I attended the finale of Stranger Things in the cinema and something quite bizarre occurred.

The parking structure was overflowing. That’s the first Strange Thing.

Some context. Nearly every shopping mall is struggling right now, but the Neshaminy Mall in Bensalem, Pennsylvania is essentially on life support. As Defector’s Dan McQuade, a lifelong Pennsylvanian and mall enthusiast, detailed in his heartfelt tribute to the mall, the once lively complex is now predominantly a desolate shadow of itself, with half of it slated for demolition. There are merely two solid reasons to visit: a well-stocked Barnes & Noble and the AMC theater.

And people do frequent the movie theater. It’s among only three cinemas in the Philly area boasting an IMAX screen, attracting fans of premium formats. I often find myself there as a critic, and the IMAX auditorium is typically packed. However, the parking lot outside the theater at 8PM on New Year’s Eve, the night it’s screening Stranger Things 5: The Finale, was on another scale. The snack line was daunting (tickets were complimentary, but to secure a seat, attendees purchased a $20 concession voucher), and waits for anything beyond popcorn, soft drinks, and candy were considerable. The excitement was palpable. It was the most populated I’d seen a cinema since Barbenheimer.

This was unsettling. I knew, conceptually, that Stranger Things was significant. Netflix, famously secretive yet ruthless in axing shows that fail to meet undisclosed standards, has consistently treated this series as its Avengers or Star Wars. Routine PR releases boast impressive statistics, new episodes causing the platform to crash, and the cast and branding appear in promotions and merch deals that no other Netflix show receives. Season 4 revived Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” back onto the charts, among various nostalgic hits the series has returned to prominence. Even within the questionable realm of streaming metrics, it’s evident Stranger Things boasts a vast following and remains a sensation, even if later installments aren’t critically embraced like the inaugural season was. However, it can often be more challenging to realize this.

Numerous factors could contribute: a fragmented internet landscape, the broad and selective nature of online fan communities, Netflix’s conversation-silencing binge-release model, and extended breaks between seasons that extinguished any sense of excitement. The show itself also plays a role. Dissecting Stranger Things isn’t overly complex; the narrative has largely conveyed its intentions clearly. There was no enigma that its characters couldn’t unravel, no allusion that the creators wouldn’t expound on (either personally or through the narrative), and its storyline primarily focused on life outside of Hawkins, Indiana. Even the Upside Down, the show’s nightmarish alternate dimension, is portrayed as so empty and desolate that the concluding season identifies it as a conduit rather than a location, connecting our reality to the actual realm of the show’s eerie monsters. (Additionally, another unexpectedly barren environment.)

In practice, this positions Stranger Things as a series that feels intricate, yet is straightforward to follow. This accessibility encourages a diverse audience to view it together. And possibly even travel to a deserted mall on New Year’s Eve to watch it.

The second Strange Thing: According to the attendant who checked my ticket, this was the most packed she had witnessed this cinema since Black Friday 2024, when both Gladiator II and Wicked debuted. At that time, she shared that theater employees anticipated 8,000 visitors for the day. On this occasion, they expected 1,000 people to trickle in over one hour.

I witnessed entire families, many dressed in pajamas. Friends of all ages. Numerous couples. There were Hellfire Club T-shirts, Demogorgon crowns, and popcorn buckets (pre-ordered from Target). Everyone was capturing group selfies, posting pictures or Instagram Reels showcasing the crowded concessions area. It’s New Year’s Eve, and everyone is enjoying themselves.

In the snack line behind me, I met a woman named Gia who attended with her daughters. They had been watching together since the inaugural season in 2016 and appreciate the show’s thrilling pace, “with lots going on.” They expressed their anxiety about the finale, “worried that people might die.”

There was a lot of that kind of chatter. I overheard someone speculate that Dustin was going to perish, in spite of Steve’s attempts to rescue him. Just before showtime in the restroom, a teenager complained about how long his younger brother was taking to wash his hands. “I swear to god,” he exclaimed. “If I miss a single fucking minute of this I’ll kill myself.”

I encountered a couple, Adam and Tiffany, who drove an hour to attend. Recently engaged and in their late 20s and early 30s, they began watching Stranger Things separately, as teenagers, before they started enjoying it together. (He claimed this was season 3; she insisted it was 4.)

