thetheoryisalie

[thetheoryisalie]

The Scripted Van Scene CONFIRMS Who's Endgame (Hint: It's Byler)

In the van scene from Stranger Things S4E8 ('Papa'), Mike and Will have a totally different conversation that never made it into the show. But, thanks to @strangerwriters on X/Twitter, it wasn't lost forever. By analyzing the original script, we can see what was left on the cutting room floor—and how the changes made are even more revealing than the scene itself.

Van Scene's Page-By-Page Breakdown:

Borrowing the official script pages, this analysis uses my personal annotations to further examine hidden meaning and the original intention of the van scene's emotional painting reveal. Outlined (above) in yellow highlighter are the lines and details omitted from the end product on screen, in blue is a subdued theme owing to the changes, and underlined are symbolic images that are absent.

Glossary

Page 1 - Establishing Objectives, Setting, and Filmic Codes

Page 2 - Omissions, Em Dashes, and Mike's Coming Out

Page 3 - Painting Reveal, Shame, and Baited Breath

Page 4 - Love Confession(s), Pronouns, and the Fulcrum

Conclusion

Page 1

For the most part, the first page is very similar to what made it on screen in terms of dialogue and action. Hence, no highlighter. However, it is still extremely vital for clarifying the scene's true intentions. Direct your attention to the scene heading at the top of the page.

INT. PIZZAMOBILE - SUNRISE

To start, the abbreviation "INT." signifies that the scene takes place inside the pizza van. Following the em dash in the scene heading is a time marker. While screenwriters typically default to "DAY," the specific notation of "SUNRISE" is a very intentional choice. Narratively, the characters have spent the entire night driving ("Jonathan is driving, rubbing his eyes, trying to stay awake"). Still, standard practice would be to convey this information in the action lines, as providing such specific details about the time is less flexible for a fluctuating film schedule or later scene reordering.

If you're at all familiar with photography and film, you'll know there's a "golden hour" window that makes everything look magical and flattering on camera. It's usually the first and last hour of the day. In this case, it's sunrise. Most often, filmmakers either take advantage of natural light or painstakingly try to recreate it. The latter is what this particular scene did, as the cast and crew confirmed they spent a whole day shooting it. This stands out because a three-and-a-half-page scene set in a fairly controllable environment wouldn't normally take all day.

Often, but not exclusively, romantic scenes are bathed in a golden hour light. It's the most flattering for actors because there aren't as many harsh shadows to warp or blemish faces—it's nature's natural filter. It also creates a beautiful halo to frame their hairline and make subjects pop on screen. Suffice it to say, we've all noticed the end result, as they lit Will to glow with a directional light seeping in from his side of the van. This only doubles down on the idea that the idyllic lighting was intentional from the start. As I will discuss later, this is Will's scene, so highlighting him radiantly is important for the audience—and for Mike—to gravitate toward him. He is meant to be awed as he gallantly risks baring his soul to help guide Mike toward what he sees as his full potential.

…SURFER BOY PIZZA BILLBOARD.

By showing the billboard we then have a brief teaser for the Piggyback episode, placing the Surfer Boy pizza chain in Nevada for plot convince (later on when Eleven uses it's dough-prevation tank). This first beat establishes the scene's narrative goal: setting up Mike's love confession to El as a moment that is ultimately motivated by Will at the end of this conversation.

Now, you can start to see how that love confession was indeed Will's doing rather than Mike's through this evocative motif. Both scenes are visually tied to the Surfer Boy iconography. Additionally, the window decals in the van cast prominent shadows that were not mentioned in the script but appear in the filmed outcome—the same decal that matches the logo on El's pizza box blindfold apparatus. We can see this as a hint, like the stick figure drawing on the window: the logo over her eyes embodies El noticing a shift after Will's confession. Or, it could be that Mike is unknowingly making El a reminder of Will, as staring at that logo was the only way he could tell her "I love you."

INTO THE BACK OF THE VAN

We get a sense of intimacy due to the subheading above, which even notes the back of the van as its own location within the space. In my opinion, a writer wouldn't usually do this, as a van is already a small space; it's not a different room or a switch to an exterior. By stretching the space in our minds, the writers set Mike and Will off in their own personal bubble, only to be viewed "far away" in Jonathan's rearview mirror. Here, the brothers are made to be worlds apart, which is another important narrative tie-in for the Surfer Boy location.

Where we find Mike and Will. The mood is a bit more somber back here.

Communicating that it is a somber mood also begins to build the scene's emotional transformation. A scene is like a mini-story that turns the value-charged condition of the character's life (a concept borrowed from Robert McKee's book, Story). Characters oscillate between positive and negative charges within scenes to help track their emotional journey, which can be separate from their overall scene objective. In this scene, both boys begin with a negative charge; they are somber (-).

Will: "Once we save her -- El…" …Will smiles, but Mike doesn't offer much of a smile back.

In this beat, we figure out the objective of the scene and who is driving the action (in other words, whose scene it is). Throughout this beat, Mike anxiously checks the map, showing he's being pedantic about the mission details. Yet, by bringing up El, Will makes the first positive change to cheer Mike up, an initial shift away from the somberness. He even smiles at Mike after receiving a dismissive response ("yeah… totally"). His first action to cheer Mike up is clear, and the conflict—Mike's desire to push him away and fret—is opposite to Will's desire to reconnect.

What is at stake for Will is his friendship with Mike, which has been on the fritz since the airport reunion. Throughout the season, he learned he could afford to be lovelorn as long as he had Mike by his side. He understands, or at least thought, El was what Mike valued most. Therefore, his attempt to bring her up had the expectation of reminding Mike of the good times.

The turning point is that it did not work. Mike is unresponsive to El, launching the audience into this scene with Will as we now have to follow his goal of damage control. "He's worried" that he said the wrong thing and that Mike is mad at him again, putting their friendship on the line.

With this groundwork laid out, establishing characters' and scene objectives, we get to the next page, where my first yellow highlight and underline are. Buckle in.

Page 2

This is the first segment I noticed that did not make it from page to screen:

Mike looks out the window for a beat. Just watching the passing desert…

Completely omitted, instead the actor, Finn Wolfhard, or the director, chose for Mike to stay in the moment rather than take a beat. This makes sense in terms of organic flow. Taking a beat so soon after the scene's first turning point could slow momentum. Nevertheless, it is fun to examine how this further contextualizes Mike's character and the conflict.

Perhaps this pensive moment, as he stares out the window into the desert, further isolates Mike. Mike isolating himself also distances Will from his goal to connect. It suggests a very specific shot change to his perspective, shifting toward the outside of the van—his own micro world away from Will. From the way the scene plays out in the show, we never truly get a sense of his reaction to the painting or what he thinks about El supposedly doing it. In interviews, the Duffer brothers promised this would play into season five's plot, and they didn't want to foreshadow too heavily. Therefore, not placing us in his perspective with this beat creates an air of mystery.

Yet, consider if they had allowed Mike to stare out into the desolate, barren image of a desert when reminded about El. As these two ideas—El and desolation—interact, we could derive a new meaning: that he is hopeless, and all the romantic love he had for El is now, or forever was, dried up. Or vice versa, he is reminded that El no longer loves him (a recall of the "from El" note she left him). If this happened, there would no longer be any tension or further questioning of if they still loved each other. Will's goal would feel more easily won in the scene, and Mike's climactic love confession would no longer hold any emotional weight for anyone in the love triangle (as we would've known it was doomed to fail).

It should also be noted that his next line is performed as if it's a question, posing the dramatic question for the next episode, "Does El still need Mike?" In the script, it is curiously punctuated with a period and reads as a statement, as if he's telling Will that she doesn't.

In response to Will saying she does need him, Mike goes:

Mike:"…But the truth is -- I don't believe it. Not really."

I found this little discrepancy noteworthy, mostly due to the punctuation of the two em dashes, which is a cue for the actor to cut himself off. Perhaps this was a conscious decision to conceal the truth of what he was about to say, halting whatever thought was in Mike's head. It could very well be that the line is also meant to sound frantic, a stream of consciousness spewing forth, as it very much does in the final cut.

Maybe what surrounds "I don't believe it" is redundant, therefore cut; however, it's interesting that "truth" was ultimately cut for "believe." So, again, it remains uncertain if Mike's concern is just in his head (and in Will's head, too), rather than definitively real for him. This line, especially, "not really," could also read more as if Mike is already emotionally detached or disinterested in El (e.g. "do you want to play ball?" "not really"). Also within this beat, Will is trying convince Mike he's needed. In what is written, the elaboration is almost like Mike is trying to persuade Will he's got the wrong idea.

Focusing on El as much as Will does, Mike uses her as a crutch in his following argument (below). Conversely what's on screen, he appears self-deprecating, he means to only belittle himself, and shifts the focus on him. Instead of already concluding, he still ponders.

Mike: "…She's going to realize that deep down I'm -- I'm… She's already beginning to understand she doesn't need me. I saw it -- I saw it in her eyes, that last time we talked."

I outlined this omission to again harp on the usage and meaning of the em dash. Here, Mike stops himself from revealing the truth of who he is "deep down," and instead uses a Superman and Lois Lane analogy to describe his relationship with El. This seems to be the case of the former, where his primary motivation for stopping himself is to conceal (based on syntax). It's as if he was getting dangerously close to a truth that must not be spoken.

This succession of ideas, from having to conceal who he is to comparing El to a muscular male superhero, naturally concludes that deep down he is closeted. Previously, he wasn't afraid to admit to Lucas at school or to El during their fight that he was a bullied nerd. Consequently, being a nerd wouldn't be a deep-rooted fear he'd be terrified of her realizing.

When the gender-neutral term "superhero" or the feminine version "Supergirl" was right there, the writers purposely chose for Mike to grasp for the masculine version. Although the scene is preoccupied with Will's pseudo coming-out storyline, this draft actually has Mike be the one to (unknowingly) blurt out that he's a closeted homosexual in an even less subtle way than the gift of a heart-themed painting.

Again, while the final scene leaves the question of whether or not El still likes Mike unanswered, this version definitely closes that case when he says, with definitive proof, he "saw" she doesn't need him.

Will: "You're scared of losing her." Mike nods. Yeah. Will just nailed it.

After the missing "realize that deep down" line re-contextualized this scene for me, this next turning point, where Will tests Mike by disclosing his fear—the one he decided not to say—adds new meaning to the word "scared." His reasons for being scared have to do with themes of shame and sexual repression, where the former subject is far less obvious in the screen translation.

Will understands perfectly because he is scared of Mike pushing him away if he finds out Will is gay and in love with him. Perhaps, Mike is afraid of losing El if she determines his similar secret. The threat of exposure and being ostracized looms large. The fact that Will, a confirmed gay character, clocked Mike, recognized their similar strife, directly compares their sexualities (as if who's holding the painting doesn't already do that).

