
I might complain about the staggering of episodes — all timed for a holiday, of course — but the strategy gives sentimental viewers (my hand is raised) a bit more time to emotionally uncouple with the show.
The end of Netflix’s oddball-to-blockbuster series marks the end of an era, and surely the last generational touchstone to come out of series television. Gen Z, which grew up in the dawn of YouTube and, later, the emergence of TikTok, has generally favored short-form content over lengthier productions; however, “Stranger Things” became the exception. Young fans stretched their attention spans, watching entire seasons of a show where episodes might range anywhere from an hour to two hours plus. The Upside Down, a dark, gooey parallel universe of Hawkins, and its predatory demogorgons became part of their middle school vernacular, in the same way that pre-streaming generations used “isms” from their favorite shows: (“Just MacGuyver it, dude”).
“Stranger Things” takes place in the Reagan era, so from its very beginnings parents of Gen Zers could watch the series with their kids while revisiting their own fond and/or torturous memories of growing up in 1980s. My son was in the sixth grade when the show premiered, meaning I was there to confirm that, yes, tragic hairdos, pleated jeans and unchecked bullying were a thing in the ‘80s. But unlike Eleven, we did not have the power to make said bullies pee their pants in public. If only …
The Day-Glo decade still plays a pivotal role when “Stranger Things” returns this week. Look forward to a Tiffany “I Think We’re Alone Now” moment, nods to great bands like the Fall, and a well-timed mention of a flux capacitor. But Hawkins is no MTV dance party. The sleepy town is under a militarized quarantine. It’s for their own protection, and because the government is up to no good, again. Nothing comes in or out of the place without the knowledge of authorities, unless it’s smuggled in by the perpetually scheming Murray (Brett Gelman).
Hopper (David Harbour) and Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) make their way to the Upside Down. (Netflix)
Max (Sadie Sink) remains comatose as Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin) attempts to reach her. (Netflix)
Last we knew, antagonist Vecna (who takes on many forms) had finally opened the gates to the dandruffy Upside Down, merging it with the real world. It was a violent event, but most of the town folk believed all that shaking and noise was because of an earthquake. Poor souls.
Hawkins’ beloved band of nerds know better. They’ve been doing covert “crawls” with the goal of locating and destroying Vecna before he turns the town, then the world, into an oozy wasteland. Joining the fight are Mike’s older sis Nancy (Natalia Dyer), Will’s big brother Jonathan (Charlie Heaton), friends Steve (Joe Keery) and Robin (Maya Hawke), Will and Jonathan’s mom Joyce Byers (Winona Ryder) and Elle’s adopted father, Jim Hopper (David Harbour). Max is comatose in the hospital. Her consciousness is trapped in Vecna’s mindscape, no matter how much Lucas plays Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” to wake her.
Following multiple attacks on their modest home by demodogs and U.S. agents, the Byers have been living in the basement of Mike’s home with his family, the Wheelers. The unfulfilled Mrs. Wheeler (Cara Buono) has been hitting the sauce and the usually flaccid Mr. Wheeler (Joe Chrest) is finally bothered by something — they’re eating his morning bacon! The youngest Wheeler, Holly (Nell Fisher), is now approaching the age that the core cast of kids were when the series premiered in 2016. And Erica (Priah Ferguson), Lucas’s don’t-mess-with-me little sister who still delivers all the show’s best zingers, is now in Mr. Clarke’s middle school science class.
Elevating the storylines of younger characters helps bridge the age gap created when the core cast of kid actors had the audacity to grow up over the show’s run. Brown was 12 when the show premiered. She’s now 21. Critics have complained that they should not be playing high schoolers. But accepting 22-year-old Wolfhard as a teenage Mike is not a stretch — especially given everything else “Stranger Things” fans have been willing to believe in (“talking” Christmas lights, psychokinetic battles, a nefarious Soviet lab under the mall food court).