“I appreciate the nostalgia it evokes for me, even though I didn’t grow up in the ’80s,” Adam shared. He grew up watching E.T. and The Goonies, fostering a connection to that time despite his youth. He was also drawn to the government conspiracy themes. “In the first season, it was quite pronounced, with the MK Ultra narrative it depicted. People were unaware, and it was a brilliant way to inform them. I treasure the spirit of the first season, and it kind of persists, especially in the most recent season — the government doesn’t always prioritize your welfare.”

Tiffany, on her end, feels as though “we have really come to know and cherish all the characters, you know? I’m not prepared to cry tonight.”

I have to admit I was continually amazed by all of this. I’ve become accustomed to the disjointed way most contemporary entertainment is consumed and discussed — often with hesitance, as everyone triangulates how much of which series they’ve watched and can discuss. Sports are one of the few reliably communal experiences we still have in front of our screens. Television, as experienced by the characters in Stranger Things, was a shared affair, in communal settings where the screen contended for focus amidst surrounding life. In contrast, television as fans of Stranger Things have engaged with it is largely solitary, watched on smartphones, tablets, or televisions at one’s own pace.

One last Strange Thing: Even for me, a Stranger Things detractor, experiencing the finale in a full house was genuinely awe-inspiring. The audience cheered frequently: when beloved character Steve Harrington (Joe Keery) is saved from imminent peril by his adversary Jonathan Byers (Charlie Heaton); when newly beloved character Derek Turnbow (Jake Connelly) flips the villainous Vecna the bird with his line “Suck my fat one!”; when Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) confronts the colossal, spider-like Mind Flayer during the gripping climax. When a character is presumed dead, a wave of sniffles cascades through the audience.

There is a genuineness to Stranger Things that stands in stark contrast to the cynicism of its advertisements and imitators. The Duffer brothers are avid copyists who are eager to share their influences, yet they’ve always been transparent about their intentions with Stranger Things. Regardless of the discordant elements they’ve infused into the show as it evolved in every conceivable direction, hopping from genre to genre in often arbitrary ways, it remains a coming-of-age tale about the myriad paths to growing up.

This is the show’s hidden strength, as it not only focuses on the four D&D-playing kids aging but also their older siblings nearing adulthood or their parents who fell into detrimental patterns and required their own growth. In this concluding season, the series embraced its maturity, introducing younger siblings who are about to confront challenges akin to those faced by the core four; nurturing them symbolizes their final progression towards adulthood.

Stranger Things’ intense emphasis on nostalgia can sometimes overshadow the present context it aired in, and the experience of growing up during that time. For those who were children watching it, it was a time when Donald Trump was first elected, when covid-19 disrupted life as we knew it, and when social media allowed our deepest fears to reach us directly. The personal Upside Down.

“Life has treated you so unfairly, so harshly,” Jim Hopper (David Harbour) tells his adopted daughter early in the finale, as Eleven contemplates her potential sacrifice against Vecna, believing that she no longer has a place in this world. He urges her to fight to envision a life beyond the despair. “I know you feel you can’t have any of this. But I assure you, we will discover a way to bring it to fruition. You will find a way to make it happen because you must. Because you deserve it.”

This is dialogue that blurs the boundary between fiction and reality, breaking free from the Hawkins / Upside Down of this movie-infused depiction of 1987 to crash directly into the closing moments of 2025. The crowded theater filled with fans, young and old, amid families, partners, and friends, snapping selfies and shouting, didn’t merely spend a decade with characters they feel connected to. They’ve matured together, and witnessed one another grow amidst turmoil. The kids, young adults, and grown-ups of Stranger Things have shared in the hardships with them. An outrageous, nonsensical phantasmagoria that has, in various ways, altered them beyond recognition from who they were a decade ago, just as bookish Nancy Wheeler (Natalia Dyer) has evolved into a rifle-wielding monster hunter.

Crowning the end of that journey in a theater brimming with those who shared it with you? What a spectacular way to conclude a year. What a wonderful sentiment to begin anew, stepping back into the world alongside fellow fans in search of reality.