Mike nods and opens the door an inch to invite Will to present his painting—his veiled love confession (set up by El's opening monologue). Will hesitates as this was a surprise, but now he doubles down after they suddenly understand each other. Screw it. His goal towards reconnection is restated. He passes off the painting as if it's a baton—will Mike reciprocate?

Page 3

[Mike's] breath catches.

Despite this suggesting a positive reaction where for the first time Mike shifts from somber to thrilled, I also highlighted it in blue. This is slightly different than what occurred in this specific moment, where instead Mike beamed and chuckled in response. Still romantic, but not this clear-cut romantic trope.

Here, his baited breath could mean relief—he was afraid of what the painting might hold and relieved that it is, in fact, Mike's. The dread of shame, a mixture of homophobia and rejection, made this moment a risk for Will. And, for Mike, who might've assumed the painting was for someone else, a gift "for a girl."

In the painting, they are heroes (a paladin and a cleric) bravely facing evil, lovers (symbolized in the heart coat of arms), and they can be themselves, their nerdy D&D characters. The themes of this painting closely following Bowie's Heroes lyrics, about overcoming oppression and "shame."

Mike says, "you painted this," to Will, addressing and praising him. This is an unexpected twist for someone who thought he was an invisible third wheel. Mike says "you," but Will's point wasn't about receiving acknowledgment; he's been in the supportive role up until this point. So he flushes in a state of panic (using three em dashes), then immediately hides due to the ingrained sense of guilt and humiliation the closet gives him.

Supporting this interpretation is the next stricken line:

Will: "…It's really scary to be different."

The Stranger Things writers use the root word "scared" and "scary" to describe both Mike and Will on several accounts throughout the season, more so within this scene pre-changes. Now, "scary" and "different" in the same sentence further converges Mike's scary thought of losing El with being different. And we know, that when Will is talking about being different, he is referring to himself and how he is gay. Clearly outlined in this word arrangement, being scared directly relates to the idea of repressed homosexuality.

Just to drive home the idea that Will is in fact talking about himself, and not El, using her to shield his true feelings and desires, the focus shifts to Jonathan's outsider perspective who mirrors the audience.

Jonathan now begins to sense that Will is not just talking about El -- but also himself.

As Will is using El to make a veiled confession in this scene, one starts to wonder if the writers intended on Mike also doing the same thing with his true feelings.

The word "scared" is repeated twice again, but this time it makes it into the final cut. After Jonathan's reaction shot and the change in camera placement, outside the window looking in—that swapped Mike's omitted pensive window beat and gave it to Will—audiences mentally derive that Will also means himself.

By borrowing from Mike's deleted beat, we also know Will is watching the passing desert—the barren landscape expounding his hopeless state of mind. As soon as he got flustered, he immediately retreated behind El. The fear of losing his friend and the ultimate goal of maintaining that friendship is realized when Mike unexpectedly reciprocates, at least in admiration ("This is -- amazing").

Page 4

Once one replaces the feminine pronouns she/her with the first person singular I/me, to better understand Will and the writer's meaning, it becomes clear that El is a defense for Mike as well.

Will: "…it's probably because [I] was scared of losing you. Just as you're scared of losing [me]… because losing you -- it just hurts -- it hurts too much."

Missing is the last line that reads more direct than what was previously said before. It pinpoints Will's exact emotion in this moment, "hurt". Despite the absence of this dialogue the meaning still remains, conveyed much more organically and effectively as actor Noah Schnapp instead is on the brink of tears. Still, the way Will breaks then starts, "Because losing you," makes his feelings for Mike much more explicit with the feminine pronoun now missing in the new sentence.

Will takes a "beat" while almost through with his monologue, as if gaining either composure or confidence, "emotional" and slipping in and out of the feminine pronoun.

This is where the scene shifts again, Will indirectly tells Mike he's in love with him. The writers use "need" as a substitute for love, just like El is a substitute for Will, so to not put an fine point on it ("[I love] you Mike. And [I] always will").

In response, Mike is mutually "emotional". He is overwhelmed, attempting to process everything Will just said, but if he didn't feel the same way, his emotional charge would be negative. Their relationship has now been changed by this confession. Sadly, Will loses his grip on their friendship—after doing this, he can no longer think of Mike as his friend, only as something more. For Mike, he potentially just realized he's in love.

These missing lines extend the fulcrum, or final plot point of the scene:

Mike: "You really think so?" Will: "I know so."

Replacing Will and Mike's use of first-person singular pronouns is "Yeah? Yeah," in the similar vein to, "Cool. Cool." Using the same words suggests a similar wave length. And, the moment and meaning isn't totally missing due to the actors being able to say these lines without really saying them. Still, the end result would have a totally different outcome.

If Mike had said "you," it would bring into question if he perhaps saw through Will's charade. By directly addressing him, it is as if Mike desires Will's answer to the dramatic question, not El's. In other words, Mike would be asking if Will needed him (letting it slip he has Will on his brain). And when Will would answer "I know so," confirming this, it would cement that it was a charade the entire time as he lets slip the feminine pronoun for his final point. An intimate ending like this between Will and Mike, crossing the boundaries of pretense, would most definitely confuse the motivation going into the "Piggyback" sequence, especially if Mike knew how Will felt.

Mike ends on a high note, "feeling better." Meanwhile, Will leaves on a much more emotional low point that somber—"melancholy" (-). Now he is the one to look out of the window, as the scenes ends with distant stares into a freeway endlessly stretching ahead. The emotional image of a desolate, arid land emblematic of isolation and shame returns.

He's just made his confession in someone else's name, and that image of an endless freeway signifies forever, no end in sight to thinking he'll ever be able to say how he truly feels. In the actual scene, Will cries into his palm suppressing his tears and his feelings.

Conclusion

By meticulously examining the original script, we can trace how the description as well as subtle and significant changes to dialogue informs one of the series' most powerful emotional moments. From the deliberate use of golden light to bathe Will in a romantic glow, to the omission of Mike's pensive moment looking at the desert, every change reframed the scene's emotional stakes.

These script-to-screen adjustments also transformed Mike's character, where we shift further away from his perspective and an easier read on his sexuality into ambiguity to keep dramatic tension. Ultimately, what is left on the page reveals a more overt vignette of two boys navigating shame and repressed feelings. And it is ultra clear that even if Will didn't see it, his confession left a positive change (+) in Mike by the end.

[thetheoryisalie]

how funny would it be if will byers just walked into mike wheeler's room and acknowledged mike's buff dragon poster like there is no need for dialogue i just need will definitely judging it as mike looks mortified as hell once he realizes will's seen it

[thetheoryisalie]

I think it would be funny if instead of hopper being like "why do you keep dating my kids" mike goes "i had them first - why do you keep adopting my situationships"

[thetheoryisalie]

We know that Max is likely going to escape Vecna's mind prison somehow. It's really important to me that, for the sake of symbolism, she does it on her skateboard this time.

In that same vein, it's important to me, too, that we see Jonathan taking pictures again. Both Max and Jonathan were going through things that really challenged their sense of identity in s4, and I think that's why both of them lost their passions in that season. Jonathan stopped doing photography and Max stopped skateboarding. But they've gone through the conflict and come out the other side, thanks to the help of the people in their lives. So, they're ready to pick up those passions again, this time in perhaps a healthier way than they were using them before (in S3, Jonathan was using photography to hide from the problems Nancy was facing in her job and Max has sometimes used skateboarding to run away from situations she should have engaged with more).

[thetheoryisalie]

The history of homosexuality in the 20th century until the 80s to better understand the general mentality in Stranger Things

The excellent analysis of the presence of triangles around Mike and all the meaning behind them by the brilliant @eeriesilkworm made me want to expand on the part where she discusses the use of the pink triangle for homosexuals during World War II in Nazi concentration camps. I believe that providing historical context, even if it takes place years before the events in Stranger Things, is not only a strong indicator of the depth of the symbolism the show’s artistic team is implementing, but also crucial to understanding how the widespread and normalized homophobia depicted in Stranger Things actually existed in real life during the 1980s—and why it is important to recognize the extent of the homophobia and oppression that prevailed at the time. It seems to me that those most skeptical about the idea of Mike concealing his homosexuality by dating a girl are often unaware of the severity of the oppression faced by the LGBTQ+ community in that era.

If I were to make a chronological post about the history of homosexuality, it would last for hours, and it would be impossible to mention everything, especially since, depending on the country and culture, the history of this community is not the same. I will focus mainly on the situation in pre-war Europe and the United States.

To begin somewhere within this dense topic, I will talk about Magnus Hirschfeld, a Jewish German neurologist. Very early in his life, he committed himself to fighting against the discrimination faced by homosexuals. In 1897, he founded in Berlin the “Scientific-Humanitarian Committee,” the first association in history dedicated to defending homosexual rights. His goal was clear: to abolish Paragraph 175 of the German Penal Code, which criminalized homosexual relations between men. To achieve this, the committee conducted investigations, carried out research, and relied on testimonies. For the first time, homosexuality was studied based on genuine scientific and medical reasoning.

The committee had a simple yet powerful motto: “Through science to justice.” Hirschfeld sought to prove that homosexuality was neither a choice, nor an illness, nor a perversion, but a natural and irrepressible orientation. In its struggle, the committee received support from major figures of the time, including Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, Émile Zola, Leo Tolstoy, and many others.

In 1898, a bill was introduced to abolish Paragraph 175, but it failed. Nevertheless, this first attempt marked the beginning of a struggle. For the first time, a sexual minority organized itself, advocated, and spoke in its own name. For the first time, doctors, intellectuals, and jurists publicly asserted that homosexuality was neither a crime nor a disease. But at the dawn of the 20th century, another world was emerging—a world more violent, more ideological, more deeply structured around hatred. The fight for homosexual rights, barely begun, was about to face the two greatest political upheavals of the coming century. This time, the consequences would be monumental.

At the beginning of the 20th century, the progress achieved at the end of the previous century endured for a time. Slightly more visible than before, homosexuality continued to be theorized. Thanks to the work of Carl Maria Kertbeny and Magnus Hirschfeld with his Scientific-Humanitarian Committee, the first homosexual movement began to emerge. This movement for homosexual rights developed mainly in Germany but also found echoes elsewhere in Europe and in the United States.

