Set in March 1986, Stranger Things season four swings big—and mostly sticks the landing. Splitting its story across Hawkins, California, and a Soviet prison camp, the season embraces a sprawling, almost epic structure. On paper, that sounds bloated. In practice, it deepens the mythology, sharpens character arcs, and delivers the darkest chapter of the series so far.
The Hawkins storyline is the backbone and easily the strongest. A string of brutal, supernatural murders rocks the town, immediately shifting the show into full-on horror mode. Enter Eddie Munson, leader of the Hellfire Club, who becomes the perfect scapegoat after Chrissy Cunningham dies in his trailer. Eddie is a phenomenal addition—charismatic, tragic, and painfully human. Joseph Quinn gives him instant soul, making his outsider status feel earned rather than cartoonish. Watching Dustin, Lucas, Max, Steve, Nancy, Robin, and Erica rally to clear his name feels like classic Stranger Things camaraderie, just drenched in dread.
The introduction of Vecna is a game-changer. He’s not just another monster—he’s personal. Intelligent, cruel, and psychologically invasive, Vecna weaponizes trauma itself. Jamie Campbell Bower absolutely devours the role, delivering one of the best antagonists the show—and honestly television—has offered. The mythology surrounding Vecna, tied to Hawkins Lab and the Upside Down’s origins, finally gives the series a true “big bad” with weight and intention.
Max’s arc is the emotional heart of the season. Her isolation, grief over Billy, and quiet resignation are devastating, and Sadie Sink delivers career-best work. Lucas’ storyline—torn between social survival and loyalty—adds grounded realism, making his choices feel genuinely difficult. Will, unfortunately, continues to fade into the background after season one, serving more as emotional support than narrative driver, which remains a missed opportunity.
The California plotline is more uneven. Eleven’s journey to reclaim her powers forces her to confront her trauma head-on, reframing her past as something tragic rather than mysterious. Millie Bobby Brown remains excellent, though the storyline leans heavily on exposition. Argyle, while meant as comic relief, never fully clicks and often feels like dead weight in an otherwise tense arc. Still, Mike and Will’s dynamic adds emotional texture, especially as Will’s unspoken struggles quietly simmer.
The Russian storyline is surprisingly effective. Hopper’s survival doesn’t cheapen his season three sacrifice; instead, it reinforces his endurance and guilt. David Harbour sells Hopper’s physical and emotional exhaustion, while Dmitri Antonov stands out as a likable, morally conflicted ally. Joyce and Murray’s rescue mission adds levity without undercutting the stakes, and the Soviet Demogorgon sequences are brutal and memorable.
In the end, Stranger Things Season 4 feels massive—long episodes, high stakes, and devastating consequences. The scale is bigger, the horror sharper, and the characters more broken. Despite minor pacing issues and a few weaker additions, this is Stranger Things at its most confident and ambitious. Stranger Things Season 4 gets 4 out of 5.
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