‘Stranger Things’ Season 5, The Finale – Review
Saying Goodbye to a Story That Grew Up With Us
There are very few television shows that feel stitched into the fabric of your own life. Stranger Things is one of them. For folks like me, this series has existed for close to a third of our lives, quietly growing alongside us. What began as a scrappy genre throwback about kids on bikes and things lurking in the dark slowly transformed into a sprawling, emotionally loaded epic about friendship, fear, and survival. With its fifth and final season, and especially its movie length finale, Stranger Things arrives at the impossible task every beloved series eventually faces. How do you say goodbye without betraying what made people fall in love in the first place?
The answer, in this case, is complicated.
Stranger Things, Season 5 has been one of the most polarizing seasons the show has ever produced. Some viewers found emotional closure and comfort in the final chapter. Others were frustrated by the pacing, the writing choices, and the sense that the show had grown too big for its own good. Both reactions feel valid. The finale is heartfelt, indulgent, messy, and occasionally deeply moving. It is also clunky, overextended, and strangely cautious for a story that once thrived on risk.
On New Years Eve, nearly ten years after it first burst into the cultural bloodstream, Stranger Things came to an end. The finale runs well over two hours and is structured in a way that feels less like a single episode and more like a stitched together feature. There is a long stretch of preparation. Then a final confrontation. And then an extended epilogue set eighteen months later that checks in on where everyone has landed. In all honesty, that epilogue works better than much of what precedes it. Emotionally, it feels cleaner. More confident. More in tune with what this show has always done best.
The problem is not that Stranger Things goes big. It always has. The problem is that it no longer knows when to stop talking. The writing this season often feels messy and overexplained. Characters repeatedly spell out emotions and motivations that the audience already understands. We see this most clearly in the finale, where swelling music underscores multiple back-to-back monologues that would have been far more effective as conversations. Two speeches about sacrifice do not land harder than one honest exchange. Instead, they slow the momentum at precisely the moment when urgency should be peaking.
This has been an issue creeping into the show for a while, but it becomes impossible to ignore here. Not every relationship needed a button. Not every dynamic needed to be resolved in dialogue while a monster loomed nearby. The result is a finale that often tells us things we already know, rather than trusting the emotional groundwork laid over five seasons.
That said, when Stranger Things remembers its core strengths, it still hits hard.
The cast remains the show’s greatest asset. Watching these characters come together one last time carries an undeniable weight. The series understands that what truly matters is not the mythology of the Upside Down, but the bond between these people. The most satisfying moments have nothing to do with spectacle. They come in quiet reunions, shared looks, and the sense of history carried in every interaction.
There is something especially poignant about the return to Dungeons & Dragons. Beginning and ending the story around that table feels right. These characters are no longer the kids they once were, and the show is honest about the distance between who they were and who they have become. Yet there is peace in seeing them still choose one another. Passing the game forward to a younger generation is a small, lovely gesture that understands legacy better than any graduation ceremony ever could.
Visually and technically, the season is impressive. The finale offers several striking set pieces, and the production value is undeniably massive. The show continues to wear its love for '80s cinema proudly, drawing inspiration from action, horror, and fantasy without losing its own identity. The music remains a powerful tool, with needle drops that are carefully chosen and emotionally effective. It is hard not to feel that this kind of licensing freedom may never be possible again, and the series makes the most of it.
Yet for all its size, the season often feels oddly restrained. The threats are scaled down rather than escalated. Season four ended on a note of defeat, and season five never fully leans into what that should mean for Hawkins. We are told about military control, shortages, and disruption, but rarely shown them in a way that alters daily life. The town never quite feels broken. The status quo remains largely intact, and that choice drains the story of a potential layer of tension and consequence.
This cautious approach extends to the handling of the villains. While there are moments of emotional resonance, particularly in how fear and self-loathing are explored, the antagonists feel less calculating and less dangerous than before. There are points where it seems clear that certain outcomes could have been far more devastating, yet the show consistently pulls back. It plays things safe, perhaps understandably given its cultural weight, but safety has never been what made Stranger Things special.
The ambiguity surrounding Eleven’s fate is another example of this hesitation. Leaving the ending open to interpretation is not inherently a flaw, but here it feels like an attempt to satisfy everyone at once. Ambiguity works best when it feels purposeful. In this case, it risks undermining the emotional clarity the finale otherwise strives for. When powers and realities become so malleable, it becomes harder to trust what the story is asking us to feel.
And yet, despite all of these criticisms, it is difficult to deny the emotional pull of the final moments. The extended epilogue allows the series to breathe. It lets the characters exist without constant peril. It gives us time to sit with who they have become. For a show that has always been a comfort watch for many, that gentleness matters. It is here that the finale finds its heart.
Stranger Things has always been, at its core, a story about friendship. About found family. About kids and adults who survive not because they are the strongest, but because they stand together. The Duffers never lose sight of that. Even when the plotting falters, the emotional throughline remains intact. Watching these characters imagine futures, say goodbye, and hold onto their bond is genuinely moving.
This was never going to be a perfect ending. The expectations were simply too high. Stranger Things became a generational event, and no finale could fully satisfy every hope placed upon it. What it delivers instead is something warmer and safer. Not epic in the way some may have wanted, but sincere in its affection for the people who made the journey matter.
If you cared about the characters, you likely felt a sense of closure. If you were invested in the mythology and unanswered questions, you may feel less fulfilled. Both responses can coexist. Stranger Things Season 5 is flawed, indulgent, and occasionally frustrating. It is also earnest, emotional, and deeply aware of what it meant to so many viewers.
In the end, Stranger Things did what it always did best. It reminded us why we stayed. Not for the monsters or the lore, but for the people. For the feeling of growing up together. For the simple comfort of familiar faces standing side by side one last time.
Stay strange.
Stranger Things Season 5 is now streaming on Netflix.