Art, too, began to embrace the subject: in France, in 1911, the writer André Gide anonymously published Corydon. For the first time in the history of French literature, an author dared to openly champion love between men. The same was true for Marcel Proust, the most celebrated author of his era, whose homosexuality inspired characters in his masterpiece In Search of Lost Time (À la recherche du temps perdu), one of the volumes of which is significantly titled Sodom and Gomorrah. In 1909, Akademos—the first French magazine to address homosexual culture—was founded by the poet Jacques d’Adelswärd-Fersen. Though it lasted only a year, it nonetheless reflected a new creative ferment.

Then came the First World War: four years of violence, combat, and trenches, but also of camaraderie at the front. In the trenches, men lived side by side, and social mixing reached unprecedented levels. In this world where women were absent and death was omnipresent, sexuality found other forms of expression, and deep bonds formed between soldiers. Officially, homosexuality at the front did not exist; it remained illegal in most of the European countries engaged in the war and was legally punished in the armed forces. The subject remained taboo for decades and was almost never addressed.

In France, it was not until 2014 that the Historical Service of the Ministry of Defence (the SHD) opened its files and made its archives available to allow historians to work on the subject—literally only ten years ago. Yet, many letters exchanged between soldiers have been found, some revealing deep, even romantic, affection. Some historians believe that not all of these relationships were homosexual in the modern sense of the term, but rather circumstantial—linked to the absence of women, the need for tenderness, warmth, and human connection in an environment where violence was extreme and daily. Military reports sometimes euphemistically referred to such cases as “excesses of camaraderie.”

As one might imagine, the high commands did not look kindly upon soldiers engaging in such acts. In the French army, for example, there is the case of Corporal Jean Auguste Moret, executed in 1915 for “abandoning his post in the presence of the enemy.” In reality, military reports indicate that Corporal Moret had left his trench to inform the chaplain of cases of homosexuality within his squad. An embarrassing matter, it was quickly covered up by the French general staff, which silenced the corporal for good. On the British side, 270 soldiers were court-martialed and imprisoned for “indecent acts.”

But the First World War, which took millions of men away from their homes, was also an unprecedented space of freedom for female homosexuality. During the war, women entered the public sphere in massive numbers, working in factories, hospitals, and even the military sector. This upheaval of the traditional social order, combined with the prolonged absence of men, opened new spaces of closeness between women. In Scars Upon My Heart, for example—an anthology of poetry by women who experienced the war—several texts speak of the pain of separation between women or the comfort found in the arms of a female comrade.

Another example is Radclyffe Hall, a British poet and novelist who volunteered for the Red Cross during the war and took the opportunity to set up home with her partner. After the war, Hall published The Well of Loneliness in 1928, a novel deeply inspired by that period, depicting a lesbian woman serving as an ambulance driver at the front. The book reflects a new reality: that of women freed from traditional marital frameworks, discovering the possibility of loving and desiring differently.

This assertion of female desire beyond the norm was not limited to the Anglo-Saxon world. At the same time in Spain, another figure emerged: Victorina Durán, an artist, feminist activist, and openly lesbian woman, who founded the Sapphic Circle of Madrid. This informal, clandestine network offered a safe space for discussions and exchanges among women sharing the same sexual orientation.

The First World War, in addition to redrawing the map of Europe, thus triggered a profound societal upheaval that called into question a number of established principles. Meanwhile, in Russia, the October Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 radically altered the political and social climate, as homosexual acts were decriminalized by Lenin as early as December of that year.

The interwar period therefore saw an increasingly assertive homosexual identity. In London, Paris, Vienna, New York, and Berlin, homosexual meeting places multiplied, and more and more activist movements formed to demand the decriminalization of homosexuality. In Berlin, Magnus Hirschfeld continued his fight against the infamous Paragraph 175, still in force. He even succeeded in having the German police grant transvestism permits upon presentation of a medical certificate that he issued through the Institute of Sexology, a private body he founded in 1919 to serve as a research center on homosexuality and transgender identity.

In this climate of relative tolerance from the authorities, the first homosexual anthem was written in 1921: Das Lila Lied. Its author, Kurt Schwabach, a lyricist for Berlin’s most prominent cabarets, dedicated the song to Magnus Hirschfeld.

Homosexuality also experienced a new golden age across the Atlantic, particularly in New York’s Harlem during the Harlem Renaissance. The singer Gladys Bentley, openly lesbian, performed in a tuxedo in jazz clubs, playing with her androgynous image. She sang openly suggestive lyrics recounting her romantic adventures with women. She is considered one of the first drag kings in history.

Yet this relative interlude of freedom would ultimately prove short-lived. After the financial crash of 1929, political tensions and the rise of authoritarian regimes put an end to this tentative opening. Little by little, cabarets closed, publications were banned, and homosexuals came under surveillance. The noose tightened, and the horizon of freedom narrowed. The European totalitarian regimes—Mussolini’s Italy, Stalin’s USSR, Franco’s Spain, and Hitler’s Germany—would go on to persecute, hunt down, and criminalize homosexuality as never before.

In the USSR, Stalin personally reinstated the criminalization of homosexuality in 1933. Sexual relations between men were punishable by up to five years in the gulag, and although the law did not explicitly mention relations between women, the Soviet authorities were nonetheless repressive toward them—particularly on a social and psychiatric level. In fact, Stalin associated homosexuality with mental illness, framing it as a personality disorder linked either to bourgeois decadence or to fascist perversion.

In Mussolini’s fascist Italy, no law officially criminalized homosexuality. According to Mussolini, such a law was unnecessary—after all, in Italy, there were supposedly only virile, dominant, active men. Yet, in 1938, the fascist regime enacted measures to isolate homosexuals, viewing them as a threat to moral order. Men suspected of homosexuality were exiled, most notably to the island of San Domino in the Tremiti archipelago of the Adriatic Sea. This was a form of silent social “purification,” in which homosexuality was monitored, isolated, and silenced.

But it was under Nazi Germany that the persecution would be the most violent. From the moment they came to power in 1933, the Nazis targeted homosexuals as enemies of the State. For Hitler, homosexuality was an ideological and moral danger that threatened the virility of the nation and the birth rate of Germany. Homosexual organizations were banned, Magnus Hirschfeld’s Institute of Sexology was attacked, looted, and its works destroyed in the first Nazi book burnings.

In 1935, Nazi authorities amended Paragraph 175, which criminalized homosexuality, to make it harsher. It no longer punished only sexual acts but any behavior deemed homosexual. As a result, arrests soared, and between 1936 and 1939 there were more than 8,000 convictions per year. It is estimated that between 50,000 and 100,000 men were arrested for homosexuality under the Third Reich.

This policy of repression became even more brutal after the opening of the first concentration camps, as between 10,000 and 15,000 homosexuals were deported to places such as Dachau or Lichtenburg. In the camps, homosexuals were identified by an inverted pink triangle sewn onto their uniforms and were prohibited from contact with other prisoners to prevent “moral contagion.” They often endured especially harsh treatment and were subjected to torture, forced castration, and even medical experimentation. At Buchenwald, for example, SS officer Carl Værnet attempted to “cure” homosexuality by implanting testosterone capsules in men he used as test subjects.

Pierre Seel, a Frenchman of Alsatian origin arrested at the age of 17 for frequenting a park known as a gay meeting spot, was sent to Schirmeck, a Nazi “re-education” camp in Alsace. In his memoirs, he recounted witnessing his partner being torn apart alive by dogs trained by the guards—a chilling testimony that was not published until 1994.

After 1945, with the fall of Nazism, the subject remained a long-standing taboo in post-war society. At the Nuremberg Trials, the crimes committed against homosexuals were never mentioned, and surviving homosexuals were not recognized as victims of Nazism. Worse still, some were even imprisoned under Paragraph 175, which remained in force in the Federal Republic of Germany until 1994. It was only in 2002 that Germany officially rehabilitated homosexual deportees.

The 20th century thus saw homosexuality swing between extremes: on one side, the first struggles for greater recognition, and on the other, authoritarian regimes and wars that brought about unprecedented persecution. But after the Second World War, the world began to change, and although many countries continued to criminalize homosexuality, modern societies evolved, and homosexual movements soon emerged, demanding greater recognition, visibility, and freedom—or simply the right to exist.

At the end of the Second World War, the focus was on reconstruction—but for homosexuals, liberation had not come. Repressive laws remained in force, Paragraph 175 still stood in Germany, and homosexuality continued to be seen as a mental illness or a social scourge. As the world gradually split into two distinct blocs—the Soviet East and the Western West—the condition of homosexuals remained persecuted, regardless of the political model.

The USSR, still ruled by Stalin, continued to enforce Article 121 of the Soviet Penal Code, which made homosexuality a crime punishable by five years in the gulag. It was therefore a subject that remained taboo in Soviet society. Sergei Eisenstein, for example, the great filmmaker and central figure of Soviet cinema, always hid his homosexuality to the extent of marrying his secretary in what appears to have been an unconsummated marriage. This repressive policy of the Soviet regime became a standard exported to the rest of the communist bloc, including Poland, Romania, Albania, and even Cuba. Fidel Castro, the island’s first communist leader from 1959 onward, regarded homosexuality as a bourgeois mental illness. In Cuba, homosexuals were even imprisoned in forced labor camps—the Unidades Militares de Ayuda a la Producción—where those considered “deviants” were supposedly to be re-educated.

On the American side, the situation was hardly better. At the war’s end, homosexuality was still classified as a psychiatric disorder, and sodomy remained punishable by prison sentences in many U.S. states. In the 1950s, as the Cold War raged, a political and ideological witch hunt erupted: this was the era of McCarthyism, named after U.S. Senator Joseph McCarthy. It was an unrelenting campaign to root out communists infiltrated into American institutions—so-called “enemies from within.” This became known as the “Red Scare.” What is often forgotten, however, is that American homosexuals were also regarded as an internal threat. Seen as more vulnerable to blackmail, morally unstable, even inherently disloyal, the U.S. administration believed homosexuals could be manipulated by the enemy because of their shameful secrets.

As a result, homosexuals were hunted down alongside communists—this was called the “Lavender Scare.” Between the 1940s and the 1960s, a true purge swept through government administrations, particularly in diplomacy, the military, and intelligence services. Thousands of civil servants were dismissed for actual or suspected homosexuality. The Eisenhower administration went so far as to formally ban the hiring of homosexuals in the federal civil service in 1953. This hunt naturally fueled a climate of social paranoia, in which homosexuality became a suspicion, a danger, and a taboo.

It was not until the 1960s that real change began to emerge. The decade was marked by a profound transformation of attitudes known as the “sexual revolution.” This was a cultural, political, and social movement that challenged the traditional moral order based on patriarchy, religion, and the repression of desire. In essence, it was the moment when sexuality began to be separated from procreation. Thanks in part to the widespread availability of the contraceptive pill, feminism gained new ground, denouncing the control of women’s bodies. But the sexual revolution also broke a fundamental barrier around marginalized sexualities, such as homosexuality. For the first time since the war’s end, this taboo was discussed openly. This loosening of morals did not resolve everything, but it prepared the ground for the struggles to come.

