Intertextuality in Stranger Things and The Formation of Quality, Nostalgic Appeal

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INTERTEXTUALITY IN

STRANGER THINGS

AND THE

FORMATION OF NOSTALGIC, QUALITY APPEAL

Name: Evgenia Theodoridou

Student Number: 12146579

First Reader: Prof. Dr. Sudeep Dasgupta

Second Reader: Prof. Dr. Misha Kavka

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Chapter 1: Introduction

Over the past two decades, the notion of intertextuality, which in general refers to the interconnectedness between cultural texts, has come into spotlight, experiencing an intense transformation from an interpretive practice of audiences (decoding) to a stylistic strategy consciously employed by media producers (encoding) for marketing, advertising or branding purposes. Already from the early 1980s, “media critics observed that films and television shows had increasingly begun quoting and referencing other popular cultural artifacts” (Ott & Walter 429). Nowadays, it seems that this phenomenon has reached a peak, as there is not only a multitude of film remakes, reboots, sequels and adaptations, but also a large number of television shows that specifically follow a narrative littered with intertextual references, in an attempt to create a high-value product profile, marking their brand-name, as well as trigger a specific emotional audience response, commonly known as nostalgia.

In this thesis I will focus on one of the most popular series provided by Netflix, Stranger

Things, to demonstrate the ways in which the show manifests different forms of

intertextuality. I will also briefly look at how this deployment of intertextuality might relate to upping the “quality TV” appeal of the series. In this sense, I will first concentrate on a meticulous analysis of Stranger Things’ intertextual construction around a variety of 1980s socio-political and pop-culture references. Subsequently, I will suggest that the series weaponizes this intertextuality so as to establish a qualitative appeal and at the same time evoke the cultural style of nostalgia, which academics like Paul Grainge and Ryan Twomey as well as critics like J.W. McCormack have described as the most dominant aesthetic of our time.

In the first chapter, I will provide the theoretical framework of the concepts to be discussed, starting with the core one, that of intertextuality. Specifically speaking, I will delve into some of the most relevant identified dimensions of intertextuality, highlighting the convergences as well as the contradictions between them. Thus, I will begin by tracing the concept from its early formations in the field of semiotics, particularly looking at the work of Roland Barthes and Umberto Eco, while thereafter I will present its link with the commodification culture

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theory, referencing the writing of Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer. To continue with, I will examine intertextuality as a code system, especially in relation to the television medium, as scrutinized in the work of John Fiske and, finally, I will indicate its stylistic nature analyzing six different intertextual media strategies explained in contemporary essays by Brian Ott & Cameron Walter and Frank D’Angelo. After drawing these five different interpretations of intertextuality, I will continue with the theorization of ‘quality television’ discourse, centered mostly around the concept development throughout the years and the systematization of the so-called defining features, acknowledging both its multifaceted as well as controversial character.

Moving on, I will start the first analysis chapter by providing some general insight regarding the plot, the production and distribution of the chosen case study show, Stranger Things. Following that, based on Fiske’s understanding of the television text as a system structured with codes (social, technological, ideological), I will engage with Stranger Things’ ‘decoded’ intertextuality, examining a variety of social, cultural as well as political 1980s references, that invite the viewer to witness, almost unconsciously, a re-imagement of the past. In fact, after providing essential insight on the 1980s conservative American era, marked by the Reagan administration, I will proceed with my referential study, thread around some of the most controversial topics of the time: family structure, gender/identity politics as well as state-citizen and police-citizen relationship. Lastly, I will look at the interconnection developed between the codic intertextuality identified in the chapter and QTV discourses, especially the defining feature of narrative complexity, and comment on the producers’ intentions towards a nostalgic, ‘quality’ appeal.

Subsequently, in the second analysis chapter, addressing Ott & Walter’s as well as D’ Angelo’s positions on stylistic intertextuality, which brings to surface the ‘encoded’ side of the concept, I will explore Stranger Things’ intertextual construction around 1980s cinema, literature and music influences. More specifically, through the utilization of specific intertextual strategies discussed in the theory, such as pastiche, retro or self-reflexive reference, I will unravel a series of 1980s pop-culture intertextual features incorporated in the show, ranging from cinema plotlines, scenes and dialogues to literature themes and music genre characteristics, commenting at the same time on the nostalgic aesthetic applied. Last but not least, similarly to the previous chapter, I will attempt correlating Stranger Things’

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pop-culture intertextuality with the complex QTV discourse and the consequent exploitation of its status.

In conclusion, I will summarize the main remarks of the substantial analysis conducted regarding the intertextual construction of the popular Netflix show, Stranger Things, while I will thence gather and present my findings with reference to the series’ interrelation with ‘quality TV’ discourses, supporting my initial view on the exploitation of the “quality” label and capitalization of the cultural aesthetic of nostalgia.

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Chapter 2: Theoretical Framework

2.1: The Concept of Intertextuality

The notion of intertextuality is broadly used to describe the shaping of a text's meaning by another text. Modern dictionaries define it as the interconnection between similar or related texts, especially works of literature that reflect and influence the audience's interpretation of the text. Thus, it becomes clear that intertextuality signifies both the process of text transformation as well as that of the consequent audience conceptual interpretation. In what follows, I will try to deepen the understanding of the concept, tracing it from the early formations in the field of semiotics to its deployment as a marketing strategy in the contemporary media landscape, by presenting the different dimensions or interpretations identified.

Firstly, the concept will be examined in relation to semiotics, particularly the work of Roland Barthes and Umberto Eco, in an attempt to explain intertextuality through Barthes’s distinction between ‘open’ and ‘closed’ texts as well as expand on it and present Eco’s assumption that the text constitutes an open product, configured by multiple texts. Furthermore, the concept will be linked to the commodification of mass culture as it is described in the writing of Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer (mass culture theory of the Frankfurt School), exemplifying the commodified character of media texts. Subsequently, the attention will be centered on the notion of intertextuality in relation to the medium of television, discussed thoroughly in the work of John Fiske, who underlines their integral relation through a variety of “codes” (social, cultural, technical). Finally, intertextuality will be analyzed as a stylistic device, identifying different intertextual strategies in the media industry: parodic allusion, creative appropriation/inclusion and self-reflexive reference, which are clarified in a recent (2000) essay written by Brian Ott and Cameron Walter, as well as retro, pastiche and simulation, analyzed in the latest article of Frank J. D'Angelo (2009).

