Even Stranger
Jul. 5th, 2022 11:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
evening_tsarFinally got 'round to the second Stranger Things (4, ii).
It is as I expected. The plot thickens. Themes are further dwelled upon. Nerds are further championed.
I've not much to add, expect maybe how the supernatural element seems subordinated to the real monsters in our so-called real world, but I suppose that's to be expected.
Again, the themes remain growing up, change, and the tensions therein. Most obviously between Mike and Will. Again, Will is the one have trouble with change, while Mike seems unaware that anything has changed. It's more or less the same thing they did in season three, but handled here with far more sensitivity and nuance. Mike arrives in California, and is far more interested in his girlfriend than his pal. Will can't help feeling abandoned and forgotten. It happens. Mike comes across as a bit of jerk, but I don't think he's trying to be. He just doesn't realize that platonic relationships also need nourishment. He's known Will so long, he basically takes him for granted - Pals don't need attention the way girlfriends do. Little realizing, well, they do.
The saddest part is, their friendship does seem doomed. Even if it survives the intrusion of "the girl", I don't see it surviving all the other upheavals life has in store - the rest of high school, the long distance between, college, careers, marriage, kids. . . Saddly, it happens. Not everything lasts forever. Not because anyone wants them to end, but because kids often just don't know how to accommodate change in their lives. It's a blancing act a lot of people don't learn until it's too late, and which some never learn.
Now let's talk about the aforementioned "girl", El. Poor El. Someone should write a book about her. Trying so hard to cope in a brand new world, full of stupid rules that no one tried to teach her, and which don't make sense anyway. Oh, how Brutally the world treats such people!
Of course she's bullied. Only recently have we begun to realize what an inadequate word "bullying" is. "Psychological Torture" is much more apt. If only it were as simple as getting slugged every now and then. But the humiliations, the taunting, the cruelty metted out. . . During those awful sequences, I could not help thinking of the Amanda Todd case, when the world divided itself into decent human beings who sided with the victim, and the vile scumbags who kept piling on her, even in the grave. Evil is not too harsh a word for the Angela character - in other eras, she's have a lucrative career ahead of her as an SS concentration camp guard. I'm not sorry, I cheered when the roller skate met her face - did she think she could get away with her acts with impunity? I hope El doesn't apologize. That will
Then we come to Lucas - less the focus here, but still important. Turns out his new friends want to hunt down and kill his old friends. Naturally, he's conflicted. Dungeon master Eddie Munson is suspect #1 in the death of Chrissy, because he's a proud long-haired D&D Metalhead. . .and because he was the last person seen with her. Due process wouldn’t get a fair hearing at the best of times. And if the neighbourhood jocks have an excuse to bust up the neighbourhood freak, they won’t quibble. Shades of the Memphis Three here.
Remember the Memphis three? Three small-town Metallica fans convicted of murder, largely on the basis of being Metallica fans. At least according to some observers (see: Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills). Granted, I wasn’t in the courtroom, I didn’t hear the evidence, arguably I have no business commenting on the case. But as a long-haired freak in a world that doesn’t always like long-haired freaks (Sophie Lancaster anyone), I can’t help paying attention to such things. I have no problem believing that a trio of black-clad, head-bangin’ Anton LeVay aficionados would receive less than a fair-trial in God Country.
Also remember, this was the 80s, and Satanic Panic was the order of the day. In highly responsible fashion, politicians, news anchors and talk show hosts whipped the nation’s white-bread eaters into hysteria with a steady diet of cockamine bullcrap about murderous black magic necro-orgies in Ozzy’s outhouse. These stories failed even the most rudimentary reliability tests, but such was the dearth of media literacy that folks went for it. And Eddie Munson and his mates are going to pay for it.
(Nevermind the 80s: at the end of the 90s I saw some flake on The Ever-so Reliable and Responsible Learning Channel explain what a Satanic cult’s altar might look like. It would include daggers, and copies of The Necronomicon and The Satanic Bible. That The Necronomicon is a work of fiction went unmentioned. As did the Satanic Bible being just a collection of dime-store Nietzsche-isms, and nothing remotely supernatural. That my ultra-Catholic brother owned both books should tell you all you need to know about this loon’s expertise. That she was allowed within a mile of the studio should tell you all you need to know about that channel’s worth as an educational resource. That they carried the story despite having to acknowledge in it that no law enforcement agency in the country had ever uncovered a single Satanic cult. . . need I go on?
And as for the internet era. . .don’t get me started.)
I should probably say something about Munson. It’ll surprise no one that he’s come to be one of my favourite characters on television. And not just because he wears a Dio patch. (Though logically, of course he would! Ronnie was Mr. Dungeons and Dragons, though it was a lot more figurative than most people figured. . .). Eddie’s a much more believable Metalhead than Billy was (though the latter’s Tank poster was a nice touch). He is vibrant, theatrical, and yes, intelligent. He is also an all-around decent guy, if a little odd. (At least so far). I love characters who defy the tropes. Who come to life on screen and behave like people rather than plot devices. Hollywood is full of archetypes – the stoner, the surfer, the sharp-dressed contract killer, the tough-guy mafioso, the clueless shrink, the stuffed shirt teacher, the virgin and the whore. . .I can’t stand any of them. Tired, boring, wooden as the backstock of Beaver Lumber, predictable as a mass-shooting (whoops, too soon?). Stir it up a bit with someone who might resemble an interesting, larger than life human being, and you’ve got my attention. Give me a Metalhead who’s not stupid or psychotic or just going through a phase (and knows more songs than “Enter Sandman”), and you’ve got my attention.