There are spoiler embargoes aplenty so there’s a limit to what can be said about the first four new episodes out for review. Suffice to say there’s a mega battle on the horizon. Eleven has been training hard, honing her powers. Now she can fling armored vehicles, leap atop large buildings and bend the toughest of minds with a minimal nosebleed. Dustin is fighting angry, hardened by the death of his Hellfire Club buddy, Eddie Munson (Joseph Quinn). Steve and Jonathan are still competing for Nancy’s attention while her focus is on perfecting her sharpshooting skills. Hopper has a distractingly long beard. And Mrs. Wheeler proves to be a formidable warrior when armed with a jagged, broken wine bottle.
Their original kids’ circumstances haven’t changed all that much, but their outlooks have, making for unpredictable twists in their powers, strengths and alliances.
In the final season of their little show that did, creators the Duffer Brothers (twin siblings Matt and Ross), lean heavily on the interpersonal feuds and friendships between all the aforementioned characters, pairing high-budget action with advancing storylines about folks that fans have come to love. It is, after all, the kids at the center of the story that kept us coming back for more. And it appears they’ll continue to do so, right up to the end.
Movie Reviews
Miyamoto says he was surprised Mario Galaxy Movie reviews were even harsher than the first | VGC
Nintendo’s Shigeru Miyamoto says he’s surprised at the negative critical reception to the Super Mario Galaxy Movie.
As reported by Famitsu, Miyamoto conducted a group interview with Japanese media to mark the local release of The Super Mario Galaxy Movie.
During the interview, Miyamoto was asked for his views on the critical reception to the film in the West, where critics’ reviews have been mostly negative.
Miyamoto replied that while he understood some of the negative points aimed at The Super Mario Bros Movie, he thought the reception would be better for the sequel.
“It’s true: the situation is indeed very similar,” he said. “Actually, regarding the previous film, I felt that the critics’ opinions did hold some validity. “However, I thought things would be different this time around—only to find that the criticism is even harsher than it was before.
“It really is quite baffling: here we are—having crossed over from a different field—working hard with the specific aim of helping to revitalize the film industry, yet the very people who ought to be championing that cause seem to be the ones taking a passive stance.”
As was the case with the first film, opinion is divided between critics and the public on The Super Mario Galaxy Movie. On review aggregate site Rotten Tomatoes, the film currently has a critics’ score of 43% , while its audience score is 89%.
While this is down from the first film’s scores (which were 59% critics and 95% public) it does still appear to imply that the film’s target audience is generally enjoying it despite critical negativity.
The negative reception is unlikely to bother Universal and Illumination too much, considering the film currently has a global box office of $752 million before even releasing in Japan, meaning a $1 billion global gross is becoming increasingly likely.
Elsewhere in the interview, Miyamoto said he hoped the film would perform well in Japan, especially because it has a unique script rather than a simple localization as in other regions.
“The Japanese version is a bit unique,” he said. “Normally, we create an English version and then localize it for each country, but for the first film, we developed the English and Japanese scripts simultaneously. For this film, we didn’t simply localize the completed English version – instead, we rewrote it entirely in Japanese to create a special Japanese version.
“So, if this doesn’t become a hit in Japan, I feel a sense of pressure – as the person in charge of the Japanese version – to not let [Illumination CEO and film co-producer] Chris [Meledandri] down.
“However, judging by the reactions of the audience members who’ve seen it, I feel that Mario fans are really embracing it. I also believe we’ve created a film that people can enjoy even if they haven’t seen the previous one, so I’m hopeful about that as well.”
Book Review
Dear Monica Lewinsky
By Julia Langbein
Doubleday: 320 pages, $30
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First loves can be beautiful or traumatic, sometimes both. They are almost always intense, with emotions on speed dial and hormones running amok. Nothing like the durable consolations of late-life romance, but headier, more exciting and, in the worst cases, far more damaging.