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2.1.1: Intertextuality and Semiotics

In his book S/Z (1974) Roland Barthes introduces the concept of intertextuality, arguing that the text is not a unified, univocal object but rather it offers a plurality of meanings. Thus, he discards the notion of the self-regulating text, emphasizing the crucial role that intertextual factors play in the semantic actualization of it. Moving beyond the structuralist approach of Ferdinand de Saussure, which acknowledged the link between sign and meaning, Barthes elaborates the post-structural concept of text ‘fragmentation’, where the texts, as he points out (20), are “broken or obliterated networks; they are many and interact, without any one of them being able to surpass the rest; [...] the text has no beginning; we gain access to it by several entrances, none of which can be authoritatively declared to be the main one”. In this sense, it becomes clear that Barthes deals with a kind of textus interruptus (Klinger 6), identifying the text’s subjectiοn to various intertextual interferences that result in meaningful excursions from the text during the process of its reading.

However, according to Barthes these intertextual conditions governing the reading process are not present in all kind of texts. The intertextuality potential of texts and their consequent reception by the audience are central in the author’s dichotomy between closed (readerly) and open (writerly) texts. A closed text for Barthes, associated particularly with the concept of classic text, is presented in a linear, traditional manner, adhering to a fixed, predetermined meaning so that the reader merely receives information. On the other hand, what he describes as an open text allows multiple or mediated interpretation by the readers, characterized by a high degree of intertextuality. The readers are positioned in control of the semantic procedure, having in their disposal a multiplicity of cultural and other ideological indicators (codes) to uncover. “The text is made of multiple writings [...] but there is one place where this multiplicity is focused and that place is the reader, not the author” (Barthes 14). Arguing that “the unity of a text lies not in its origin but in its destination” (148), Barthes acknowledges the reader as the creator of the meaning. According to him, every reader possesses different textual knowledges so the readings he/she produces are always individualized and quite distant from others. This view is extremely apparent in the example of theatrical plays, such as Shakespeare’s Macbeth or Ibsen’s A doll’s House, which are fragmented in different-most of the times-autonomous acts, and rely on the reader and his level of textual apprehension to construct the ‘catholic’ meaning.

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Expanding further this semiotic approach from Barthes, in his book The role of the reader (1979) Umberto Eco develops a host of terms to describe the semantic authority of intertextuality over reading, including inferential walks, that are the essential interpretive moves needed to decipher the narrative, unlimited semiosis, a process which signifies that the text can generate, by further semantic disclosures, every other text, and, lastly, abduction to describe the kind of inference that originates a hypothesis for an observation, leading in a conclusion, assured or not.

Moreover, he redefines the notions of ‘open’ (modernist) and ‘closed’ (classic) texts, putting in the foreground not the reader alone but the interactive relationship between the writer and the reader. Thus, Eco argues that open texts are those which work at their peak revolutions per minute only when each interpretation is reechoed by the others and vice versa. “You cannot use a text as you want, but only as the text wants you to use it. An open text, however open it be, cannot afford whatever interpretation” (Eco 9). Unlike Barthes, he believes strongly that the collaboration between the author and the reader is the key in the creation process of the meaning. He understands reading as an active cooperation that invites the reader to find in the text all the elements/clues that it does not reveal but just supposes, promises, implies. The reader then has to fill the blanks in the text and rely on the intertextuality from which the text is born and in which it merges, in order to produce an advisable interpretation of it. On the contrary, Eco perceives closed texts as “ immoderately ‘open’ to every possible interpretation” (Eco 8). He argues that the attempt of such texts to get response from a more or less precise ‘empirical’ reader and guide him in a specific interpretation/meaning, lead to an ‘aberrant decoding’.

However, despite his distinction, Eco eventually presents the popular text as a combination of these categories designating it as “a complete and ‘closed’ form, in its uniqueness as a balanced organic whole, while at the same time, constituting an ‘open’ product on account of its susceptibility to countless interpretations” (49). By admitting the social context into the analysis of reading, he assumes that the text circulates as a product and not just as an aesthetic object. Eco recognizes textually allied forms, such as those that define generic or narrative conventions pertinent to the text under consideration, but in such a way that the text is preserved as an integral unit and protected from external adulteration. A characteristic example would be those literature texts that adapt certain characteristics, such as the abstract

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writing style or the poetic spirit, of previous author’s work and demand from the reader to identify the links between them and the ‘influence’ in order to unravel the meaning. In this sense, it becomes clear that Eco transforms the concept of intertextuality from Barthes’s formal analysis of a text into a configuration process of multiple texts. Nevertheless, at the same time he limits noticeably the concept’s possible dimensions by continually questioning the legitimated character of social forms which do not participate in what he calls ‘proper interpretation’. The promotional work surrounding a text or film for example seem ‘alien’ to his analysis of reception, mainly because it is considered transient and heterogeneous as it fragments and extends the text rather than reconstructs it.

2.1.2: Intertextuality and Commodification

After the examination of intertextuality through the work of two semiotic theorists, the concept will be linked here with the commodification of mass culture, based on the “culture industry” analysis of Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno. The writers, both members of the Frankfurt School, argue that the culture content in contemporary capitalist societies constitutes a mass-produced, commodified product, that aims to manipulate the audience and immerse it into passivity (1944).

According to Adorno and Horkheimer, mass culture has the tendency to commodify the goods produced within its own system through a variety of industrial practices such as advertising and promotional forms. As Adorno argues (67) : “The internal configuration of a text is pervasively regulated by the apparatus of mass reproduction, the operations of which extend beyond the simple reproduction and distribution of the text, to be allied with procedures of commodification that arrange the text's consumable identity”. Notably influenced by Karl Marx's work, Adorno and Horkheimer state that modern media texts are condensed into a series of foregrounded elements that meet the conventions of consumption. These elements are part of the general commodified process, identified through several influential industrial practices, such as advertising for example.

As the authors point out, advertising material - an ad, a poster, an interview with a director/actor/singer - that appear to be completely external to the actual content of the text, can contribute in, if not regulate, the formulation of meaning. Despite the transience and

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heterogeneity that characterize promotional practices, they seem to establish certain values, that constitute the link between media content producers and the audience (potential consumers). The so-called consumable identity of the text, then, provides the audience with certain elements, that are created into a premeditated advertising network and specifically designed to enter the sphere of reception. A characteristic example that proves this strategy is the promotion of the recent blockbuster film The Revenant (2015), whose box-office reached a worldwide total of $533 million as the best performance of Leonardo DiCaprio, who finally won his first award for Best Actor in the Annual Academy Awards Ceremony (Oscars). The actor’s popularity in combination with his presence as a guest in some of the most successful television shows such as The Ellen Show and The Today Show, accompanied with a long-critic-buzz, undoubtedly sparked more the mass consumption of the film and reinforced its brand identity.

