By Harshit
HAWKINS, IND., JANUARY 1, 2026
Spoiler alert: The following review contains major plot details from the series finale of Stranger Things, titled “The Rightside Up.”
After nine years, five seasons, and enough Dungeons & Dragons terminology to permanently embed itself into pop culture, Stranger Things has finally come to an end. The question many fans have been asking is simple: was it worth the wait?
The answer, unfortunately, is complicated.
The two-hour, movie-length finale — released simultaneously on Netflix and in select theaters — throws absolutely everything at the screen: apocalyptic stakes, colossal monsters, flamethrowers, emotional confessions, fake-out deaths, one real death, and a cascade of epilogues. What it lacks, however, is focus. The result is an ending that feels overstuffed, uneven, and oddly muted for a series that once thrived on intimacy and restraint.
It is not a disaster. But it is not the triumphant sendoff this cultural juggernaut seemed to demand.
From Small-Scale Sci-Fi to Franchise Behemoth
At its core, Stranger Things was once a modest sci-fi mystery inspired by 1980s films like E.T. and The Goonies. Over time, it evolved into something far larger — a global Netflix flagship built on spectacle, CGI excess, and nostalgia callbacks.
By the time “The Rightside Up” begins, subtlety is long gone. Emotional nuance is replaced by monologues delivered mid-apocalypse, and narrative logic frequently bends — or snaps — to accommodate one more “big moment.”
The finale picks up immediately after the Christmas Day cliffhanger, with Vecna (Jamie Campbell Bower) attempting to merge his collapsing realm with Earth. The imagery is unsettling, but the mechanics are fuzzy, even by Stranger Things standards. Characters split up, reunite, split again, and somehow find time for multiple heartfelt conversations while the universe is actively ending.
Too Many Threads, Not Enough Weight
One of the finale’s biggest weaknesses is its refusal to slow down and let consequences land.
Steve nearly dies — but doesn’t. Vecna nearly dies — but doesn’t. The Upside Down is nearly destroyed — until it isn’t. The story repeatedly builds tension only to deflate it moments later, making the eventual emotional beats feel unearned.
The biggest reveal — that Vecna is ultimately not the true villain, but merely an extension of the Mind Flayer — feels like a narrative retreat. After spending two seasons humanizing Vecna as a psychologically grounded antagonist, the show pivots back to an abstract, oversized monster. The shift undermines much of what made Vecna compelling in the first place.
Going bigger, it turns out, was not the same as going deeper.
Eleven’s Sacrifice — and the Show’s Final Trick
The emotional centerpiece of the finale is Eleven’s apparent sacrifice. As the Upside Down collapses, she remains behind, choosing to save everyone else at the cost of her own life. It’s staged with operatic drama, complete with a psychic farewell to Mike set to Prince’s “Purple Rain.”
It works — briefly.
But the show undercuts its own gravity by immediately introducing a theory that Eleven may have faked her death with Kali’s help. The characters collectively “choose to believe” she survived, blurring the line between hope and narrative hedging.
It’s a fitting metaphor for the finale as a whole: unwilling to commit fully to tragedy, yet unable to craft something truly triumphant.
An Overlong, Overexplained Epilogue
The final 40 minutes function almost entirely as an extended epilogue set 18 months later. Everyone is happy. The military apparently faces no consequences. Trauma is neatly resolved. Careers are set. Relationships are affirmed.
We see:
- Steve as a teacher and coach
- Hopper and Joyce engaged
- Dustin as valedictorian
- The kids graduating and moving on
The sentimentality becomes overwhelming. What once felt heartfelt now borders on indulgent, as if the show is afraid to stop saying goodbye.
The final scene — younger kids taking over the D&D table — is meant as a poetic passing of the torch. Instead, it feels like a blunt metaphor delivered without irony or restraint.
So… Was the Finale Any Good?
In the spectrum of TV finales, Stranger Things lands safely above the infamy of Game of Thrones or How I Met Your Mother. But it falls well short of the elegance of Breaking Bad or The Sopranos.
Too many questions remain unanswered. Too many characters are reduced to their simplest traits. And too much time is spent reassuring the audience instead of challenging them.
Perhaps there was no perfect way to end a show this large — one that became bigger in the culture than on screen. But there is something quietly disappointing about ending it exactly where it began: in a basement, around a game table, as if none of these characters ever grew beyond the archetypes the story assigned them.
In the end, Stranger Things chose comfort over courage.
And maybe that’s fine. But it’s hard not to wish it had dared to be a little stranger.