And it would not take long. The real historical turning point came in New York on the night of June 27–28, 1969. At that time, the city prohibited men from cross-dressing, from dancing together, and even from being served alcohol if they were homosexual. Yet certain hidden places existed to allow society’s outcasts to celebrate despite the prohibitions. One bar became more famous than the rest: the Stonewall Inn. Run by the Mafia, it was one of the few establishments to welcome homosexuals, drag queens, transgender people, the homeless, hippies, drug users, and more.

Police raids were frequent, involving identity checks, arbitrary arrests, and public humiliation. But in the night of June 27–28, 1969, during yet another raid, something changed. The patrons refused to submit. It was the last straw. The police intervention quickly escalated; a crowd gathered, fought back, and pushed the police away. A full-blown riot broke out around the Stonewall and lasted several days. For the first time, the homosexual community did not bend—it defended itself, claimed its right to exist, and formed a movement.

In the months that followed, activist groups sprang up in several major U.S. cities to organize a movement of demands. The “Gay Liberation Front” (GLF), for example, was the first structured militant movement to emerge in the summer of 1969. The GLF did not merely seek tolerance—it demanded total liberation. To achieve this, it organized demonstrations, distributed leaflets, founded activist newspapers, and worked to bring homosexuality out of the shadows. On June 27–28, 1970, one year after the Stonewall riots, the first Pride marches were held in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and even San Francisco.

This movement gradually spread across the Western world, with groups like the GLF appearing in Canada, England, Switzerland, Germany, and even France, where the Front Homosexuel d’Action Révolutionnaire was founded in 1971. Thus began the creation of modern homosexual activism. The famous rainbow flag, emblem of the LGBT movement, was designed in 1978 by American graphic designer and activist Gilbert Baker for a Pride march in San Francisco.

But as the struggle gained momentum across the world in the 1980s, a brutal and tragic setback occurred with the emergence of AIDS.

Identified in 1983, HIV was quickly associated with male homosexuality due to the high number of cases within the gay community. At the time, the media and resurgent homophobic rhetoric referred to it as a “gay cancer” or “pink plague.” In the United States, televangelist Jerry Falwell, a leading figure of the Christian right, declared, for instance, that AIDS was “a divine punishment against homosexuals.”

More broadly, governments were slow to respond to the epidemic, and fear spread rapidly through societies. Yet, this tragedy also galvanized activism. In France, for example, organizations such as Act Up denounced political inaction and the authorities’ disdain. Though horrific, AIDS became a driving force for visibility and global awareness.

Thanks to Act Up’s hard-hitting actions, to the efforts of Lady Diana—who was among the first public figures to come into direct contact with patients—and to the media coverage surrounding the illness of international stars such as Freddie Mercury, public perceptions of AIDS eventually began to shift. These changes pushed political leaders to invest in research and improve communication about the epidemic.

In the aftermath of this tragedy, homosexual rights advocacy began to find a wider resonance, in step with evolving attitudes.

[thetheoryisalie]

So, so, so...

1979 is the year Will drew his rainbow spaceship...

[Joyce] "When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons. Do you remember that? it was 120 colours. And all your friends, they got you STAR WARS toys, [camera cuts to show Mike] but all you wanted (cuts back to Joyce) to do was draw with all your new colours. And you drew this big spaceship, but it wasn't from a movie. [stammers] It was your spaceship. A rainbow ship is what you called it. And you must have used every colour in the box. I took that with me to Melvald's and I put it up and I told everyone who came in, 'My son drew this.' And you were so embarrassed. [chuckles] But I was so proud. I was so, so proud. (cut to Jonathan, who starts talking about the day Lonnie left)

-> Joyce is the one mostly in focus while she's talking during this scene, plus some cuts to Will to show his reaction. Then there's that one shot of Mike. No other person is shown during the entire monologue, not even Jonathan, who is only shown after Joyce finishes the story to give his own monologue. (scene is at roughly 35 minutes, s2 e8)

Just some food for thought :)

[thetheoryisalie]

So… does byler subtext exist?

I am ridiculously excited to get to the subtext chapter in my screenwriting craft book, Story by Robert McKee. Robert you are thrilling me here! 

I’ve always had a soft spot for subtext, and I think you’ll soon see why. This post was galvanized by a pro-mileven comment I recently saw while celebrating the beauty of the s5 teaser (that neon WSQK sign illuminating the night? Divine.)

The pro-mileven comment in question:

Good stories do have subtext, but good critical thinking skills are still needed to understand which are real and which you’re just thinking or hoping are there. These skills are also needed to understand when characters do something so obviously black and white that there’s no deep subtext needed to understand it. These skills take time, especially for younger people, but falling down the rabbit hole of “Byler evidence” or “Mike is queer” evidence isn’t honing those skills, it’s drowning them. I guess the question you'll need to answer is when Mike & El are still a couple in season 5, were all your analyses wrong?

Now, since I joined in 2022, a big part of my fandom experience has been navigating the different ways people use language. I love language. I'm fascinated by it. And never since art school have I encountered so many different ways people try to communicate their ideas. It's why mileven fans fascinate me so much! I used to root for Mike and El, and I think we were supposed to. And there is some truth in this commenter's statement: good stories do have subtext, and yes, critical thinking is often needed to understand it. Also, yes, Mike and El being a couple in s5 is likely, but it does not mean byler won't happen.

But most prominently, their use of language reveals a subtext: their dogmatic belief that their own understanding of the show is infallible. This one intrigues me most, because it tells us more about mileven fans than it does about the show itself. Are they really so certain of the show's outcome?

I want to look at this bit:

"Skills are needed to understand when characters do something so black and white that there's no deep subtext needed to understand it."

My main man Robbie McKee is shaking his head right now. He ain't got time for nonsense like this, because:

1 - Subtext does not exist to help the viewer 'understand' a surface action that is otherwise nonsensical. It is not a communication aid - rather, it is an aspect of cinematic language that adds to the meaning of the story.

2 - (and Robert is very adamant on this one) There is always, ALWAYS, subtext. The only time there might not be intentional subtext is at the very end, when characters have been 'taken to the limit of human experience' and the writer has exposed the true meaning of the story - but even then, a deeper symbolic meaning may be interpreted.

The reason for this is simple:

Stories are metaphors for life, and life is full of subtext.

Those who don't agree are simply unaware of the subtext that exists all around us constantly, both intentional and unintentional. In fact, its a reason for so much miscommunication in life - which is a major theme of Stranger Things. There's even subtext for why I'm creating this post - maybe you can figure out what it is as you read :)

Now, as we go on, I'll be quoting direct passages from Robert McKee's wonderful book on screenwriting, Story. They'll be in italics and quotations, but bear in mind this book was written in the 90s so any wording should be taken as contextually appropriate. For example, Rob substitutes ‘he’ for ‘any gender’ when referring to the writer, but he explains why he does so in a foreword. Spoiler: it’s for ease. Being economical is typical Robert - and you'll see why later!)

Let’s crack on!

‘Just as a personality structure can be disclosed through psychoanalysis, the shape of a scene’s inner life can be uncovered through a similar inquiry. If we ask the right questions, a scene that speeds past in the reading and hides its flaws brakes into ultra-slow motion, opens up, and reveals its secrets.’ 

PAUSE.

Already, Robert is letting us know that it’s great and good and wonderful and important to analyse your media if indeed you are interested in the craft of storytelling. He probably didn’t think he had to write that one down for us, but sorry Rob, the internet can influence a bitch sometimes.

I mean...

Many pro-milevens are happy to explain away any byler fan as someone who just has a prior agenda to see a gay romance on screen at any cost, which is not only wildly presumptuous but also shows a complete lack of curiosity.

And so few people understand the concept of Mike and Will's romance being latent. That it has future potential, that it is coming into being - and therefore any hints and clues are just that: hints and clues that could support a later reveal, not incontrovertible signs that are supposed to be THE things that show an audience byler is already happening. And some bylers do indeed speak like Mike and Will is inevitable, but honestly, Stranger Things is not a completed work, so anyone who says they know how it will end...

Well. What would Robert think of that? His advice to writers is as follows:

'The audience is not only amazingly sensitive, but as it settles into a darkened theatre its collective IQ jumps 25 points. When you go to the movies, don't you often feel like you're more intelligent than what you're watching? That you know what characters are going to do before they do it? That you see the ending coming long before it arrives? The audience is not only smart, its smarter than most films, and its all a writer can do, using every bit of craft he's mastered, to keep ahead of the sharp perceptions of a focused audience.'

In short, what screenwriter wants their audience to know how their story will end?

And why should you, as a viewer, even want to know?

It's a violation of the story ritual; the pleasure of sitting in 'a darkened room' and watching something play out from beginning to end. I think its worthwhile, in fandom, examining exactly why fans on both sides might need so desperately to speak for Stranger Things when it hasn't finished speaking for itself.

Looking to see where the story might go, however, is part of the joy of being a viewer. The writer wants to keep you hooked; they do everything to peak your curiosity.

But takes like this one confuse the heck outta me:

Do you find them confusing? Do they have you scratching your head, wondering what exactly it is that this person is railing against? Is it subtext itself? Do they think symbolism and subtext truly doesn't exist, that art really is shallow?

That's sad. Clearly my man Robert over here is just a joke to them.

But maybe they simply deny anything that is used as a hint towards byler, for whatever reason. I'm more interested in that, so let's have a closer look.

There's lots to unpack here!

New language! 'Supertext'.

The One Way sign means one thing only

Who Mike loves has been clearly shown both in action and dialogue

First, 'supertext.'

Chill out Officer Callahan, it could be a real term. Let me just consult Robert McKee's book while I loudly sing ‘supertext’ to the tune of 80s funk classic Super Freak by Rick James.

("That girl’s a super text, she’s pretty textyyyyyyy") 

Ok, I'm being facetious; they clearly mean the 'text', as opposed to the 'subtext'. I’m all for inventing new prefixes and suffixes, but I just think that if you're going to discuss the craft of writing, especially in such condescending terms, you should probably use the right words.

So, what's the text?

‘Text means the sensory surface of a work of art. In film, it’s the images onscreen and the soundtrack of dialogue, music, and sound effects. What we see. What we hear. What people say. What people do.

'But subtext is the life under the surface - thoughts and feelings both known and unknown, hidden by behaviour.

Nothing is what it seems. An old Hollywood expression goes: If the scene is about what the scene is about, you’re in deep shit.'