Summarizing it up, by acknowledging that the modern culture text (film, song, TV show) cannot be interpreted without bearing in mind the industrial/advertising practices that have been developed around it, Adorno and Horkheimer portray intertextuality as a totally commodified concept. Essentially, they admit what Eco’s theory neglects, that is the possibility of social institutions to constitute intertextual forms and consequently operate systematically on reception. Although, institutions may not create coherent readings, and sometimes cannot lead to a full-blown interpretation of a text, the authors argue that they may exert substantial influence on the text-viewer interaction. It also becomes obvious that Adorno and Horkheimer, in contrast to the semiotic analysis of Barthes and Eco, expand the notion of intertextuality in a complicated economic context, that of mass culture consumerism, with significant effects on media culture, as commodification is assumed to produce a distracted audience, tuned into only those aspects of the text that this process has delegated as valuable.

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2.1.3: Intertextuality as a Code System

Moving on with the analysis of intertextuality, I will now approach the concept explicitly in relation to the television medium, looking at the work of the media scholar, John Fiske. In his book Television Culture (1989) Fiske studies the way television is intertextually constructed using codes - term borrowed from linguistics and semiology to suggest here a "dictionary of meanings or effects” - of representation that are invisible to viewers, but that shape everything they see.

Drawing on Stuart Hall’s ‘Encoding/Decoding’ model (1973), in which the British theorist argued that texts are the product of a dual process: producers putting meaning into it (encoding) and audiences taking meaning out of it (decoding), Fiske states that: “codes are links between producers, texts, and audiences. They are the agents of intertextuality through which texts interrelate in a network of meanings that constitutes our cultural world” (4). According to him, each element of television is governed and generated by codes that lend meaning to everything, from social codes like the actors, the clothes they wear or the way they speak, to technical codes like the kinds of camera shots used to depict them or the music that accompanies their actions. It is the combination of the identified codes stated above that lead to the coherence and social acceptability of the ideological codes created, such as individualism, capitalism, race, materialism. “Television broadcasts programs that are replete with potential meanings [...] in an attempt to control and focus this meaningfulness into a more singular preferred meaning that performs the work of the dominant ideology” (1). In this sense, intertextuality in television texts for Fiske is not only governed by meanings that serve the dominant interests in society, but also it is circulated in such a way so as to be interpreted effortlessly and unconsciously by audiences, revealing a position closely connected with the commodification thesis of Adorno & Horkheimer presented above.

What is more, Fiske separates these television intertextual relations on two dimensions, the horizontal and the vertical (117). For him, horizontal relations of intertextuality are defined as the link between ‘primary’ texts, namely the original commodities, that are more or less explicitly related, usually along the axes of genre, character, or content and vary from a television series or a film to Jennifer Aniston herself or a promotional mug. On the other hand, what he refers to as vertical intertextuality is described as the relationship between a

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primary text and other texts of a different type that refer explicitly to it. These texts may be ‘secondary’ texts such as studio publicity, journalistic features, or criticism, or ‘tertiary’ texts produced by the viewers themselves in the form of letters to the press or, more importantly, of gossip and conversation. In this sense, reality shows, such as Survivor or The Voice, constitute typical examples of television programs that acquire both these intertextual dimensions, as they employ a relationship with other genre primary texts like game shows and soap operas (horizontal intertextuality) at the same time that they invest in the proliferation of web pages or online chats to boost their audience engagement with the product (vertical intertextuality).

To sum up, undeniably influenced by the semiotic approach of Umberto Eco, Fiske deals with the notion of intertextuality by using “codes”, and the consequent methods of overcoding and undercoding, as a starting point of his analysis. However, his decision to examine the concept exclusively in relation to the medium of television, reveals his intention, in contrast to semiotic theories (Barthes and Eco), to provide an analysis of short-scale codes - segmented elements incorporated in the television programs - rather than one about larger-scale codes, such as those of the narrative. Moreover, his specific focus on television intertextuality implies in a way that modern media texts are more "highly crafted, completed, self-sufficient" and thus inherently accessible to intertextuality (73) than the texts found in libraries, museums, art galleries etc. This view comes in direct opposition to Barthes’ understanding of intertextuality as an interpretive practice, textually infinite, undertaken by the audiences. Lastly, while it becomes obvious that Fiske acknowledges the commodified character of intertextual forms, introduced by Adorno and Horkheimer, his interest is more in the procedure through which these promotional intertextual texts (primary/secondary texts) are constructed and circulated rather than in their socio-economic impact.

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2.1.4: Intertextuality as a Stylistic Device

After exploring a variety of different dimensions regarding the concept of intertextuality, this final section will handle the concept as a stylistic device, a characterization mostly used in media studies to describe the intertextuality noted in postmodern texts. The essay of Brian Ott and Cameron Walter along with that of Frank J. D'Angelo provide insight in six disparate intertextual strategies utilized in contemporary media landscape: parodic allusion, inclusion/appropriation and self-reflexive reference as well as retro, pastiche and simulation, respectively.

The first strategy mentioned, parodic allusion, describes a stylistic device in which one text incorporates a caricature of another, most often, popular cultural text. “The parodic text imitates or exaggerates prominent or representative features of the "original" text and incorporates those features as part of its own textuality” (Ott & Walter 436). In contrast to parody, which comments critically or comically on the original text as well as attempts to be conceived as a self-contained text with a "semantic authority" over the original, parodic allusion seeks to amuse the audience through the method of juxtaposition, without offering commentary on the original text, while it doesn’t appear as a superior, self-contained text but rather as one that references to others, creating a large ‘collage’ narrative. The technique becomes blatant in the case of the American animated sitcom, The Simpsons, which in every 30-minute episode, seems to incorporate 15-20 parodic allusions, ranging from films (Citizen

Kane, 1941) to presidential campaigns (Michael Dukakis, 1988).

Another intertextual strategy discussed by the authors is creative appropriation/inclusion, which refers to a stylistic device in which one text appropriates and integrates a fragment of another text. Unlike parodic allusion, that creates an approximation of the original text based upon its characteristic features, inclusion reproduces indeed a portion of the original text. In fact, the rapid media transformation of the last decades, leading to a digital era, enables, the appropriated fragment to be altered either through visual editing or audio mixing. Since inclusion usually comments on the text that steals from, its aim is to produce commentary and criticism, that ranges from celebration to strong critique on the work it refers to. The Daily

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fragmented parts or scenes of newscasts, alters them with a variety of digital techniques and then presents them in a critical format.

Last but not least, Ott and Walter explore self-reflexive reference, a textual strategy which they define as “one text referring to another text as a means of commenting on its own "cultural status, function, and history, as well as on the conditions of its circulation and reception" (439). A characteristic example would be reboot movies such as Indiana Jones or

Star Wars which are littered with self-reflexive references of the original ones (lines, scenes

etc), reminding viewers the recycled nature of the movie genre. In this way, it can be said that he concept, which is also broadly used in literature analysis, draws attention to its fictional nature, tweaking at the same time the audience’s anticipation with all this self-centered commentary. As it is argued, unlike the strategies of parodic allusion and inclusion, self-reflexive reference is oriented towards an even more specific audience that has extra knowledge about the text's production history or the character's previous credits.

