Christmas in Hawkins: When the Leftovers Taste Like 'Stranger Things' and Late-Onset Puberty
By: A viewer with holiday indigestion
The scene is a holiday cliché: it’s December 25th, your stomach is at a breaking point from turkey and romeritos, and the whole family is slumped on the sofa in a food coma. No one wants to argue about politics, so we turn on the TV. And there it is, like a gift we asked for three years ago that finally arrived after being delayed by pandemics and Hollywood strikes: the premiere of the fifth and final season of Stranger Things.
Netflix doesn’t miss a beat. They know that during the holidays, we are easy prey for nostalgia and passive entertainment. So, between the punch and the dessert, we dive once more into Hawkins. But returning to this universe feels, from the start, like visiting those distant nephews you haven't seen since they wore braces—only now they open the door with deep voices and are asking for the car keys.
The "Neanderthal" Syndrome and Eternal Adolescence
The first thing that hits you isn’t the special effects; it’s the biology. Time in Hawkins moves much slower than in the real world, and the cognitive dissonance is starting to get painful.
Watching Millie Bobby Brown (Eleven) no longer evokes that protective tenderness for the little girl with the shaved head. Now she is a young woman with a powerful presence—almost giving off "responsible aunt" or "tax-paying neighbor" vibes—trapped in plotlines that she has clearly outgrown. But the most acute case of this awkward "growth spurt" is suffered by the leading men, a group we can aptly call the sentimental "Neanderthals."
The rivalry for Nancy Wheeler (Natalia Dyer) between Steve Harrington (Joe Keery) and Jonathan Byers (Charlie Heaton) has aged worse than milk left out on the counter. Specialized critics have been pointing this out for a while, but seeing it on a giant screen at Christmas makes it inescapable: Keery, who is already over thirty in real life, is still playing out high school jealousy dynamics that feel forced. They are adult actors playing "kids," with impeccable 1987 hairstyles, in a love triangle that seems frozen in time while their faces tell a very different story.
And let’s not forget those who used to be annoying and are now… well, worse. Characters like Mike Wheeler (Finn Wolfhard) have devolved from brave leaders into neurotic know-it-alls. I must confess, when the local bullies pick on him, a dark part of me feels it’s a bit of karmic justice for how irritable he has become.
Netflix and the $30 Million Machinery
While we digest our Christmas dinner, Netflix is digesting astronomical profits. Stranger Things isn't just a series; it’s the crown jewel of the platform, the asset that justifies quarterly subscriptions.
Behind this final season are, once again, the Duffer Brothers (Matt and Ross) as creators, and executive producer Shawn Levy (the same director behind blockbusters like Deadpool & Wolverine), who ensures every frame looks like cinema rather than television.
And it certainly isn't cheap. Industry reports suggest the budget for this final season is hovering around $30 million per episode. Does that money show on screen? Yes. The visual effects—whether you wonder if it’s high-end CGI or AI—are spectacular. The structured incursion into the "subsurface" (the Upside Down), where the real danger lurks, looks more terrifying and expensive than ever.
Netflix elbows its way into our Christmas with the ease of someone who knows they have the most addictive product on the market, backed by a blank check to ensure we don't change the channel.
Déjà Vu and the New Sacrifice
Despite the millions and the visual pyrotechnics, an intense sense of déjà vu pervades the room. The formulas repeat: the group splits up, the heroic adults—the ever-magnificent Winona Ryder (Joyce) and her rugged boyfriend David Harbour (Hopper)—provide emotional stability, while the youths pile into vans equipped with trackers.
The first episode closes on a familiar but effective note: the sacrifice of innocence. A new young girl seems to occupy the vulnerable space once held by Will Byers. We see her scream as the roof of her house rips open, crying out for parents who won't arrive in time.
It’s the warning that the Upside Down is no longer contained. And we, with full stomachs and a slight headache, remain hypnotized, wondering if we are truly ready for another Stranger Things marathon, or if we are simply fulfilling the ritual of saying goodbye to characters who, just like us, have aged five years in what felt like a blink of an eye.