Oh my god.

Does Robert even know how hot and bothered I am right now? My mind is 95% Mike Wheeler and 5% the pressing need to plunge my head into a bucket of ice-cold water.

Second point of contention: 'The One Way sign is just a One Way sign.'

Knowing what we now know about scenes never being what they appear, that doesn't seem very likely. But maybe that commenter thinks other subtext exists, but that the sign itself is not one of them.

Is the sign even subtext?

The text is that Mike is in his bedroom, late for school and needing to get dressed because Nancy is waiting for him.

The subtext is that Nancy and Mike have a fraught relationship, and that Mike's going through a difficult period in his life, signified by the state of his room, his lack of care for personal hygiene (wearing yesterday's clothes), and his tardiness. Oh, and that the letter from El has him preoccupied in a way that for some inexplicable reason contributes to his overall disorganisation and foul mood.

Some people may disagree with this subtext. They may say this understanding is just subjective, that Mike is just a teenage boy so of course he's messy, and it means nothing.

But nothing ever means nothing in a story, because all artists have is subjectivity. Emotion, implication and connotation is their very currency. As Robert McKee's book will show us later, facts and objectivity have no place in a story. Instead, writers work with signifiers that they believe their audience will understand, able to infer reasonable meaning about what is going on.

The other option is bad exposition: telling an audience exactly what is happening in a way that feels contrived. That's bad storytelling; lazy, easy, and undisciplined.

It's reasonable to infer that the state of Mike's bedroom tells us something about him, because not every teenager in this show has a messy bedroom. But Mike does.

Why?

And why does he have that One Way sign on his wall?

I mean, sure, it could just have been a gift or something cool he saw, but it also appears right where Mike's head just was when he bends down, drawing momentary focus to it, and it forms a tongue-in-cheek metaphor for diving straight into the closet. So if that's a coincidence, it's a hilarious one. I would also say this is symbolism rather than subtext.

'Symbolism is very compelling. Like images in our dreams, it invades the unconscious mind and touches us deeply - as long as we're unaware of its presence. If, in a heavy-handed way, we label images as 'symbolic', their effect is destroyed. But if they are slipped quietly, gradually, and unassumingly into the telling, they move us profoundly.'

Don't forget that Robert is speaking to people who want to write screenplays. If you want to write subtext and symbolism, he says, you must be subtle. This alone validates the One Way's sign's potential importance as a symbol of Mike's queerness, despite only being on screen for milliseconds. Perhaps the fact it's only seen briefly is part of its subliminal power.

Another example of symbolic imagery in the show could be El hanging cruciform in Vecna's hellish red lair and the field of flowers dying at the end of s4; things that enrich the telling rather than carry it.

Now for the trickiest and most prevalent take against byler: 'Who Mike loves has been shown in both action and dialogue.'

Let's get into the weeds of what subtext is. Here's a worthy scene to analyse.

Robert McKee says...

‘Often a first draft [of a scene] falls flat or feels forced… the problem won’t be in the scene’s activity, but in its action; not in how characters are talking or behaving on the surface, but in what they’re doing behind their masks.’

‘Nothing is what it seems. This principle calls for the screenwriter’s constant awareness of the duplicity of life, his recognition that everything exists on at least two levels, and that, therefore, he must write a simultaneous duality: first, he must create a verbal description of the sensory surface of life… second, he must create the inner world of conscious and unconscious desire, action and reaction. As in reality, so in fiction: the writer must veil the truth with a living mask, the actual thoughts and feelings of characters behind what they're saying and doing.'

It's time to talk about facts vs. truth, baby.

First, here's some of Robert McKee's Essentials of Being a Good Fiction Writer.

The love of duality - a feel for life’s hidden contradictions and a healthy suspicion that things are not as they seem The love of uniqueness - the thrill of audacity and a stone-faced calm when it is met by ridicule The love of beauty - an innate sense that treasures good writing, hates bad writing, and knows the difference. 

Construct a story in a way no one has ever dreamed, says Robert, including fresh insights into society and human nature coupled with in-depth knowledge of your characters and their world.

In-depth knowledge of your characters and their world.

Sorry to interrupt Robert, but I think I just heard someone say that the Duffers genuinely forgot the date of Will Byers’ birthday despite it being included in the text of the show - in dialogue during a major climactic moment, no less - and that the date of said birthday just coincidentally happened to also be the very same day that Mike Wheeler arrived in Lenora to celebrate spring break, after which a season’s worth of chaos ensued, but that the writers just forgot all of this, or didn’t once think to check. 🎉 🥳 🎁

But sorry Robert, please continue, by telling us what makes a bad fiction writer. 

'The writer of spectacle mistakes kinesis for entertainment, creating an assault on the senses that bears no resemblance to life whatsoever.

Meanwhile the portraiture writer believes that the more precise his observation of day-to-day facts, the more truth he tells. But because this writer sees only what is visible and factual, he is blind to the truth of life. Fact, no matter how minutely observed, is neutral. It is truth with a small ‘t’. Big ‘T’ Truth is located behind, beyond, inside, and below the surface of things, and cannot be directly observed. 

The weakest possible excuse to include something in a story is ‘but it actually happened!’ Everything imaginable happens. Indeed, unimaginable things happen. Mere occurrence brings us nowhere near the truth. What happens is fact, not truth. Truth is what [the writer] thinks about what happens.’ 

So.

It kind of looks like all those arguments about Mike and Will ending up together being unrealistic are moot, doesn't it? Not because the show is about supernatural monsters and a girl who flings stuff in the air with her mind, though. Emotional groundedness is still important, even in fantastical sci-fi.

Stranger Things, however it turns out, will be the Duffers’ views on life and the world, dramatized. If the Duffers want to express a view of the world that includes a teenage gay romance in smalltown 80s America, then they will find a way to do that. What people are saying when they say that byler is 'unrealistic' is that 'The Duffers would never want to tell that story.'

To which I say... really, bro? That's the impression you're getting?

So far, I don’t find the Duffs to be overly concerned with making something just to appease a certain subset of conservative audience members, do you? If so, would they really have chosen to make a show with overt anti-conformity, anti-authority themes that dramatizes a real and declassified US government program involving illegal human experimentation? Seems kind of like asking for trouble if you want plain sailing, don’t you think? 

But what about Mike's actual actions and words? He said he loved El NINE TIMES!!!! AND COUNTING!!!!!!!!

Welp, looks like we've got to look at the meaning of dialogue. Robert, help me out.

‘Text means the sensory surface of a work of art. In film, it’s the images onscreen and the soundtrack of dialogue, music, and sound effects.

Dialogue is not conversation. Eavesdrop on any coffee shop conversation and you’ll realise that you’d never put that slush onscreen. Real conversation is full of awkward pauses and poor word choices, while dialogue requires compression and economy. It must say the maximum in the fewest possible words.’

This makes Stranger Things very interesting, because the conversations themselves are often self-referential, with the narrative acknowledging how the things people say are often different to what they mean. Do you remember when Robert said this:

'An old Hollywood expression goes: If the scene is about what the scene is about, you’re in deep shit.'

‘This means writing on the nose; writing dialogue and activity in which a character’s deepest thoughts and feelings are expressed by what the character says and does, a.k.a writing the subtext into the text.’ 

I love that he said ‘on the nose’ - who else said that in Stranger Things?

Our boy Will :)

Oh, Will is well aware of subtext and implication. Did we really think that, as a young gay boy in small town America, he wouldn't be well-versed in what things might mean?

He even downplays the implication he knows his painting holds, by drawing Mike's attention to the heart, not away from it, yet changing the meaning of that heart into something else. Will is a master at hiding in plain sight.

Now for an example of some bad dialogue with no subtext.

Robert McKee considers the following to be bad, 'on the nose' screenwriting:

‘Two attractive people sit opposite each other at a candlelit table, the light glinting off the crystal wine glasses and the dewy eyes of the lovers. Soft breezes billow the curtains. A Chopin nocturne plays in the background. The lovers reach across the table, touch hands, look longingly in each others’ eyes, say ‘I love you, I love you’ … and actually mean it. 

'This is an un-actable scene and will die like a rat in the road.’

Lmaooooooooo Robert!!

Ok, hackles might be raised now, because I’m sure there’s plenty who want a love confession between Mike and Will where they tell each other their truth. But...

'Actors are not marionettes to mime gestures and mouth words. They’re artists who create with material from the subtext, not the text. An actor brings a character to life from the inside out, from the unspoken, even unconscious thoughts and feelings out to a surface of behaviour.

The candlelit dinner scene is un-actable because it has no inner life, no subtext. It’s un-actable because there’s nothing to act. Self-explanatory dialogue convinces no-one.'

This is what is so interesting about Mike's monologue. Do some fans really believe what he is saying? Are they really happy with the lighting, visuals, mood, tone, music for such a grand - as they think - declaration of love?

Eh, maybe not, but this isn't as important to them as words. For some reason that is beyond me, they think words are superior to other cinematic language, like mood:

Listen, Mike's insecurity is a perfectly valid artistic reason to be unable to say 'I love you'. In fact, it is likely a huge part of his entire struggle - I'm sure we'll return to the Wheeler Family Values in s5.

But the Duffers just had to go and ruin mileven, didn't they, by 'resolving' this storyline with an entire season to go.

If Mike's monologue is genuine, it means they've done that big no-no: they've written the subtext into the text and created an un-actable scene. No wonder people said poor Finn did a terrible job. It also means this scene is 'the end of the line' for Mike and El's romantic arc, making it a subplot that resolved itself long before the story is over.

But we can reasonably infer that Mike and El as a romantic pair will indeed be a part of s5. Obviously they will not just be happily fighting evil side by side, because - and Robert says this in his book - that would be boring as fuck.

Ok, he doesn't actually say boring as fuck.

But he does say that such fantasy would be boring. 'Stories are not daydreams', he says. Mike and El with zero conflict and a perfect relationship throughout s5 is, indeed, a daydream. And a boring one at that. They will have a storyline in s5, and there will be conflict. Therefore this scene is not a resolution, and must contain subtext.

Another big reason why there is clearly more at play here is because these shots form a part of the text:

Will is one thing, but Jon, bro? Get the fuck outta here if this is just a romantic Mike and El moment! Makes no god damn sense.

Some people think the Duffers are totally inept and somehow accidentally included some meaningless shots in the climax of this arc. Some people really think that. I despair for art itself.

But others think 'It's just to let you know that Will is still sad that Mike doesn't love him'.

Let's combine it with this take for maximum impact:

'Mike saying his life started the day he found El in the woods has nothing to do with Will, because it was the day after Will went missing.'