Continuing with the analysis of modern stylistic strategies, Frank J. D'Angelo discusses in his article the intertextual mode of simulation. Referencing Jean Baudrillard, he writes that “much of what we see on television is reproduced and mediated, so that we cannot always distinguish what is real and what is represented (42). Reality TV is the most noticeable media example of simulation as it defies its own label of depicting the ‘real’. Reality TV “fakes” it regularly through montage, as it “stitches together clips from different scenes to make participants say what the makers of the show wish they had said” (McDowell 62), as well as through fake settings and ‘confessional’ interviews that make the situations appear more dramatic.

Another stylistic mode of intertextuality explored by D’Angelo is pastiche, a term broadly used to describe a piece of art, literature, music or architecture “made up of fragments pieced together” (40). Unlike Ott and Walter who find the use of pastiche troubling because many cultural critics have judged it as an entirely superficial aesthetic practice, D’Angelo presents it as an active case of “double-coding,” the combination of contemporary culture with elements borrowed from the past (40). As he states the stylistic device of pastiche can be found in almost any medium. Films like Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction or Lars von Trier’s

Zentropa, literary novels like Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose or Ismael Reed’s Mumbo Jumbo as well as architecture designs like Charles Moore’s Piazza d’Italia in New Orleans or

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Charles Jencks’ The Garden of Cosmic Speculation in Scotland, all represent postmodern pastiche forms, constructed as a patchwork of borrowed styles.

The final intertextual mode that I find very useful from D’Angelo’s article is retro, a stylistic device which refers to “a fashion, design, or style reminiscent of the past” (35). Borrowing elements from pastiche, this media technique is being described as the “reappropriation and recontextualization of older forms and styles” (35) without constituting a form of imitation or plagiarism. According to D’Angelo, retro is closely related to nostalgia, a word coined in general to explain a condition of sentimentality for the past. Originated from Greek language, nostalgia is a synthesis of the words nostos, which signifies the return/homecoming, and

algos, which means suffering/affliction. Nowadays, the term is utilized to describe not only

the desire to return to a place (home) but also the general yearning for a different time which appears to be connected with childhood memories, old habits and rhythms. The retro look of the 60s for example, that is being successfully represented in a multiplicity of TV shows, such as Mad Men (2007-2015) and Masters of Sex (2013-2016), or films, like A Single Man (2009) and The factory girl (2009), leads the viewer consciously to the concept of nostalgia. Either it is nostalgia for a time period when life was still ‘good and innocent’ or nostalgia for a time period that “it’s over and now society is in a better place”, D’Angelo believes that nostalgia constitutes a crucial part of retro as an intertextual media strategy, because today it had become highly constructed, prepackaged and sold as a ‘commodity’ (35) to the audience. Thus, it becomes clear that here intertextuality is identified as a stylistic device consciously employed by the author or in the case of media texts by the producer, to invite a particular audience response. This view comes in direct contrast to semiotics and especially to the position of Barthes, who argues that intertextuality makes the reader and not the author responsible for the construction of the meaning. In addition, similarly to Fiske, who confines significantly the heterogeneity and infinity of the notion of intertextuality as well as its interpretative accessibility, due to his distinction between horizontal and vertical intertextual relations, all six textual strategies analyzed above limit sensibly audience’s interpretation process. While the authors state that strategies like the self-reflexivity or retro enrich the participation, identification as well as interpretation processes for the common viewer, it is undeniable that such media texts are addressed to a more specific audience, a small selective community of people, determined by further knowledge upon the media text.

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In conclusion, after drawing scrutinously the theoretical framework of intertextuality, it becomes obvious that, although all the dimensions identified and analyzed above engage with my case object, my focus will be centered in the last two academic positions which describe the concept as a code system and a stylistic device, respectively. Specifically speaking, in the first analysis chapter I will utilize the television code model that Fiske proposes in conjunction with Barthe’s and Eco’s semantic perspective, in an attempt to study the social, cultural and political references in the series. To continue with the second analysis chapter, I will investigate how specific intertextual stylistic strategies, that Ott & Walter and D’Angelo discuss, such as self-reflexivity, retro and pastiche, are part of the constructed narrative identity of the series, as well as constitute consumable cultural products (e.g nostalgia), actively linked with the commodification theory of Adorno and Horkheimer.

2.2: The Concept of Quality TV

Quality usually refers to high value or excellence. According to modern dictionaries, it represents the standard of something as measured against other things of a similar kind, framing the person, object or notion within a high/low cultural divide. As Charlotte Brunsdon observes: “any interrogation of what is, and could be, meant by ‘quality’ involves ‘discourses of judgement’ (107). In this sense, the concept of ‘quality TV’ can be broadly understood as the type of television programming that is ‘judged’, mainly by television scholars and critics, as higher ‘quality’ due to a series of characteristics.

The following section will attempt to deepen as well as expand the comprehension of the knotty ‘quality TV’ discourse, focusing more on the analysis of the ‘quality’ differentiating elements themselves rather than the cultural divide between the ‘popular’ and the ‘quality’ standards. Firstly, it will provide briefly the historical insight on the development of ‘quality TV’ discourses and then it will continue with to systematization of the so-called quality television’s defining features as well as the controversial academic/critic perspectives articulating around them. Drawing on this theoretical evidence, I will then explore in the analysis chapters to come the interconnectdness between the two concepts scrutinized (intertextuality and quality TV discourses), supporting my argumentation on the strategical utilization of intertextuality from the producers, intended to increase the quality TV appeal of the series.

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2.2.1: The Development of ‘Quality TV’

The label “quality television” was firstly coined by US American TV critics in the mid-1970s with regard to shows like Rich Man, Poor Man and Hill Street Blues (Schlütz 97). After the 3-network era (ABC, CBS, NBC) from 1950 to mid-1970, referred to as TVI (Jenner 2) or the “Golden Age of Television”, which was characterized by the marketing logic and therefore oriented towards the production as well as distribution of ‘popular’ programs in the aim of attracting the biggest audience possible, television medium moved forward. In the decades to come (mid-1970 to mid-1990), classified by Jenner (2) as TVII, technological transformations, specifically speaking the introduction of the VCR and cable channels, allowed a different viewing experience autonomous in terms of time, space and content -and facilitated the emergence of a new type of programming which according to lots of TV critics was more sophisticated and artistic than the usual network fare (Thomson 36). They called it “quality television” and gradually affirmed it as a separate genre or according to others as a meta-genre.

