Steve Harrington Deserved A Better Ending Than Stranger Things Gave Him

Editor’s note: This piece discusses the finale of Stranger Things, so there are obviously going to be spoilers. Consider yourselves warned if you are, like this author, a dork and plan to watch the show.

Stranger Things concluded its fifth and final season with a two-hour New Year’s Eve release, nearly a decade after the vanishing of Will Byers launched a new era of Netflix original programming.

Expectations for the final season rose to the heavens in the four years since the fourth season of Stranger Things. Fans were almost certain to be disappointed — and boy, were they.

Initial waves of criticism gave way to a truly strange mass psychosis wherein superfans have convinced themselves that the series finale was actually a fake, and that creators Matt and Ross Duffer were waiting to drop the actual finale in the coming days.

Those of us who did not develop a parasocial relationship with Gaten Matarazzo realized this was bunk from the start. But for those really pinning their hopes to these theories, Netflix has made it clear that Stranger Things is done. The finale we got was the finale we’re going to get. And yes, there are plenty of things to criticize with that episode, as with the whole final season: the bad dialogue, the continuity errors, the lazy acting.

But I don’t want to talk about any of that. I want to talk about Steve Harrington.

The fan-favorite character has gone on quite a journey. He began as a stereotypical 1980s jock, Nancy Wheeler’s unlikable boyfriend who bristles at her intelligence and beats up the nerds. The Duffer Brothers planned to kill him off at the end of season one, but they found themselves so charmed by Joe Keery’s performance that they reversed course.

And then they did more than that: they gave Steve warmth and depth unmatched by any other character. Over the course of the show, he not only accepts Nancy’s independence but also her relationship with Jonathan Byers, one of the dorks he once beat up. He becomes a friend and mentor to the younger children, constantly putting his life on the line for their safety. And he grows close with Hawke’s character, Robin, accepting her quirkiness without a second thought.

This character development was so effective that, in the run-up to the finale, fans made it clear that Steve’s death was the outcome they most feared. Fortunately for the legions of Harringtonians out there, Steve survives his final journey to a parallel dimension and makes it safely back to Hawkins.

But that’s where things go off the rails.

In the show’s penultimate scene, we see the cadre of older Hawkins kids reminiscing on the rooftop of the town radio station. Jonathan is making anti-capitalist films at NYU. Robin is dating girls at Smith. Nancy reveals that she’s dropped out of Emerson to work as a journalist full-time, and has a girlboss haircut and blazer to prove it.

And what of Steve? Did he settle down and start having the six children he’s been so vocal about wanting? Did his repeated encounters with the supernatural inspire him to seek out a change of scenery? Or did he join up with the Hawkins police department as Hopper’s deputy, harnessing the skills he honed defending the world from Vecna?

No, while all his friends move on to bigger and better things, Steve is still in Hawkins, coaching the high school baseball team. And lest it seem like Steve’s adventures with all those plucky kids had inspired him to pursue a career in education, the finale makes it clear: this is just the path of least resistance. Steve Harrington is a loser.

As he grabs another beer in his poorly-fitting suit, his friends mock the fact that, in addition to his coaching duties, Steve is also teaching sex education. Steve gives them plenty of fodder for their ribbing, noting that he has “a strict A policy, B if you’re a real knucklehead.”

There are jokes about him cycling through a series of vapid women, so clearly his plans for domestic bliss haven’t panned out. And lest you miss the point, he delivers this sad little monologue to all his posh friends in which he expresses his utter disbelief that they would ever want to leave Hawkins!

“Come on, I mean, look at this place!” Steve bellows while looking wistfully at the horizon. “The sunset, the view. Woo! You guys are seriously telling me you don’t miss any of this? The forest, the quarry? Family Video?”

This is the most unforgivable part. We’re meant to believe that after all this time — after years of personal growth and confrontations with mortality, to say nothing of countless trips to an alternate dimension — Steve Harrington is just another hometown hero who can’t fathom why anyone would want to leave the glory days behind.

The problem isn’t that Steve didn’t want to leave Hawkins, or that he wanted to become a coach. Those are both fine choices for a young man to make, and consistent with the character we’ve grown to know and love. It’s the myopia, the pigheaded jock mentality that makes everyone roll their eyes, that feels like a betrayal. Steve doesn’t like the community or the fact that Hawkins is his home. He likes the quarry and the video store, the two lamest and most generic things you could think to name. It’s a last-second reversion to Season 1 Steve, a fundamentally uncurious brute whose gaze extended no further than the Friday night lights at Hawkins High.

To the Duffer brothers’ credit, Steve’s ending isn’t entirely inconsistent with the show’s finale. The epilogue is very John Hughes, an effective tonal shift back to the 1980s nostalgia that launched the show, vibes that played second fiddle to the supernatural in later seasons.

But the return to authentic 1989 didn’t stop the Duffer brothers from showing two openly gay characters living easy lives, or a girl graduating high school despite having spent the past two years in a coma — to say nothing of, you know, the aliens. Disbelief can be suspended, it seems, so long as it serves the narrative. And that narrative can’t countenance the jock being anything other than kind of sad.

To be clear: I don’t think this is some grand neo-Marxist conspiracy to make kids eschew small-town life in favor of more degenerate pursuits like journalism. This is just another instance of a tiresome Revenge of the Nerds mentality we see all the time among creatives.

It doesn’t matter that the Duffer Brothers created one of the most popular shows of the decade, one that largely owes its popularity to the shocking transformation of its stereotypical jock character. They probably got bullied for making home movies in high school, and so the cool guy had to be a loser in the end.

Maybe it isn’t that malicious. Maybe the Duffers really did just get lazy, and making Steve a stereotype was just one of several ways they phoned in this final season. Either way, it’s a disappointing end to the best character arc in a mostly great show.

Steve deserved better, and so did we.