Robert has something to say about this, too:

‘Designing story tests the maturity and insight of the writer, his knowledge of society, nature, and the human heart. Wittingly or unwittingly, all stories faithfully mirror their maker, exposing his humanity… or lack of it.’ 

Ouch!

Stranger Things is unfinished. Therefore, by theorising, we are writing our own version of what we think this story will be. Anyone who writes Will out of this narrative reveals their humanity - or lack of it.

Now, Robert elaborates on the subtext-free, un-actable dinner scene.

‘Why have this couple gone out of their way to create this romantic scene? What’s with the candlelight, soft music, billowing curtains? Why don’t they just take their pasta to the TV like normal people? What’s wrong with this relationship?’ 

Because isn’t that life? When do the candles come out? When everything’s fine? No. When everything’s fine, we take our pasta to the TV like normal people.

So from this insight, the actor will create a subtext. And when we watch, we think: He says he loves her and maybe he does, but look, he’s scared he’s losing her. He’s desperate.'

But wait... how does a writer reveal character to an audience, if we cannot trust their words?

'The character must be tested by an ultimate event, a pressure-filled choice and resulting action.’ 

This is called a dilemma: either the choice between two good things when they can only have one, or a choice between two bad things where they must choose the lesser of two evils. 

'Human nature dictates that each of us will always choose the ‘good’ or the ‘right’ as we perceive it. If a character has an easy choice, where the ‘right’ thing to do is clear, the audience will know in advance what he will choose.'

And no screenwriter wants their audience to be ahead of the game. 

Clearly this is a 'lesser of two evils' moment for Mike. But what higher stakes could there be than El's life? What makes this a dilemma at all? Shouldn't the choice be easy, Mike?

So why did you hesitate?

Maybe Mike's choice was a little more complex than his own vulnerability vs. El's life, as mileven fans believe, hmm?

So what do you think Mike’s actual choice is?

Did he see through Will’s veiled confession, and is now choosing to lie to both El and Will, pretending he loves El to save her life while accepting he will hurt Will in the process?

Or is he still in the dark about Will's feelings, and is lamenting the loss of being able to tell Will he loves him, sacrificing that in order to save El instead - the one in more dire need?

I'm not even sure we're supposed to know yet. It's all a big cliffhanger mystery, left unresolved to keep us on our toes going into the final season. But no matter which theory you believe, it's clear that any lie Mike told was a white one - a lie with good intentions.

'Subtext doesn't make people insincere. It’s a common sense recognition that we all wear a public mask. We say and do what we feel we should, while we think and feel something else altogether. As we must. We realise we can’t go around saying and doing what we’re actually thinking and feeling.'

Robert acknowledges that humans typically choose not to express how they truly feel, sometimes out of self-preservation - especially the things that we fear society might not accept - but usually because so few of us truly even know ourselves.

Either way, Mike is ever the paladin. He sacrifices, in some way, himself - always.

Now, if you’ve got the energy, here’s a final exercise. I’m so excited about this, and I hope you’ll stay for this last piece. 

In Story, Robert McKee includes a method of analysis to break scenes apart and make them give up their subtextual secrets. He also shows you how to write a love scene that is filled with subtext, to contrast that monologue un-actable candlelit dinner. 

‘Picture two people changing the tire on a car. It’s a virtual textbook on how to change a flat. All dialogue is about wrenches, spanners and jacks. 

“Hand me that, would ya?” “Watch out.” “Don’t get dirty.” “Let me just… whoops.”

Beneath the text, the actors will interpret the real action of the scene, so leave room for them to bring romance to life wholly from the inside. As their eyes meet and sparks fly, we’ll know what’s happening because it’s in the unspoken thoughts and emotions of the actors. As we see through the surface, we’ll lean back and smile:

‘Look what happened. They’re not just changing the tire on a car. He thinks she’s hot and she knows it. Boy has met girl.’ 

Oof! Boy meets girl, a tale as old as time. But what about boy meets boy, hmm? Could two boys lock eyes while changing a tire?

Or, perhaps, while packing to escape the military?

Are locked eyes and flying sparks exclusive to heterosexual people? 

I don’t think so. 

So, to finish, we’re going to do Robert’s subtext analysis on the infamous Dear Billy heart to heart.

Step 1: Define conflict. 

Who drives the scene, motivates it, makes it happen? I think it’s Mike. He comes to Will’s room. Therefore we must ask:

What’s the subtext of Mike’s actions here? What does he want?

Desire is always the key, or as it’s called by actors, the scene objective.

So what does Mike want? To reconcile with Will?

Now look at which forces of antagonism are blocking Mike’s desire. Is it the military, come to capture everyone?

Nope, no military are here yet.

The force of antagonism is, instead, Will.

How interesting. This lil guy, with his utter surprise that Mike is even talking to him?

An antagonistic force isn't always a villain - instead, just the force that prevents a protagonist getting what they want.

What does Will want at the start of this scene?

To keep packing? On the surface, perhaps - in the text. But the subtext of that is… what? To find out, we must find the opening value of the scene. What Will wants should be in direct opposition to what Mike wants.

Step 2: Find the opening value of the scene. 

If anyone saw my previous post about the potential values of Stranger Things, I theorised they are Truth/Lies or Freedom/Slavery. But what’s the value at stake here in this scene specifically, when Mike enters Will’s room?

I think it’s Self Preservation/Openness, or Peace/Conflict - because Mike and Will have been arguing. The protagonist who actively drives the scene (Mike) is in the negative of this value; he has been surly and dishonest with Will, and they have unresolved conflict after their Rink-O-Mania fight. 

So what does Will want, in direct contrast to Mike?

To keep the peace. To protect himself. To not let Mike in. He isn’t ready.

(An alternative view would be that Mike himself is also his own antagonist. You could do this exercise by viewing Mike as battling against himself, too.)

Step 3: break the scene into beats

A beat is an exchange of behaviour between characters, action -> reaction. Look at what they are literally doing, and also what they are actually doing beneath the surface with emotion attached to it. Name this subtextual action with an active phrase, such as ‘pleading’.

Action -> reaction.

Mike -> Will. 

Text and subtext. 

And keep in mind the value of peace vs. conflict.

Beat 1:

Mike comes into Will’s room, readying to leave.

Mike’s subtextual action: approaching Will. 

Will: ‘Packed already?’

Will’s subtextual reaction: diffusing potential tension with small talk. 

Mike: ‘I never really unpacked’. Mike sits down on Will’s bed. 

Mike’s subtextual action: making himself at home + a further hidden symbolic subtext within the dialogue that suggests he is keeping secrets.  

Will keeps packing, facing away from Mike.

Will’s subtextual reaction: refusing to further acknowledge him. 

Beat 2:

Mike thanks Will for giving him a reality check.

Mike’s action: trying to get Will’s attention.

Will - ‘I didn’t say it.’ 

Will’s reaction: playfully teasing. 

Mike - ‘You didn’t have to.’ 

Mike’s action: reciprocating the teasing. 

Will smiles and turns away, speechless.

Will’s reaction: protecting himself.

Mike smiles at Will’s turned head, then shakes himself.  

Mike’s action: redirecting his tactics. 

Beat 3:

Mike: ‘Hey also, erm, about the other day...’ 

Mike’s action: apologizing.

Will: ‘You don’t have to say anything…’

Will’s reaction: resisting. 

Mike: 'No, no, you didn’t do anything…'

Mike’s action: insisting.

Will turns to him in surprise.

Will’s reaction: paying attention.

Beat 4:

Mike starts explaining himself and how he has felt over their time apart. 

Mike’s action: humbling himself. 

Will sits and listens.

Will’s reaction: listening. 

Mike tells Will that he sets him apart from their other friends. 

Mike’s action: confessing.

Will keeps listening.

Will’s reaction: considering him.

Mike asks if he is making any sense. 

Mike’s action: wanting to be understood.

Will nods.

Will’s reaction: understanding him.

Beat 5:

Mike: ‘I have no idea what’s going to happen next.’ Glances away and back.

Mike’s action: making himself vulnerable. 

Will listens still.

Will’s reaction: anticipating.

Mike asks Will if they can be a team, friends once again. 

Mike’s action: supplicating/pleading. 

Will nods.

Will’s reaction: yielding.

Mike pauses, then says that he wants to be best friends again.

Mike’s action: showing Will that he listens to him.

Will: ‘Cool.’ 

Will’s reaction: making himself vulnerable.

Mike smirks and repeats Will’s ‘Cool’. 

Mike’s action: solidifying his reconnection with Will. 

Well well well.

Do you remember what we said about the value of the scene being Conflict/Peace or Self-Preservation/Openness? What value did we start on? 

Negative. 

And what value are we ending on? 

Positive. It looks like Mike got his desire: he reconciled with Will. No wonder the boy looks so smug. 

But what of Will, as the antagonist here? He did not get his way: to keep protecting himself from Mike.

If we look at the overall pattern of action -> reaction in this scene, the theme is of Mike approaching and Will resisting, over and over again until finally, Will succumbs. Maybe what Will wanted for himself was not something that would actually have benefitted him in the long run. As so often, Will is his own worst enemy. 

But this scene is a favourite for a reason - there is more than one layer of subtext here.

We have the text of what Mike and Will are saying and doing - coming into a bedroom, packing, having a conversation.

We have the context: They've been fighting. There's tension. El is missing, and it is the first time in many months that Mike and Will have been properly alone. What will happen?

We have dramatic irony: the audience knows Will is gay and attracted to Mike, but Mike doesn't. You might reasonably infer a subtext that Will both enjoys and is self-conscious about Mike looking at his body. The camera is certainly not shy about including Will's ass prominently in frame, showing us exactly what Mike can see.

And now we have the first subtext: Mike and Will don't need words to understand each other. And isn’t it fascinating that, despite Will being on his knees, it is Mike, in the end, who is the one pleading?

But look! Good friends can understand each other without words, too. It might not mean anything!

But remember - the good writer must stay two steps ahead. And because good stories well told are not just about the what, they are about the how... they use elements of both the text and subtext together to create yet another layer of meaning that rises slowly to the surface.

That meaning? Tentative romantic interest.

We have a tender melody: 'On the Bus.'

We have a slow tempo and warm lighting, creating comfort and safety.

We have camerawork that pans in slowly, creating a mood of intimacy and curiosity and asking us to look closely at their faces and question their inner thoughts.

We have the acting itself: facial expressions and body language that convey a mood of tentative physical interest and flirtation.

What would Robert say?

As their eyes meet and sparks fly, we know what’s happening because it’s in the unspoken thoughts and emotions of the actors. As we see through the surface, we’ll lean back and smile: ‘Look what happened. They’re not just packing, or talking about their friendship. He thinks he’s hot, and he knows it.'