The first channel associated closely with this meta-genre, offering high ‘quality’ niche content, was the innovative pay TV service, HBO. From the early 1980s, HBO began to produce systematically original programming, including both comedic and dramatic series, under the umbrella of ‘quality television’. As Catherine Johnson (16) states: “ [...] over the second half of the 1990s HBO (“It’s not TV, it’s HBO”) developed a brand identity as the home of quality television in the USA that drew on a wide range of its programming, but was centred on the shift towards producing adult, edgy, authored and high-budget original drama series”. This branding marketing technique along with the digitalization and media convergence, shape the so-called post-network era from the mid-1990s since 2010, defined as TVIII (Jenner 2), and suggest a shift from second-order to first-order commodity relations (Reeves et al. 42-57). In this sense, it becomes clear that quality TV discourses regard cutting edge, complex series, like The Sopranos, The Wire or Deadwood, which emerged particularly due to the establishment of cable TV and are addressed to a specialized, adult audience of paying subscribers rather than the general public.

Nowadays, quality television has entered a new phase, determined by Mareike Jenner (2) as TVIV (2010-now), which is particularly marked by the entrance of new players, such as

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VOD services, in the competitive original production arena. The difference that these VOD providers and especially Netflix, the most renowned and successful - with 137 million subscribers worldwide - portal among them, signal is a move away from the television set (Jenner 3), as the content provided is exclusively available online. Thus, television use has changed “from flow to files” (Mittell 422). Following the vivid HBO’s example of supporting its brand identity on “quality” content, Netflix has invested in original drama with series like

House of Cards, Orange is the New Black and Stranger Things, while it took the risk to defy

the traditional television model of weekly episode release by making available all the episodes of one series’ season simultaneously (Lotz 15), introducing the so-called ‘binge-watching’ model. Bingeing constitutes the consecutive watching of two or more several episodes of one program and is well associated with quality television discourses. The kind of attention demanded by some ‘quality’ series seems to make it necessary for viewers to consciously make a decision to focus entirely on the series (Jenner 10), something only possible if viewers can schedule autonomously as well as have the opportunity to watch episodes repeatedly and/or en bloc (Brunsdon 63-75).All in all, what should be noted is that in this new, digital media phase, quality television discourses have come to represent high-budget, adult online content, like the one provided by Netflix or Hulu, which is available also for consecutive viewing through binge-watching model.

2.2.2: Defining Features of ‘Quality TV’

Without a doubt, quality TV constitutes a multi-faceted, controversial concept that is almost infeasible to clarify or to reference Robert Thompson (12): “no one could say exactly what ‘quality television’ means, but people just seemed to know it when they saw it”. Although scholars seem to have quite distinct perspectives regarding the definition of quality television, it becomes clear that almost all of them (e.g Akass & McCabe, 2007; Catherine Johnson, 2012; Feuer, 1984; Robert Thompson, 1996) agree that the discourse around quality TV is a complex subject and, therefore, demanding on several levels. As a result, identifying as well as designating the core features of the so-called quality TV turns out to be very challenging. In what follows, I indicate and, subsequently, analyze the most characteristic and significant among these defining quality features: narrative complexity, aesthetic intensity and intertextuality.

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A: Narrative complexity

If there is one thing that the majority of academics/critics acknowledge as a key hallmark of quality TV, that is narrative complexity. First hailed during the 1970s, the same period when discussions about quality television started spread, narrative complexity constitutes today the most popular storytelling mode of contemporary television. As Jason Mittell (32) argues discussing the concept:

At its most basic level, narrative complexity is a redefinition of episodic forms under the influence of serial narration—not necessarily a complete merger of episodic and serial forms but a shifting balance. Rejecting the need for plot closure within every episode that typifies conventional episodic form, narrative complexity foregrounds ongoing stories across a range of genres.

However, as he continues “narrative complexity cannot simply be defined as prime-time episodic seriality”, mostly because many programs (e.g Seinfeld) don’t have an actual serial plotting but “embrace several narrative strategies to rebel against episodic conventionality”. Narrative complexity can be viewed as a merge between the techniques of the serial and the series (Schlütz 101). It works against the norms of these categories, respectively, “altering the relationship between multiple plotlines as well as creating interweaving stories that often collide and coincide (Mittell 34).

To achieve this, narrative complexity uses specific formal techniques such as cliffhangers, frame narratives, unreliable narration, plot twists, premediation and many others, constructing the story-world around enigmas, which need critical thought and will not be revealed without careful focus from the viewer. The viewing pleasure in such complex narratives is less about “what will happen?” and more concerning the meaning of “how did this happen?”. “This kind of puzzle-plot invites the viewer to anticipate the combinatorial possibilities and to stay with the program to prove himself right” (Liebes & Katz 144). It is not surprising then that in order to reinforce even more that audience-text relationship “many complex narratives of quality TV often break the ‘fourth wall’ with the audience” (Mittell 37) either through direct address (Malcolm in the Middle, The Bernie Mae Sholo) or the more ambiguous voice-over

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(Arrested Development) . In this way, they invite viewers to engage actively with the program, asking not only dedication but also vigilance.

What is more, apart from the interlaced, ambiguous storylines, narrative complex series frequently revolve around controversial subject matters, as for example that of AIDS in the classic St. Elsewhere or the political-power scandals in the most recent House of Cards. To support this debatable content, they deploy most of the times a huge cast, constituted of complicated, morally controversial characters (Schlütz 101) such as Jack Bauer (24) or Walter White (Breaking Bad), leading the audience perception towards the thin line between good and evil, logic and fantasy.

B: Aesthetic Intensity

In his work Thompson (1996) contends that quality TV is simply television’s version of the ‘art film’. In the same context, McCAbe (2007) writes that television inherently limits itself, and cinema can somehow liberate TV from that position. According to her the majority of quality TV series are produced with “aspirations toward the cinematic”, as nowadays several technological transformations have enabled TV series to produce visual effects similar to ones that were once only seen in Hollywood movies. Admittedly, there is a strong basis for such claims, nevertheless, my analysis here will be unfolded without equating wholly the aesthetics of quality television with the cinematic.

Quality TV is characterized by “high production values and a distinct audiovisual style” (Schlütz 101) that signatures its brand identity. Innovative techniques such as cinematographic photography (backlighting, point of view shots), flashbacks/flashforwards, special effects and split screens are combined with the deployment of music, from opening soundtracks to noteworthy voice tone in dialogues, creating a complex aesthetic experience. In fact, discussing such techniques, Bignell (158) refers to mise-en-scene and its establishment as a generic component of the contemporary quality police/investigation and crime series, to note the aesthetic importance in the development of a high-end television.

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Another aesthetic aspect of quality television that needs to be mentioned is authenticity (Schlütz 102). Cases like the successfully set resurrection of the 1960s in Mad Men or the medieval high fantasy spectacle provided in Game of Thrones constitute characteristic examples of the genre’s aspiration towards verisimilitude, seeking for audience identification that the ‘stereotyped’ constructed programs of ‘mainstream’ TV cannot support. Thus, it becomes obvious that both structure (narrative complexity) and style (aesthetics) in quality series, call attention and challenge viewers’ expectations, in the hope of enhancing narrative engagement.

