Warning: Contains Spoilers
In light of the recent conclusion of Netflix’s most-watched show and global cultural phenomenon, Stranger Things, let’s take a moment to revisit what remains to this day the most powerful and defining storyline of the series. I am, of course, referring to episodes 1-4 of Season 4, specifically the subplot of Max’s struggle to overcome Vecna’s curse, culminating in the famous “Running Up That Hill” sequence where she finally finds the strength to break free. What makes this storyline so compelling is that it serves as an allegory for depression. Vecna is a metaphor for Satan (the accuser), Vecna’s curse symbolizes hopelessness, and the gruesome death the curse causes reflects what inevitably happens to all who give in to despair.
Recap:
Vecna’s first victim is Chrissy Cunningham, the “Queen of Hawkins,” a popular cheerleader dating the captain of the basketball team. On the surface, Chrissy seems to live a happy and purposeful life, but inside, she struggles with shame over her body image. Flashbacks of Chrissy’s childhood show her mother shaming her for not fitting into her dress, calling her a ‘fat pig’. By showing Chrissy these visions, Vecna reinforces her idea that she lacks beauty and negatively impacts her self-worth.
The second victim is Fred Benson, a young teenager who caused a fatal car crash and drove away from the wreck, leaving the victim to die rather than calling for help and facing the consequences of his actions. Vecna shows Fred visions of the victim crying for help at the crash and his family at the funeral calling Fred a murderer.
Now enter Max Mayfield–our protagonist and Vecna’s third victim. Ever since the death of Max’s brother Billy, her life has gone completely downhill. Max’s stepfather has abandoned her, she’s had to move to a trailer park with her mom, and she has been pushing her friends away to cope with her shame. Like Chrissy, Max puts on a show of being happy while suffering on the inside. Whenever Lucas or her friends ask her to open up, Max simply responds “I’m fine” and pushes them away. Even when Max realizes that Vecna is targeting her, she initially cannot bring herself to open up to her friends, instead choosing to write them letters to read in case she dies (Lucas: “I don’t want a letter, just talk to me, to your friends.”) Like Fred, Max’s depression stems from “survivor’s guilt”–internalized shame and self-loathing. Not only does Max feel ashamed of simply watching when Billy died, but it is also heavily implied that she feels some relief over his death. This is understandable, as Billy was rather abusive towards Max, but these thoughts cause her to feel even more ashamed, something that Vecna exploits in his attack. Vecna: “You think some letters are going to make things right? You’ve broken everything.” Max (to Billy’s grave): “I imagine pulling you away, if I had you’d still be here.” Billy (Vecna in disguise): “I think there’s a part of you that wanted me to die that day… that’s why you just stood there, isn’t it… that is why you feel such guilt, why you hide from your friends, why late at night you have sometimes wished to follow me into death. That is why I am here, to end your suffering, once and for all.” Like anyone suffering from depression, Max cannot be happy no matter how hard she tries (Max: “I’ve tried to be happy, but a part of me died that day, too.”)
Max resembles Fred and Chrissy in every way related to depression. She even visits the same therapist as they do, who diagnoses them with the same symptoms, including constant headaches and nightmares. Thus, we fully expect that Max’s fate will be the same horrific death that Fred and Chrissy suffered, especially in the final scene of episode 4, when she starts to lift in the air. But then, Max catches a glimmer of the one thing that saves her—the one thing that separates her from Vecna’s other victims: hope. When Max’s friends put on her favorite song, “Running Up That Hill”, a tunnel out of the mind prison Vecna has trapped her in opens up. At the end of the tunnel are Max’s friends (portrayed literally as a light at the end of a dark tunnel), crying out for her to wake up. And after months of suffering, forgetting what happiness feels like, Max finally remembers her life before Billy’s death, back when she was truly happy. Memories (season 2 and 3 flashbacks) swiftly return–summertime adventures with friends, the middle school dance with Lucas, and his words from earlier: “I don’t want a letter… we’re right here, I’m right here.” This gives Max the strength to fight and escape back to the real world, her friends, and a second chance at life.
Analysis:
Despite all the magic and fantasy, this story is really just about three people struggling with shame and depression, each with their own way of coping. In fact, if you completely removed Vecna, nothing would really change. Chrissy, who turned to drugs to cope with her struggle, would likely die a painful death from overdose. Fred, who refuses to take accountability, would likely commit suicide after feeling constant, torturous shame over his actions. And even if these two did not die a physical death, they would most certainly die a spiritual death–spending day after day suffering only to, at the end, look back and realize they wasted their lives. Only Max could possibly find new life, because only Max chose hope over despair. For Max, music reminded her of happy memories, giving her hope that she could experience true friendship again and be happy like before.
Max shows us that even the tiniest spark of hope–something as simple as a favorite song or memories with friends–can ignite new life. A spark of hope lights action and change, which leads to even more hope. And soon enough, the faintest idea that things could improve grows into a confident expectation of what the future holds. History is full of such examples. At the beginning of the Reconquista, the only hope for Christianity lay with the small, impoverished kingdom of Asturias in the mountains. Yet from this mustard seed of hope, faced against the might of the Umayyad Caliphate, emerged the Spanish Empire after 8 centuries of struggle. When Christianity was on the brink of annihilation, the slightest glimmer of hope in Asturias rekindled it–not just across Spain, but, in time, throughout the New World.
Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?” He replied, “Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:19-20 NIV
Now let’s take a closer look at Fred. We know Fred got away with manslaughter the year before and refuses to turn himself in (which is why he’s not in prison now). While Fred feels remorse, he refuses to repent, and so he continues to live in shame. This mirrors what Judas Iscariot did after betraying Jesus. Judas refused to face the consequences of his actions, to face God and ask for forgiveness, because he believed he was beyond redemption. Like Judas, Fred could have found peace if he had chosen hope. If Fred had simply confessed, served his prison sentence, and dedicated the rest of his life to doing good, he could have found redemption as well. And a redeemed person is essentially a brand new person, free from the shame of his past actions. Admittedly, it would require far greater faith and conviction for Fred to see hope in his situation than it would for Max or Chrissy. But this just goes to show that the worse one’s circumstances are, the more essential hope becomes.
Throughout life, everybody will suffer through periods of depression and despair making it impossible to remember or imagine being happy. Many will also suffer from shame: the humiliation and mental anguish that arise from believing they are permanently broken, a lie that Satan accuses all people of. However, we can all break free of this curse through hope: to seek redemption and overcome our shame, to find what makes life worth living and a cause worth fighting for, and, in doing so, overcome our depression. Believe, for with a mustard seed of hope, nothing is impossible.
Eric Chen is a freshman at Cornell in the College of Arts and Science