I hope they don’t kill him. . .
(DO NOT tell me!)
It is as I expected. The plot thickens. Themes are further dwelled upon. Nerds are further championed.
I've not much to add, expect maybe how the supernatural element seems subordinated to the real monsters in our so-called real world, but I suppose that's to be expected.
Again, the themes remain growing up, change, and the tensions therein. Most obviously between Mike and Will. Again, Will is the one have trouble with change, while Mike seems unaware that anything has changed. It's more or less the same thing they did in season three, but handled here with far more sensitivity and nuance. Mike arrives in California, and is far more interested in his girlfriend than his pal. Will can't help feeling abandoned and forgotten. It happens. Mike comes across as a bit of jerk, but I don't think he's trying to be. He just doesn't realize that platonic relationships also need nourishment. He's known Will so long, he basically takes him for granted - Pals don't need attention the way girlfriends do. Little realizing, well, they do.
The saddest part is, their friendship does seem doomed. Even if it survives the intrusion of "the girl", I don't see it surviving all the other upheavals life has in store - the rest of high school, the long distance between, college, careers, marriage, kids. . . Saddly, it happens. Not everything lasts forever. Not because anyone wants them to end, but because kids often just don't know how to accommodate change in their lives. It's a blancing act a lot of people don't learn until it's too late, and which some never learn.
Now let's talk about the aforementioned "girl", El. Poor El. Someone should write a book about her. Trying so hard to cope in a brand new world, full of stupid rules that no one tried to teach her, and which don't make sense anyway. Oh, how Brutally the world treats such people!
Of course she's bullied. Only recently have we begun to realize what an inadequate word "bullying" is. "Psychological Torture" is much more apt. If only it were as simple as getting slugged every now and then. But the humiliations, the taunting, the cruelty metted out. . . During those awful sequences, I could not help thinking of the Amanda Todd case, when the world divided itself into decent human beings who sided with the victim, and the vile scumbags who kept piling on her, even in the grave. Evil is not too harsh a word for the Angela character - in other eras, she's have a lucrative career ahead of her as an SS concentration camp guard. I'm not sorry, I cheered when the roller skate met her face - did she think she could get away with her acts with impunity? I hope El doesn't apologize. That will
Then we come to Lucas - less the focus here, but still important. Turns out his new friends want to hunt down and kill his old friends. Naturally, he's conflicted. Dungeon master Eddie Munson is suspect #1 in the death of Chrissy, because he's a proud long-haired D&D Metalhead. . .and because he was the last person seen with her. Due process wouldn’t get a fair hearing at the best of times. And if the neighbourhood jocks have an excuse to bust up the neighbourhood freak, they won’t quibble. Shades of the Memphis Three here.
Remember the Memphis three? Three small-town Metallica fans convicted of murder, largely on the basis of being Metallica fans. At least according to some observers (see: Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills). Granted, I wasn’t in the courtroom, I didn’t hear the evidence, arguably I have no business commenting on the case. But as a long-haired freak in a world that doesn’t always like long-haired freaks (Sophie Lancaster anyone), I can’t help paying attention to such things. I have no problem believing that a trio of black-clad, head-bangin’ Anton LeVay aficionados would receive less than a fair-trial in God Country.
Also remember, this was the 80s, and Satanic Panic was the order of the day. In highly responsible fashion, politicians, news anchors and talk show hosts whipped the nation’s white-bread eaters into hysteria with a steady diet of cockamine bullcrap about murderous black magic necro-orgies in Ozzy’s outhouse. These stories failed even the most rudimentary reliability tests, but such was the dearth of media literacy that folks went for it. And Eddie Munson and his mates are going to pay for it.
(Nevermind the 80s: at the end of the 90s I saw some flake on The Ever-so Reliable and Responsible Learning Channel explain what a Satanic cult’s altar might look like. It would include daggers, and copies of The Necronomicon and The Satanic Bible. That The Necronomicon is a work of fiction went unmentioned. As did the Satanic Bible being just a collection of dime-store Nietzsche-isms, and nothing remotely supernatural. That my ultra-Catholic brother owned both books should tell you all you need to know about this loon’s expertise. That she was allowed within a mile of the studio should tell you all you need to know about that channel’s worth as an educational resource. That they carried the story despite having to acknowledge in it that no law enforcement agency in the country had ever uncovered a single Satanic cult. . . need I go on?
And as for the internet era. . .don’t get me started.)
I should probably say something about Munson. It’ll surprise no one that he’s come to be one of my favourite characters on television. And not just because he wears a Dio patch. (Though logically, of course he would! Ronnie was Mr. Dungeons and Dragons, though it was a lot more figurative than most people figured. . .). Eddie’s a much more believable Metalhead than Billy was (though the latter’s Tank poster was a nice touch). He is vibrant, theatrical, and yes, intelligent. He is also an all-around decent guy, if a little odd. (At least so far). I love characters who defy the tropes. Who come to life on screen and behave like people rather than plot devices. Hollywood is full of archetypes – the stoner, the surfer, the sharp-dressed contract killer, the tough-guy mafioso, the clueless shrink, the stuffed shirt teacher, the virgin and the whore. . .I can’t stand any of them. Tired, boring, wooden as the backstock of Beaver Lumber, predictable as a mass-shooting (whoops, too soon?). Stir it up a bit with someone who might resemble an interesting, larger than life human being, and you’ve got my attention. Give me a Metalhead who’s not stupid or psychotic or just going through a phase (and knows more songs than “Enter Sandman”), and you’ve got my attention.
I hope they don’t kill him. . .
(DO NOT tell me!)