In direct contrast to the above argument, Jessica Balanzategui, focusing on two crime drama series Hannibal and True Detective, argues that new quality series undermine the rational, realistic representation, adopting “highly stylized, surreal aesthetics and avant-garde formal devices” (657). What she means is that these new generation series (2010s until now) incorporate surrealism, a movement that unsettles the boundaries between dreams and reality, in the aim of innovation and differentiation in the TVIV era. Unconventional characters (narrative complexity), gothic-noir aesthetics, self-reflexivity and bizarre, illogical sleuthing methods are some of the characteristics that work as a “talisman to ward off the predictability of the forensic crime dramas” (Balanzategui 660). In this way, modern crime series, not only show how quality series can be transformed “to meet the spectatorship practices of the digital age” (Balanzategui 658) but also call attention to the constructed nature of the narration and “ask the viewer to marvel at how the writers pulled it off”, leading to what Mittel (38) has defined as “narrative special effect”.

C: Intertextuality

Although, it is not accepted openly in academia as a defining feature of quality television, intertextuality turns out to be an integral asset of contemporary series’ plots. As I will demonstrate further on in the analysis chapters, with the examination of my case study,

Stranger Things, intertextual references to other texts/movies/series as well as intertextual

stylistic devices, have become common place in the so-called quality television series’ narratives.

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Jane Feuer (1984) has traced a first version of the relationship between the two concepts, stating the presence of self-conscious intertextuality in MTM productions. More specifically, she adds (334):

As quality television has developed across production companies and networks, the explicit referencing has played a vital role in situating a given program in relation to other forms of quality and non-quality programs. During the 1990 fall season, for example, Michael and Hope of ABC's thirtysomething referred to watching L. A. Law, while on NBC's L. A. Law, attorney Anne Kelsey spoke of wanting to get home and watch thirtysomething.

Similarly, John Fiske (1989), whose position on televisual intertextuality has been analyzed in detail formerly in this chapter, claims that in quality TV every element of the program is constructed and governed by codes that lend multiple meanings, leading to what he has called “polysemy”. For him, intertextuality can be found inside, e.g. in stylistic presentation (the makeup of an actor), as well as outside the quality program such as in surrounding works (fragments/phrases/concepts) or even in ancillary material. In fact, ancillary content, either professional from DVD extras and promotional mugs to blogs and official twitter accounts or user-generated like fan art, constitutes a by-product of nowadays transmedia landscape and is increasingly developed in the genre of quality TV (Schlütz 109). “Contemporary, quality television increasingly ‘overflows’ from the primary text (original program) across multiple texts or platforms [constructing] an extended, immersive experience” (Brooker 456).

To sum up, it becomes clear that the foregrounding of intertextuality as multidimensional concept conducted previously in this chapter, brings to surface its integral interconnection with ‘quality television’ discourses. In fact, intertextuality not only constitutes one of the so-called QTV defining features but also contributes in the configuration of the other two, narrative complexity and aesthetic intensity, as both focus - one way or another - on textual ‘quality’. For that reason, it could be said that the development of the concept of intertextuality throughout the years functions so as “to distance television programs from the stigmatized medium, characterized often by critics as “mindless entertainment” (Bianculli 15), announcing their superiority and ‘quality essence’.

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Chapter 3: Intertextuality through Social, Cultural and Political references

of the ‘80s

3.1: Introducing Stranger Things

Stranger Things is an American science-fiction, horror series produced and distributed

originally by Netflix in 2016.The series, which is created, written and directed by ‘the Duffer Brothers’, revolves around a sequence of supernatural events occurring in the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana, in the 1980s. The story begins with the peculiar disappearance of a young boy, Will Byers, near the top-secret Hawkins National Laboratory, and the mysterious appearance of a girl, named Eleven, who has psychokinetic abilities, on the same night. As Will’s mother Joyce and brother Jonathan, friends, Mike, Justin and Lukas, as well as authorities, mostly the town’s police chief, Jim Hopper, search for answers, they unravel a series of extraordinary mysteries, involving secret government experiments and paranormal phenomena, such as the existence of a sinister monster and a portal/gateway to another dimension (“The Upside Down”).

The series was originally known as Montauk, since the setting of the script was in Montauk, New York and some nearby Long Island locations. After deciding to change the narrative of the series and set it in the fictional town of Hawkins, the Duffer Brothers had to come up with a new title. Strongly influenced by Stephen King and his novels, the writers named the show

Stranger Things, mainly because it was similar to King’s novel title Needful Things. Besides, as they have stated, for them “Stranger Things is a love letter to the golden age of Steven Spielberg and Stephen King – a marriage of human drama and supernatural fear”.

The premiere was held in July, 2016 with the first season consisting of eight episodes, while approximately one year later, in October, 2017, the portal released the second season of the show, formed with nine episodes this time. According to the Duffer Brothers, having Netflix as their distributor was crucial as they were not limited to a typical 22-episode format on broadcast television that would make difficult for them to “tell a cinematic story”. Netflix’s flexibility allowed them to give time to characterization, pacing as well as narrative development and contributed undoubtedly to the general success of the series.

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Critically acclaimed and popularly loved, with more than 23 million regular viewers around the world (Parrot Analytics), Stranger Things has become today one of Netflix's top offerings (Wetmore 11). The first season was nominated for 18 Emmy Awards including multiple nominations in acting, directing, and editing, as well as for “Outstanding Drama Series”, while it also won the Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series. Season two has proven even more popular. According to Nielsen, the premiere of second season of Stranger Things reached more than 15 million viewers within three days, with 361,000 people out of them actually binge-watching the entire season in the first 24 hours it was available. Suspecting the upcoming success, a few days after the release of second season, Netflix also introduced Beyond Stranger Things, an after show hosted by Jim Rash. This new venture, which focuses on interviews with members of the cast and crew, including the Duffer Brothers and the series' stars, and discussions upon the development as well as the behind-the-scenes production of the series, managed to meet audience’s preferences, as some of the videos became rapidly viral in social media (Parrot Analytics-”Demand Expressions”), and reinforce even more the show’s popularity. In this sense, it is not surprising that the giant media company decided to renew the series with a third season that is expected to be released in July, 2019.

Note: In the two analysis chapters to come I will make use of all the relevant Stranger Things episodes of Season 1&2, cited by season and episode number (e.g. S1.E2).