Listen, there may well be plenty of people who genuinely don't see this as flirtatious for whatever reason. Seeing as Stranger Things is unfinished, it doesn't really matter. No one should rob those viewers of the pleasure of having their own insights while watching the rest of the story themselves. We all came to byler at our own pace.

But there will also be people who deny this could be romantic for other reasons. They might say:

'Mike wouldn't be flirting with Will, because he's not gay / in love with Eleven / doesn't fancy Will.'

There are two approaches to life: adapt new data into your understanding and work from there, whether you like it or not, or alter new data to fit your existing worldview. It doesn't matter that you don't think Mike is gay, or that he'd never like Will, or he still loves Eleven, because a good storyteller parses out exposition little by little, and we are being shown, not only in subtext but in the text, that Mike Wheeler is smiling flirtatiously at Will Byers - so now what?

Well, they might say:

2. 'This isn't flirting, he is just smiling at Will.'

Give me a break. This is not a smile. This is a smirk.

But, what is the thing we must acknowledge? Art is subjective. And because Stranger Things is still unfinished, both byler and mileven are reasonably inferred outcomes right now. You could make a case for them both.

The question instead becomes: do you think the Duffers are writing a good story, well told?

Have the Duffers chosen to write bad exposition, un-actable scenes with no subtext and a simpler plot? Have they brushed off their own mistakes and neglected to know their characters inside out?

Or do they instead have a mastery of their craft, a comprehensive understanding of their characters that goes beyond anything the audience can yet imagine, and the ability to lay depths of subtextual groundwork and show empathy for all kinds of characters?

I've seen milevens openly say that the editing in the monologue was shoddy and that the epilogue of s4 should be redone, but that they are happy to accept what they even they see as a badly written story as long as it's the outcome they want.

Me? Not so much. Remember what Robert said?

The love of beauty - an innate sense that treasures good writing, hates bad writing, and knows the difference. 

I'm a byler fan because all signs, from my man Robert McKee and beyond, point to byler being the better story - not just in content or theme, but in craft.

Not just a good story - a good story, well told.

[thetheoryisalie]

It's All Relative:

Mike Wheeler’s bedroom isn’t just queer-coded, it’s politically charged in context — thanks to this print.

Alternative title: Triangles, triangles and more fucking triangles.

The more you look, the clearer it becomes that Mike's bedroom is an absolute masterclass in queer-coded set design.

I probably don’t need to address the famous "one way" sign pointing to the closet — that symbolism should be obvious. However, I do want to focus on the print which has been placed (quite intentionally) beneath it:

Relativity (1953) by M. C. Escher

Relativity is one of Escher’s most recognizable works. It’s a lithograph (originally a woodcut) that depicts a labyrinth of staircases inside a world where the normal laws of gravity do not apply. In fact, it appears to have three centres of gravity occupying the same space.

It plays with dimensions, which is fitting for a show like Stranger Things which is about alternate dimensions. The three gravitational forces could even be referencing the three known dimensions within Stranger Things: The Rightside Up, The Upside Down, and the mysterious Dimension X.

But beyond that, this image also speaks to Mike’s character and psyche. Otherwise, it wouldn't be placed inside his bedroom which represents his personality, privacy, and inner world.

The Meaning of Relativity

Relativity is obviously the state of being relative.

To be relative means that something gains its meaning or significance only when compared to, or understood in relation to, something else.

When you focus on a single point of gravity in Escher’s print, the scene appears normal. But when you assess the image as a whole, you notice that something is off. The three centres of gravity are made interesting when we notice them in relation to each other. That's why it's called Relativity.

Basically, we're being told that if we want to better understand Mike Wheeler, we need to look at him relatively.

We need to pay attention to the context and look at the bigger picture.

Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. Let's zoom back out.

In the bigger picture, the blocking has Mike stood between his bed and the closet. Framed above him is the "one way" sign, and the print of Relativity.

This is our point of interest: the spot our eyes are naturally drawn to.

All Signs Point to The Closet

As it turns out, the “one way” sign is highly relevant to this analysis.

That’s because the perceived significance of the "one way" sign is relative.

On its own, a “one way” sign in Mike’s bedroom is just a traffic sign and nothing more. In relation to the closet, however, it transforms into a visual cue for the state of being “in the closet.”

The symbolism of the “one way” sign depends entirely on its relationship to the closet, and Relativity (1953) underscores that fact with humour and cheeky precision.

It's a slapstick fish-to-the-face for anyone still denying the possibility of Mike being queer. It’s as if the set designers are saying, “Look at the sign in relation to the closet. And just to make sure you see it, here’s Escher’s Relativity sitting right between them to give you instruction.”

It's not even hidden in plain sight — it's being pointed to.

And here’s the kicker: the sign, the print, and the closet aren’t just thematically connected — they are spatially triangulated.

Their relativity is both metaphorical and literal!

It's also queer imagery: Special thanks to costume designer Amy Parris for confirming that the creatives behind Stranger Things are well aware of the triangle’s significance in LGBTQ+ history and symbolism. (More on that later).

The Penrose Triangle (Tragedy)

The triangle imagery becomes even more overt: at the centre of Relativity sits an inverted Penrose triangle, also known as the Penrose tribar or impossible triangle.

An impossible shape is a form that can be drawn, but cannot possibly exist in three-dimensional reality — unless it is an optical illusion. Psychologist Lionel Penrose and his mathematician son Roger Penrose popularised the Penrose triangle in the 1950s, describing it as “impossibility in its purest form”.

It's... actually quite tragic, when you think about it.

The impossible triangle suggests that Mike feels trapped in an unsolvable dilemma — caught between two realities (the two-dimensional and the three-dimensional) — with no way to reconcile them.

That’s because Mike is at the centre of a dysfunctional love triangle:

The two-dimensional reality that only exists within his mind: a romantic union with Will Byers. The three-dimensional reality that exists within real life: a romantic relationship with El Hopper.

But remember, the impossible triangle is an optical illusion — it doesn't actually exist.

Like Relativity, when you assess the bigger picture (rather than focusing on a single point) something about this love triangle is… off.

It’s not just impossible; it’s fake.

In Relativity, the three points of gravity hold equal importance. This mirrors the way Mike, Will, and El each contribute equally to sustaining this phony love triangle.

They’re all either hiding something or being dishonest.

Their dysfunction comes to a head in the Rink-O-Mania scenes, where it is most obvious. It's the crux of the blame-game that even fans can’t resist joining: Who’s the real asshole in this love triangle?

Dustin already gave the most succinct answer long ago: they’re all being little assholes.

But that’s the tragedy, isn’t it?

These aren’t bad people — they're timid teenagers. The impossible triangle isn’t a joke at their expense; it’s a reminder that all three are stuck in a structure that can’t hold.

And Mike isn't the perpetrator; he's just at the heart of it.

That’s why Relativity hangs in his room and not El’s or Will’s: the impossible puzzle is his to solve, because he’s the one with the most to lose. Since the problem with this love triangle is fakery, the only real solution is honesty. Relativity foreshadows that Mike will be the one to break the illusion — to reveal the truth.

The Pink Triangle (Triumph)

Of course, the fact that the triangle in Relativity is inverted is also significant. Maybe not in Escher’s original intention, but certainly for the creators of Stranger Things in relation to Mike Wheeler.

See what I did there?

As Amy Parris has noted, the inverted triangle is queer imagery, because it is linked to the pink triangle.

The pink triangle has a horrific origin:

During the Second World War, it was used in Nazi concentration camps to mark gay men and trans women. At the time, the inversion signified “sexual inversion��� — an outdated, offensive term once used to pathologise homosexuality.

Much like the word queer which was used as a slur before being reclaimed by the LGBTQ+ community, the pink triangle (or inverted triangle), was also reappropriated.

It’s now a symbol of pride, gay liberation, and equality.

This reclamation began in the 1970s, sparked by Holocaust survivor Heinz Heger’s memoir The Men with the Pink Triangle. In The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), Dr. Frank-N-Furter famously wears a pink triangle over his heart.

I used the word triumph in my subheading with intention, because triumph implies victory over persistent struggle and enduring resilience.

After the Holocaust, the queer community faced another devastating battle: the AIDS epidemic.

The conservative Reagan administration was infamously silent during the crisis’s peak years in the 1980s — and Stranger Things is set squarely within this political backdrop. In this era, the pink triangle’s significance re-emerged, taking on new prominence as a symbol of the ACT UP coalition and the fight against AIDS.

Their slogan?

SILENCE = DEATH

Does this slogan remind you of anything from the show? Because it should. Eddie Munson said something strikingly similar in season 4:

"It's forced conforming... that's what's killing the kids!"

Silence = passivity, compliance and conformity.

This wasn’t just an empowering line to capture the spirit of Stranger Things; it was a direct and intentional reference to the fight against AIDS.

And let’s be clear: Eddie Munson is heavily queer-coded. He appears to have used the hanky code, showed a clear attraction to Steve, and was persecuted by his community during a mass hysteria that mirrored the real-life Satanic Panic.

So Mike Wheeler — a teen growing up in a Reagan-voting household, a member of the Hellfire Club, and one of Eddie Munson’s chosen protégés — keeps a symbol of queer resistance and liberation hanging in his bedroom.

He also wears a custom-made shirt with a triangle over his heart.

Is that significant? Is it intentional?

Well, we have to go back to Escher’s Relativity, which reminds us that it’s all relative: The inverted triangle in the print hanging in Mike’s room, and the triangle over his heart, only gain their full meaning when viewed in context: the bigger picture.

And in Stranger Things, a story about freaks and outcasts beating the odds, that bigger picture is the AIDS crisis: it's right there, providing the backdrop — the context.

Pride is a Riot

Queer liberation is not supposed to be polite or palatable: it’s about breaking down barriers, opening doors, making people uncomfortable, and demanding visibility.

One of the most prominent visual motifs included in season 4 of Stranger Things is the Creel mansion door.

A door — something which opens and reveals the truth inside (like a curtain, a gate, or a closet). Notice that doors, curtains, gates and closets all play a recurring role in Stranger Things; this show has an obsession with metaphors about opening barriers and revealling truths.

Now, the set designers haven’t just suggested that Mike is in the closet, they’ve implied it’s a “one way” destination. He can’t leave. It’s the impossible shape. A locked door. But Robin already demonstrated how we can open a locked door and let the light (truth) in.

By smashing it with a brick — a possible reference to the Stonewall riots.

They didn’t need to include this moment. The door didn’t have to be locked, and Robin didn’t have to be the one throwing the brick. Heck, they could have thrown in a little fanservice and had Steve take off his jacket and punch through the glass with his fist.

