The mall in the 1980s was not just “a place to go” or “something to do,” so much as hallowed ground where one could see and be seen. It would persist in this role into the 90s and early 00s as well, but there was no glossier time for this American bastion of capitalist consumerism than the decade of Reagan, New Coke, Madonna (with her sardonic ode to the best things in life not being for free, “Material Girl”) and, of course, a love of brand mascots like the old lady suggestively shouting “Where’s the Beef?” for an Arby’s commercial.
Where once Americans were hopelessly devoted to corporations–a phenomenon known as brand loyalty–and would never dream that they could feel betrayed by the fundamental tenets of capitalism, there is now no trust in anything, least of all an “economic system” as clearly flawed as the one whose sole purpose appears to be to sustain a dying version of the fable of the American dream on its last legs.
But oh, let’s not think of that now, when we can simply look to Stranger Things‘ third season for our fix of nostalgia and mall porn in between its showcasing of special effects that clearly make it the overt favorite of Netflix for production budget expenditures. For those who remember season two, it should come as no surprise that the Mind Flayer is back, and though not necessarily “better” than ever, at least larger. And more learned in its abilities to infect and control. In need of a new subject to take over and puppeteer, the Flayer sets his tentacles on MILF-fetishist/son of Steff from Pretty in Pink and Leo from Twin Peaks, Billy Hargrove (Dacre Montgomery). On duty all summer as a lifeguard at the pool where he shamelessly ogles and lets himself be ogled by the row of middle class trophy wives lounging as their children swim, he sets his sights specifically on Mrs. Wheeler (Cara Buono), who is very clearly choosing her bathing suits with him in mind. When he suggests he give her some private lessons at the Motel 6 just at the edge of town, she reluctantly agrees. It is on the way to this rendezvous that Billy becomes entangled with the lurking and developing presence of the Mind Flayer (who has incorporated rats into his test plot for domination that will soon apply to humans). Like any easily swayable constituent in a U.S. election, Billy is a vulnerable target, but at the same time, doesn’t like to be forced to do anything without it at least seeming like he made his own decision. Alas, the Mind Flayer is no master in the art of gentle cajoling and soon has his human “head of the hive” in place. As Billy sets out to blankly do his master’s bidding (much like the devoted drone of any politician with some demagogic–not to be confused with “Demogorgonic”–platforms), Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) and Mike’s (Finn Wolfhard) escalating feelings for one another manifest on a physical level that seems to make Hopper (David Harbour) physically ill.
Turning to the only person he can talk to about much of anything, Joyce (Winona Ryder), she instructs him to simply talk to “the kids” on their level, you know, have a “heart-to-heart.” This as she slaps Tampax boxes (so much product placement–just so, so much product placement) with price stickers, making it perhaps somewhat difficult for Hopper to take her completely seriously. Not that he was ever going to be capable of taking the advice anyway, his struggle to confront anything emotional being part of his hard-won brutish charm. Instead, he takes an old tack, essentially telling Mike, if you see my daughter again in any way that isn’t under my terms, I’ll kill you. Mike takes the threat to heart, prompting him to, for the first time in the relationship, lie to El. Something she doesn’t take too kindly to as she turns to the only other girl in the gang, Max (Sadie Sink), for some advice. Eager to school her in all the ways that “there’s more to life than boys,” she takes her to none other than Starcourt, the mall that has put most small businesses in Hawkins out to pasture and that has become the summer place to be.
Shining in its neon lights and impressive in its sheer massiveness, it could only be right that El’s first proper shopping spree is montaged to the tune of “Material Girl,” for even after it came out in November of 1984, the Like A Virgin album from which it was spawned remained the pervasive anthem of the decade. Taking place in the episode fittingly entitled, “Mallrats,” Max is like the ultimate American capitalist taking a Soviet commie under her wing, asking with an air of the Pied Piper in her voice, “You’ve never been shopping before, have you?” El shakes her head no, to which Maxine replies, “Well then, I guess we’re just gonna have to try everything.”