Even decades later, Jean Dornan, the protagonist of Julia Langbein’s smart, poignant and involving novel “Dear Monica Lewinsky,” can’t recollect her own first love in tranquility. Its after-effects have derailed her life, and an unexpected email invitation to attend a retirement party in France honoring her former lover sends her into a tailspin.
An agitated Jean finds herself praying to none other than Monica Lewinsky, the patron saint of bad romantic choices, or as Langbein puts it, “of those who suffer venal public shaming and patriarchal cruelty.” In Langbein’s comic, but also deadly serious, imagination, this is no mere metaphor. The martyred Monica has literally been transfigured into a saint. And why not? Surely, she has suffered enough to qualify.
Jean and Monica have in common a disastrous liaison with an attractive, powerful, married older man. Monica was humiliated, reviled, then merely defined by her missteps. Meanwhile, her arguably more culpable sexual partner survived impeachment, retained both his political popularity and his marriage and enjoyed a lucrative post-presidency.
Jean’s brief fling during the summer of 1998 coincided with the public airing of Monica’s doomed romance. Jean’s passion took a more private toll, but she still lives with what Monica calls “this deepening suspicion that your existence is a remnant of an event long since concluded.”
Though framed by a fantastical conceit, “Dear Monica Lewinsky” is at its core a realist novel, influenced by the feminism of #MeToo and precise in its delineation of character and place. Langbein’s Monica — having finally transcended her past and ascended to spiritual omniscience — becomes Jean’s interlocutor. Together, they relive the fateful weeks that Jean spent studying the Romanesque churches of medieval France and charming David Harwell, the Rutgers University medieval art professor co-leading the summer program.
Every now and again, Monica, as much savvy therapist as all-knowing seer, interrupts Jean’s first-person account to offer guidance. Threaded through the narrative, as contrast and commentary, is a martyrology of female saints. These colloquially rendered portraits, reflecting a punitive, patriarchal morality, describe girls and women who would rather endure torture or even death than sully their sexual purity — stories so extreme that they seem satirical.
The portraits play off the novel’s milieu: a series of churches, as well as the medieval French castle that is home to an eccentric and mostly absent prince. The utility of religious doctrine and practice is another of the book’s themes. One graduate student, Patrick, is a devoted Roman Catholic, unquestioning in his faith. Others are merely devout enthusiasts of medieval architecture. Judith, a doctoral candidate at Harvard, has an addiction of her own: an eating disorder that threatens to disable her.
A rising junior at Rutgers, Jean is one of just two undergraduates in the program. Her initial dull, daunting task involves measuring and otherwise assessing the churches’ “apertures” — windows and doors. Later, she is assigned to collaborate on a guidebook and write a term paper.
A language major unversed in art, architecture or medieval history, Jean feels overwhelmed at times. But she does have useful talents: fluent French and the ability to conjure delicious Sunday dinners for her bedazzled colleagues. (The author of the 2023 novel “American Mermaid,” Langbein has both a doctorate in art history and a James Beard Foundation Journalism Award for food writing, and her expertise in both fields is evident.)
As the summer wanes, Jean’s fixation on David grows. Langbein excels at depicting the obsessive nature of illicit, unfulfilled desire — how it swamps judgment and just about everything else. A quarter-century Jean’s senior, David is trying to finish a stalled book project, laboring in the shadow of his more prolific and successful wife, Ann. An expert on the erotically charged religious life of nuns and the art it produced, she shows up briefly in the story and then conveniently disappears.
David is smooth, seductive and, to 19-year-old Jean, far more appealing than the fumbling schoolboys she has known. But he turns out to be no more grown-up or emotionally mature. After the flirtation and its consummation, David beats a hasty (and unsurprising) retreat. Then he does something worse: He allows his guilt to shred his integrity.
In the aftermath of that summer, a wounded Jean stumbles through her last two years of college, “berserk, unfocused, humiliating.” She abandons her academic and career ambitions, takes a job as a court interpreter, and marries Michael, an affable nurse who has little idea of her emotional burdens.