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3.2: Intertextuality in terms of social, political and cultural references of the 1980s

As it is indicated in the theoretical framework chapter, Fiske understands media texts as a code system, a rule-governed system of signs, which is used to generate and circulate multiple meanings (4). Based on the semiotic analysis of signs provided in the work of Umberto Eco, who identifies media texts as full of promised, implied, supposed elements (what Fiske specifies as codes) inviting the reader to unravel them in order to redound on an interpretation, Fiske creates a complex hierarchical structure of codes and attempts to put them in categories depending on their utilization in the construction of the meaning. In this sense, there are televisual social codes, closely linked with the representation of reality, such as speech-dialogue, appearance (dress, make-up) and behavior, technical codes like camera movement or lighting, which encode electronically the social ones, and, finally, ideological codes such as capitalism, race, class which organize into coherence the two preceding categories (5).

Drawing on Fiske’s code system, this chapter endeavors to present the intertextual identity of

Stranger Things, through a thorough analysis of the social, cultural and political references of

the 1980s - decade that the series’ plot takes place - identified, as well as point out its interconnection with quality television discourses, particularly in relation to the defining dimension of textual complexity, and marginally comment on the consequent exploitation tendencies. The referential examination that followsregards representations of the American family, gender politics as well as the controversial state-citizen and police-citizen relationship - all characteristic facets of the ‘80s - deconstructing gradually the intertextual intentionality of the series.

3.2.1: Family

Undoubtedly, 1980s constitutes a decade marked by Reagan’s presidency and the dramatic shift towards conservatism in a variety of social and political issues. Advocating his attempt to “save the country from moral cancers that cause society’s rot from within” (Schulman et al. 26), such as abortion, pornography, the breakdown of the traditional family as well as gay rights, Reagan established a repressive regime, bringing back memories of mid-century

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America. In this sense, it is not surprising that family and the preservation of its traditional, nuclear form against the constantly raising divorce rates, that reached a peak during the last two decades, was considered one of the top priorities in his political agenda.

Bearing in mind this historical background along with the generic difficulty of family representation, as “family constitutes a social phenomenon we have all had some experience of and around which a vast array of naturalized assumptions and prejudices circulate” (Harwood 5), The Duffer Brothers fabricate Stranger Things’ family depiction mostly around well-known family stereotypes, such as the equation of nuclear family with what is considered ‘normal’, demonstrating at the same time both their weakness and superficiality while familiarizing the viewer with the era of family transformation that waited in the doorstep.

Thus, the series’ representation is constructed around the two primary familial modes: nuclear family that stands as the societal norm, contrary to all the other, marginalized forms of family (divorced parents, unmarried mothers etc.). In this way, Mike Wheeler, who appears to be the ‘head’ of the series’ boy group, has the typical American, nuclear family that is financially well and socially respected whereas Will Byers, the boy that vanishes in the very first episode, comes from a single-parent family as his parents are divorced, with the father being completely absent and indifferent to the children. A combination of what Fiske defines as social codes, specifically speaking, behavior, dialogue and appearance, reveal the visual as well as verbal juxtaposition of the two families, especially in the first season.

First and foremost, the writers make use of the codic nature of appearance to strike the differences between the two families and provide the viewer with insight about the societal distinction referred above between the ‘norm’ and the ‘outsider’/margin’.

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Figure 1

Figure 2

The Wheelers (Figure 1) are portrayed well-cared, wearing elegant, quite formal outfits, even in the domestic space of their house, while the Byers (Figure 2) are most of the times plain, casually dressed. The most characteristic divergence is noted between the two mothers’ looks, Karen’s (Figure 3) and Joyce’s (Figure 4), which are encoded not only through the televisual costumes selected but also through the directing choices such as camera movement. Joyce’s supposed class inferiority is aptly represented through her uncared appearance, consisting of random clothes, missing hairstyles and makeup, at the same time that Karen is almost always presented stylish, dressed according to the ‘80s fashion trends, with her feminine, well-coiffed curls never out of their place. It is this representational regime of appearance that brings in the surface, the most complex ideological code of class, which, as Fiske argues, works less openly and more questionably (10), to naturalize the correlation of the single-parent, lower-income family with lower-class and less attractive.

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Figure 3

Figure 4

However, this stereotype of the well-put nuclear family that the series reproduces and reinforces through visualization, is then gradually complicated upon a more extensive penetration of the family dynamic. Several instances of character behavior and dialogue (televisual social codes) that stand out, demonstrate a variety of problematic nuances regarding the nuclear family, portraying it more focused on the quality of status/life rather on the quality of relationships.

The most representative example highlighting the imperfections of the nuclear model comes from an intimate, straightforward dialogue between Nancy and Jonathan that takes place in S1. E5, when Nancy confesses her inner thoughts about her family:

- Nancy: “I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.” Jonathan: “They’ve must have married for some reason.”

Nancy: “My mum was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house in the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

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This dialogue, which indicates more than clearly that nuclear family puts money instead of love in its basis, functions as a critique to the ‘favored’ American family model. In this sense, it could be said that the writers not only to bring into question the social norms, values and ideologies surrounding American society but also directly break the conventions of the nuclear family myth.

Continuing on, the series’ producers provide the viewer further signs on the debunking of Wheeler’s family (nuclear model) through characters’ behavior. First of all, there is little to no communication between father Ted and the children (Carranza 23). He is presented as the typical father figure who provides economic stability to the house through his work but doesn’t really interact with the family members, especially his children. The only time they spend together is during dinner. In fact, the dinner scene of the very first episode, “Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers”, represents characteristically this unfocused behavior, as when there is a heated conversation between his wife, Karen, and the children, Ted remains completely silent, continuing eating his meal. A few seconds later both Nancy and Mike leave the table upset and frustrated while Karen tells ironically to Ted: “I hope you’re enjoying your chicken, Ted” and dismisses herself. Finally, the scene ends with Ted awkwardly asking her “What did I do?”, emphasizing his apathy to the problems as well as his absence from the family’s interaction axes.

In the same context, Mike’s mother, Karen, although at first glance looks as an ideal housewife and mother, interacts superficially with Mike and Nancy, mainly to ensure that they meet social expectations. In fact, she cares about Mike going to bed at a reasonable hour but doesn’t pay attention at all to his actions or change of behavior (e.g. when the boys find Eleven in the woods and they hide her in the house basement-S1.E2). Another example of this inappropriate attention occurs when Nancy's friend Barb goes missing (S1.E3). Karen does not show any interest in giving her daughter mental support in such a difficult time, but instead chooses to interrogate her about whether she had sex with her boyfriend Steve (Carranza 23), as something like that is obviously against the family’s moral status. Her unprecedently improper behavior continues also on the morning of Will’s funeral (S1.E5) as Karen focuses on Nancy’s look, asking her indeed if she would like to borrow several articles of her clothing collection to appear even more pretty. Instead of showing sympathy and providing emotional support for the tragic loss of the boy, she seems to care more about the social conventions and the standards aligned with their ‘flawless’, nuclear family status.

