Stranger Things Season 5 finale review: A flawed but raw and honest farewell, with a note of hope

After an uneven, rushed run of episodes, Stranger Things Season 5 finally does the one thing it should have trusted all along: its audience. The finale may not be the ending most fans were hoping for, but it leans decisively into what made the series such a phenomenon in the first place—friendship and love. Emotion bursts through the seams here, largely without contrivance, reminding us why this story mattered even when it faltered.

The finale finally sets the stage for the long-awaited war between Eleven and Vecna—a confrontation that arguably should have arrived much earlier. In doing so, the show returns to what works best: keeping Eleven as its emotional heartbeat. There are still a few splashes of clichéd dialogue, but far fewer than in the rest of the season, and at this point, you take what you get.

(A wild thought: Stranger Things might have worked better if Season 5 were simply a 2.5-hour finale, sparing us several unnecessary episodes.) For a fleeting moment, the series even tempts us into believing Vecna (Jamie Campbell Bower) may retain a trace of humanity. But Stranger Things has always been clear—it’s about the choices you make.

And Vecna has made his.

And for a choice like that, you must suffer. Vecna suffers.

In one of the best scenes of the show that is the most rewatchable part of the entire Season 5, there’s a series of flashbacks that show what Vecna took from each of the Hawkins crew. Joyce Byers (Winona Ryder) relives the horror of watching her pre-teen lose his childhood and be consumed by nightmares, as does her elder son, Jonathan.

Nancy is reminded of the night that changed her life completely: Losing her best friend, Barbara, only because of her choice of staying with Steve that night. Choices, choices that make us and break us.

Mike’s fear has always been losing Eleven, and for good reason, as Eleven’s entire character trajectory hinges on the probability of a sacrifice.

There is a closure of most of the arcs, even if might not be what most wanted. Jonathan (Charlie Heaton) and Steve Harrington (Joe Kreery) insist on having discussions about their shared love interest, Nancy (Natalia Dyer), when the world is on the verge of ending. Nancy could care less however about either of them; she understandably just wants to save her little sister from those dratted vines.

Nancy is powerful and independent, a point that the show drives across with the subtlety of a battering ram. Independence doesn’t mean you can’t have a love story—a misconception filmmakers seem increasingly drawn to lately. Independence is complex; it isn’t a one-dimensional trait tied solely to romantic involvement. This is where the writing falters: the resolution of her relationship with Jonathan still feels sketchy. They fell in love because of the scars they shared, yet it never felt like a trauma bond—even if the Duffer Brothers now insist it was. Instead, it felt raw and deeply visceral: two people learning to heal themselves and each other. It would have been instructive to see them both work towards a closure.

But we will be fair. Perhaps, this closure isn’t what we need.

Truth to be told, what is closure really, for anyone who has suffered as much as Hawkins? It’s just the closest we get to a bittersweet acceptance of our scars. And the Hawkins crew does, even if the scars remain. Karen Wheeler will always have hers.

As for the deaths everyone feared, the show largely holds back—but when it does strike, it plunges the knife without hesitation, taking a daring step that is unlikely to sit well with sections of the fandom.And as the series comes to a close—ending where it began, around a game of Dungeons & Dragons—it reminds us, in the words of The Shawshank Redemption, hope is the most beautiful thing. And no good thing ever dies.

Mike's childlike optimism stays with us, and we hold on to it, even as the show ends on a quietly ambiguous note with tears.

You can write your own endings.  

Like Mike, choose to write one that ends with three waterfalls, in a land, far, far away.