Then that invitation, inspiring “a racy heat,” arrives, and Jean must decide whether to confront her past or keep running from it. Is there really much of a choice? Fortunately, she has the saintly Monica as her guide. More clear-eyed now, Jean must reject her martyrdom and reclaim her own truth and agency. If she does, David, at least in the realm of the imagination, may finally get his comeuppance.
Klein, a three-time finalist for the National Book Critics Circle’s Nona Balakian Citation for Excellence in Reviewing, is a cultural reporter and critic in Philadelphia.
The sixth outing in the director’s chair for filmmaker Kirk Jones, I Swear dramatizes the real-life story of touretter John Davidson (played by Robert Aramayo). Tourette’s Syndrome, for those unfamiliar with the condition, is a nervous system disorder that causes various tics, the most prolific being erratic and explicit language. However, as I Swear expertly showcases, the syndrome is far more than ill-timed outbursts of curse words. Davidson’s story is one of societal frustration, finding your people (both with and without the condition), and using your voice to help others rise. The subject and subject matter are handled with absolute care and understanding under Kirk’s measured vision and Robert Aramayo’s BAFTA-winning performance.
The film kicks off with the greatest exclamation to democracy ever uttered (*%#! the Queen!), as a nervous John Davidson prepares himself before entering an awards ceremony hosted by Britain’s royal family. Right away, the film tells us what it is: a triumph over adversity that blends humor and human drama with education. It’s an important setup, as the film flashes back to Davidson’s 1980s youth, where we see his time as a star soccer recruit flatline as his condition takes hold. Davidson’s life spirals from there. Some aspects, like school bullying and accidental run-ins with authority figures, are expected but important to empathizing with young Davidson’s (young version, played with heart by Scott Ellis Watson) new everyday life. The more tragic, a complete meltdown of his family system, is unsettling if quick. His father (Steven Cree) is never given enough screen time to explore his alcohol coping tendencies. However, his mother Heather’s descent into easy fixes and blaming is crushing and convincing. Harry Potter series actress Shirley Henderson (Moaning Myrtle) gives a layered performance as Heather. Someone who loves her son, but also feels cursed by him as the entire family exits the picture. It’s bitter, she’s tired, and fills each conversation with ‘only medication and your mother can save you’ energy.
From there, the viewer and Davidson find refuge in a host of characters. Maxine Peake plays Dottie, the mother of a childhood friend and a retired mental health nurse. Screen vet Peter Mullan plays maintenance man Tommy Trotter. Together, they help Davidson build a life and an understanding of himself that carries the film forward into its second half. After that, the film is primarily a 3-actor show as director Kirk fills the screen with these tour-de-force performances. Peake and Mullan are great vessels to get the film’s main message across: patience, love, and a shared responsibility between the diagnosed and those who understand their struggle can help change the path for people quickly left behind by a normative world. Together, they are the soul of the movie, with the filmmakers clearly hoping the audience will follow their lead after they exit the theater (in my case, the beautiful Oriental Theater for the Milwaukee Film Festival). Both performances are perfectly warm and reflective and shouldn’t be left out in discussions of I Swear.
I say this because the movie is anchored by The Rings of Power actor Robert Aramayo, who leaves Elrond’s elf ears behind to bring an acute naturalism to his performance of main character John Davidson. Aramayo’s physicality and timing of the fitful Tourettes Syndrome never feel out of place or overplayed. In fact, the movie as a whole does an amazing job of never veering into sentimentality. While many moviegoers left with tissues dabbing their eyes, the filmmaking never felt like it was forcing that reaction out of audiences. It straddles the line between feel-good and reality with every story beat and lands squarely on the side of letting the real inform our feelings. Anyone with an ounce of empathy will grasp the film’s message and hopefully take it with them into life.
I Swear continues at the Milwaukee Film Festival on Tuesday, April 21st, and releases nationwide April 24th, 2026, courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.
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