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In direct contrast to the Wheeler’s parent behaviors, the intertextual construction of Joyce Byer’s character is positively put, despite all of the difficulties of her life. As a single mother that doesn’t get any substantial financial as well as emotional support from her ex-husband, Joyce needs to work hard to make ends meet and, therefore, she doesn’t have enough free time to devote to her sons. She characteristically apologizes to the older son, Jonathan, sobbing: “I know I haven’t really been there for you. I’ve been working so hard...and I just feel bad” (S1.E1). However, there are several flashback scenes, both in S1.E1 and S1.E5, testifying that she has tried, as much as her timelines allow her, and has actually developed true, genuine bonds with Will, who is younger and less independent, when they interact about his hobbies, drawing or music, and they share laughter. Also, immediately after Will goes missing she quits from every other responsibility and anxiously searches for answers, even though she is then socially marginalized and mocked for believing in a supernatural communication with her boy. In fact, when Lonnie, her ex-husband, criticizes her about the quality of life she had provided to the children she exclaims: “Maybe I am a mess. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm out of my mind! But, God help me, I will keep these lights up until the day I die if I think there's a chance that Will's still out there!” (S1.E5). Similarly, in Season 2, after Will returns home from the ‘Upside Down’, she does whatever possible to find out the source of his post-traumatic episodes saying to him characteristically in S2.E4: “I will never ever let anything bad happen to you ever again! Whatever’s going on in you, we’re gonna fix it! I will fix it. I promise!”.

Summing up the above, what the series intertextual construction underlies is that, while the position of Will’s family in the social hierarchy is lower than that of Mike’s, the quality of their relationships seems much richer (Franklin 191). It is without a doubt that both families deal with turmoil, either self-generated either external ones, nevertheless, Stranger Things narrative conveys through its code-system intertextuality that it is not the structure that contributes to a strong family model but rather the interaction, tenderness and fondness between the members. Thus, the nuclear family, that was a dominant ideological form until the ‘80s, has started to languish, as new familial models come further into the spotlight proving their forcefulness and viability.

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3.2.2: Gender/Identity politics

As mentioned before Reagan built his social policies on the foundations of the nuclear family, which upheld staunchly conservative values linking femininity with domesticity and masculinity with aggression (Butler 85-86). Thus, it becomes clear that 1980s gender identities were strictly created out of social life norms, adhering to stereotypes that differentiate directly ‘woman’ from ‘man’. Bearing in mind Reagan’s America conventions,

Stranger Things deals with gender representation in a noticeable unorthodox way, oscillating

between queerness and oppression (Roach 146). Through its intertextual references, the series endeavors to provide the viewer with insight on the 1980s gender stereotypes, such as the pervasive queer stigma or the feminine performativity, questioning as well as subverting them implicitly at the same time.

To begin with, it becomes obvious that the series core boy characters, namely Mike, Dustin, Lukas, Will and even Jonathan, lack the typical masculine identity characteristics of their time, associated with “aggressive, womanizer behavior and athleticism” (Roach 147). Not only due to their constructed appearance as less strong and petite, but also due to their behavior, particularly their interest upon artistic objects like fantasy novels and games (boy group), drawing (Will), music and photography (Jonathan), the characters become marginalized and, thus, easy targets for bullying. “What are you doing back here losers?” says Troy (S1. E3), a famous bully of the school, while teases Dustin for his teeth condition, continuing his provocative, racist behavior in S1.E4 when he adds to his previous comments: “Will's in fairyland now right? Flying around with all the other fairies? All happy and gay”. Indeed, Will is the most ‘vulnerable’ out of the four members of the boy group. As Joyce remarks to the Police Chief, Hopper, in the first episode “Will is not like you. He’s not like me. He is not like most”. His appeal to drawing along with his shyness stigmatizes him as queer and evokes bullying. Even his dad, before leaving, constantly tried to ‘normalize’ him in a way, make him do other - more masculine - things, like baseball, revealing the 1980s gender performativity indicated in the beginning. Despite his brother encouragement towards the acceptance of his identity (“You shouldn’t like things because people tell you, you are supposed to”. S1.E2, “Being a freak is the best. Do you wanna be like everybody else?” S2.E1), urging him to see the liberating possibilities which can come from embracing his

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difference, Will seems to suffer from that situation. Especially in the second season, when on top of all the others, he is mocked for his tragic experience in the ‘Upside Down’ called “zombie boy” or “freak”, he is portrayed frustrated, unhappy, desperately trying to be ‘normal’ in order to feel safe, as the society he inhabits is not ready for him yet.

Stranger Things’ focus on queer gender representation of the ‘80s is also expanded on

women characters of the show, exploring particularly the dipole woman - femininity. After being locked and used for several experiments in Hawkins Laboratory for years, the protagonist girl, Eleven, has a weird, androgynous look - often called by the boys in the beginning episodes ‘weirdo’ - characterized by her shaved head. Her non-normative appearance, at least according to the stereotypes of the time, that expected the woman to have long hair and wear dresses or skirts in feminine colors like pink for example, make Eleven’s gender identification, ambivalent. In fact, in the very first episode when she run away from the lab and sneaked in a restaurant to eat, the owner caught her with his eyeball from a distance and starting yelling: “Hey! You think you can steal from me, boy?”, while, similarly, when the boys find her in the woods during the storm, they cannot recognize at first if it’s a girl or a boy, with Lukas exclaiming: “She’s freaking me out!” (S1.E2). Afterwards, in an effort to make her look more ‘normal’, as she was about to present herself at school, the boys dress Eleven in a pink dress and a blonde wig (S1.E4). The moment she goes out of the room, transformed into a cute, usual school girl, the boys are left speechless with Michael saying characteristically: “Wow! She looks...pretty.” This makeover scene emphasizes clearly the writers’ intention to comment on performative femininity back in the ‘80s, employed to gain social acceptance, at the same time that it challenges the stereotypes circulating behind it, particularly when Eleven in S1.E7 moves back to her tom-boy appearance, rejecting her fake, feminine side. To reinforce even more the inversion of the stereotypical female depiction of the series, the narrative shows Eleven, in a decisive moment, asking Michael if she still looks pretty with the return of her more boyish look, getting his approval as a conclusive answer: “Yes. Really pretty!” (Roach 151).

To sum up, as Roach states in her essay (146): “The world of Stranger Things - much like the eighties themselves - is portrayed unsafe for the lonely, the vulnerable and the queer”. Thus, the gender representation both of the characters of Will and Eleven can be analyzed through a queer lens due to their nonconformist characteristics. Similarly to the intertextual code construction of family references examined previously, the series encodes gender politics

Intertextuality in Stranger Things and The Formation of Quality, Nostalgic Appeal