The joys of capitalism are not totally hollow, as indicated by Max teaching El how to engage in the art of self-expression through the sartorial when El asks, “How do I know what I like?” Max shrugs, “You just try things on until you find something that feels like you.” Incredulously, El repeats, “‘Like me’?” Max assures, “Yeah. Not Hopper. Not Mike.” And while it is somewhat unfortunate that a woman must claim her independence and individuality from men and the patriarchy at large through the very frills with which they are condemned for and relegated to being “the second sex,” it, at the very least, repurposes these frills into something of greater substance when taken into the context of being a declaration of independence. Of course, it’s also no coincidence that The Duffer Brothers set the buildup to the finale of the season to coincide with Independence Day. The Fourth of July being a time when American patriotism (and all the veneers that come with it) is on a particularly high dose of steroids. That too, is what the mall is all about. An endless abyss of everything and nothing a person could ever want. Glamor shots (another 80s emblem) surely not being on the list of “nothing” someone would want as Max and El take to Flash Studio to memorex the latter’s first foray into what it truly means to be an American: mass consumption.
That “the Russians” (that all-encompassing general term meant to be equated with something sinister and evil) are in control of the entire operation that is Starcourt is a pointed commentary on the present as well, in which the Russians have now opted to exert their insidious dominance over the U.S. via social media subversion (and other targeted internet insertions, to be sure). As the constant source of villainry in the 80s, the resurgence of this trope in pop culture was at its most flagrant in 2018’s Red Sparrow (not to be confused with 1984’s Red Dawn, another Soviet-paranoia movie that, of course, gets referenced in this season). And is most certainly what Prince would call a “sign o’ the times.”
On that note, the symbolic scene of Eleven sitting in front of a freezer section filled with Eggos with an American flag bandana tied around her eyes as she concentrates on finding Dustin is a visual manifestation of where we’re at: yes, something within the American people innately knows they’re dealing with insidious corporate (which always translates to government) agendas looming behind them, but they have been blinded by the indoctrination that comes with congenital patriotism for so long that they can’t quite find it within themselves to take off the blindfold (though perhaps it’s a congenital patriotism not on the same level as Russians, who, were they not indoctrinated to live and die for country, could surely see that the place and its tenets are a black hole).
To the point of homogeneity as being the goal for most people not just in the 80s–the intense desire to fit in stemming from the accusatory vibes of the Cold War–but in the present when immigrants are the enemy once again, there is the fact that Eleven is spared from the Mind Flayer at one point as a result of her everyone is everyone Gap shirt. A mass produced piece of clothing designed to make a teenager feel endlessly “on-trend” by picking out what’s already been pre-selected for them from a shelf or rack at a store in the mall. It is because the mannequin is wearing the same shirt that the Mind Flayer mistakes it for Eleven herself, annihilating the wrong target. The sameness intended to protect people from standing out very much doing just that for El.
Unfortunately some people in the narrative of the third season are doomed to stand out to those they really don’t want to, case in point being the Russian scientist behind establishing the key for the reopening of the portal that’s got the Mind Flayer out and about with no supervision. Alexei (Alec Utgoff) is, like El in the mall with Max, utterly taken in by the tinsel of American life as he follows Murray Bauman (Brett Gelman) into the town fun fair put on by Mayor Larry Kline (80s heartthrob in his own right, Cary Elwes) to help spur his effortless reelection (despite being the one who sold all this commercial land to the Russians). It is Gelman who gently asks Alexei, expected to be left behind while he goes into the fair, “Who said you had to be an American to join the fun?” This metaphorical phrase is, indeed, what was once the foundation of a country that everyone wanted to be a part of, but now literally cannot.
As Bauman serves as Alexei’s guide to excess and “freedom,” he waxes, “It doesn’t get more American than this, my friend. Fatty foods, ugly decadence, rigged games…” Alexei can’t believe the latter assertion, making sure he heard correctly by querying, “They are rigged, these games?” Bauman categorically affirms, “Yes.” Appraising the scenes of children and adults alike tossing objects at walls in the hope of knocking them down for a prize, he maintains, “They do not look rigged.” Bauman scoffs at his naivety, “That’s just it, my dear Alexei. They have been designed to present the illusion of fairness. But it’s all a scam, a trick to put your money in the rich man’s pocket. That, my dear friend, is America.”
It was in the 1980s and sure as hell is now. But at least we had splashier tableaus to distract ourselves in… like the once sacred ground that was The Mall. Manipulated by the Russians or not, it never stopped an American from enjoying his means of applying a numbing agent.