Like the “one way” sign, the significance of the brick is relative — relative to its wielder:

Robin Buckley, a canon lesbian who is partially closeted and partially out.

Interestingly, when we look back at Mike Wheeler’s room — and specifically his closet — we can see that the set designers placed a mirror inside.

Mirrors show our reflection; they expose truths and confront us with our reality and identity. In this case, the mirror also catches rays of light streaming from Mike’s window, just like the beams that poured in when Robin’s brick smashed through the Creel mansion door. Light is truth, illumination and exposure.

The Matter of Perspective

We can wax poetic about Escher’s Relativity all day, but its core principle is simple; it’s about perspective.

Is Mike Wheeler queer-coded?

Well, it's relative. Whether you read Mike as straight or queer depends on your point of view, and your way of seeing the world: Are you sympathetic to the struggles and experiences of queer people? Are you queer yourself and know that experience intimately? Do you see queerness not as an “inversion” of the norm, but as an equally valid expression?

If the answer to any of these is yes, then you probably interpret Mike as queer due to your perspective.

I don’t at all begrudge those who simply aren’t familiar with queer-coding — but I do detest those who refuse to see it, or see it and choose to deny it.

Because silence is death.

Mike’s sexuality needs to be both recognized and canonized, because overt queer representation matters. It doesn't matter if it makes Them™️ uncomfortable — queer lives matter more than stupid respectability politics.

Stranger Things has already been catering to Them™️ by watering down the narrative: keeping Mike hidden behind the curtain, and in the closet.

I don’t mind because I love a riddle, but we’re heading into the final season now. The endgame.

The curtain has to open. The door needs to be smashed. But will they do it? That likely depends on the perspective of the Stranger Things creators themselves. So, what is their perspective? What is the ethos that drives the show's storytelling?

For the answer, we can turn to David Harbour's SAG Awards speech (edited for brevity):

“This award… is a call to arms from our fellow craftsmen and women to go deeper, and through our art to battle against fear, self-centeredness, and exclusivity… and through our craft to cultivate a more empathetic and understanding society by revealing intimate truths… We 1983 Midwesterners will repel bullies, we will shelter freaks and outcasts... we will get past the lies… And when we are at a loss amidst the hypocrisy and the casual violence of certain individuals and institutions we will… punch some people in the face when they seek to destroy the weak, and the disenfranchised, and the marginalized."

And remember the context: a story set in a conservative Midwestern town in the 1980s, in the shadow of the AIDS crisis and the Satanic Panic, where one of the main characters is a canon gay teen in love with his best friend.

I'd say their perspective is pretty fucking clear. 🔺

[thetheoryisalie]

Appreciation post for this one image from season 4 episode 9:

But also specifically for the gigantic and glowing 'OPEN' sign above Jonathan's head and the open door behind him that are never mentioned for some unfathomable reason

Edit: Will and Mike are also in front of a window with the blinds halfway opened

[thetheoryisalie]

This scene was 100% going to be Mike breaking up with El and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Like there's no way he was going to confess his love for El but then needs Will's continuous support like 5 minutes later when he actually confesses his love and she's in actual danger.

And let's not forget about the other advice that Will also gave Mike during the van scene:

"And if she was going to lose you, I...I think she's rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

And then Mike literally takes the first opportunity to do just that.

In that pizza place is probably the first time he's been alone with El since their reunion, and El starts initiating an intimate conversation between the two, and Mike wants to explain himself and brings up their last fight, only to not get to say what he wanted because Argyle interrupts him, and then next thing he knows El's dying and needs his support and Will (unintentionally) pressures him into confessing his love to her to save her life.

Like that's actually so sad :((

Also: how he takes off the glasses covering his eyes right when El initiates the intimacy, like he's finally ready to be open with her.

I think most of us know this is reoccurring imagery with Mike, most notably the airport kiss scene (can't recall right now if there are any others)

(sorry about the bad picture btw, getting them to be even remotely in focus was a pain, it's such a short scene and that red guy walks right in front of them for like half of it lol)

The glasses cover up his eyes and therefor part of his expression, it symbolizes how he's hiding a part of his emotions from others and the audience.

But this imagery doesn't make any sense if he's just struggling with telling El he loves her.

Firstly, the fact that Mike loves El isn't supposed to be a secret at this point. Mike himself tells it to Nancy, Jonathan, Max, Lucas and Will (and thus also the audience) in S3 E6:

"because I love her and I can't lose her again."

And we, and Mike, know that El knows this and overheard him here, because she tells Mike "I love you, too." at the end of S3, right after she says all this:

"Mike?" - "Yeah?" - [sighs] "Remember that day... at the cabin, you were talking to Max?" - "Um... I don't think I follow." - "You talked about your-- your feelings, your heart." - "Oh. Oh, yeah, that. Man, that was so long ago. Um..."

"That was really heat of the moment stuff, and we were arguing and... I don't really remember... What did I say, exactly?" - "Mike..."

"I love you, too."

There is zero doubt what she's referring to here. She knows Mike loves her, sure maybe by season 4 she's doubting his former love confession, but then the feelings that Mike would be hiding are that he doesn't love her anymore. His love for her isn't a secret, everyone already knows/assumes so anyway, and Mike knows this.

So the only thing he could be hiding is that he doesn't love her anymore/doesn't love her the way that everyone is assuming he does.

And then he takes his glasses of when El initiates an intimate conversation the first chance they get after they reunite to take Will's advice to 'rip off the Band-Aid'

Also Also: El is the one who initially opens up the intimacy of the conversation, and tells Mike she missed him:

"I...missed you"

Mike then takes over the conversation, but I want to talk about how El looks very serious here.

At this point, they're basically broken up. Mike couldn't tell her he loved her, and in response she writes "from El" in her last letter to him before going with Dr. Owens. You can see it better when you actually watch the clip (at the top), but the way she hesitates to even say she missed him, and then briefly smiles but goes back to looking serious when he says he missed her too, doesn't exactly scream that she was going to tell Mike she does want to continue the relationship, nor does it feel like she was going to reciprocate if Mike did tell her he loved her.

And clearly she also had something to say to Mike, otherwise she wouldn't have opened up the conversation like that.

Also Also Also:

The way the love confession would have happened if Argyle hadn't interrupted also doesn't make much sense:

"You know, the last few days, I... I've had to think about the last talk we had. You know, before the cops and... the whole world went to shit? I... I guess I just... I dunno. I guess I just wanted to say that--"

I guess I just... I dunno. I guess I just wanted to say that I love you?

Please, what kind of love confession is that? And why did he have to think about that? He should already know that he loves her, he's already said it once before.

Unless that's not actually what he was going to say...

Bonus:

Both of them wearing something that reminds them of their most important person(s) on their wrist, El's bracelet Hopper gave her that used to be his daughter's, Mike's matching watch with the party:

They all wear these in every episode, only exception I caught was Lucas during the basketball game. Mike and Max are also the only ones wearing them on their right hand.

Lucas not wearing the watch when playing basketball -> This is when he's trying to be different the most, 'trying to distance himself from the party'/ become something different from who the party is (nerds)

Lucas and Max's watch both being round -> matching shapes to create harmony between the characters/Lumax

Max and Mike wearing the watch on their right hand, not the left like the rest -> both having something that they're working through that they're hiding/not being open about with the rest of the party/not 'matching' the rest of the party

Max also doesn't wear hers when in the hospital (obviously) -> completely removed from the party and unable to talk to them

Just some initial thoughts I had/things I noticed, feel free to analyze this deeper (please @ me if you do, I'd love to hear it!)

Bonus Bonus:

"But I have one more important question: do I look cool?" - [laughs] - "I feel like I look really cool. Are you giggling?" - [giggling] - "You're giggling because I look awesome. I can't see it but I know you're smiling because I look so good. Right?"

cute ElMike interaction when they're broken up, and it would almost be expected to be awkward

vs.

The only 'romantic' Mileven interaction we see after Mike's monologue. El is the one who initiates the side hug. Mike only pats her shoulder after she rests her head on his shoulder.

Plus:

Will actively giving them space to talk. We know there's more than enough space for 3 people on the back seat Mike and El are sitting on because we've seen them all sitting there, which means he's choosing not to to give them some privacy.

Yet they're barely talking?

"Did she... talk to you at all?" - "Not much... I mean, a little bit."

Also, Will would have definitely heard anything they would have said to each other (Jonathan hears Will talking about the painting to Mike just fine, and he was further away), so the only reason he's asking this here is to inform the audience that Mike and El aren't talking to each other. If they were talking to each other like normal, there would have been no need to tell this to us, since anyone would have assumed so anyway.

Bonus Bonus Bonus:

The pink and yellow upside-down pizza triangle that's right next to Mike in like every shot he's in in the Pizza Place scene:

yeah anyway...

Edit:

Also, something that just occurred to me: Literally why would they have this scene in the first place, just to have an actual love confession scene later in the same episode? (Both of these happen in S4 E9) There's no need to stall things. You could have just not had this scene in the first place, and replaced it with them helping Argyle make pizza or something to get Jonathan and Will in a private setting.

Like, if we go with the narrative that Mike was insecure about confessing his love to her, this doesn't tell us anything we don't already know. We know he feels insecure, and is afraid of El not needing him anymore from his conversations with Will in the van. We also already know assume he's in love with her.

This scene doesn't do anything instead of making us question what Mike was actually going to say. And there's no need for that if the answer was always just going to be that he's in love with El. You don't waste time on a scene that's is only there to stall a love confession, if the love confession is in the same episode anyway. Like, what are you stalling? The only thing this would do is make it so that the creators of the show have to cut other scenes. As if they have the time for any of that in a show like Stranger Things.

Actually, I lied. It also establishes that Mike and El do value each other ("I... missed you." - [exhales] "Yeah. Yeah, I missed you, too.") but this is completely redundant if they're just in love anyway. Like gee I sure hope the main romantic pairing of this show at the very least misses each other when they're apart. That kind of goes without saying if you're in a romantic relationship. There's no need to clarify that you miss each other. Unless that romantic relationship isn't doing so well...

[thetheoryisalie]

Never forgetting that this line exists:

"You're blind...blind because you like that a girl's not grossed out by you." (S1 E5) But then this is Mike with El in episode 7:

This is 1) right after she goes looking for Will and Barb and finds Barb's dead body, 2) she is clearly seeking comfort specifically from Mike going by how she's leaning on him, and 3) Both Dustin and Lucas comfort her, Dustin literally reaches across Mike to pat her knee and Lucas covers her with that blanket twice (he's the one who puts it there in the first place) and pats her shoulder. + Mike like a few minutes (in universe) later (episode 8):

Like...pretty sure he actually just likes that he's not grossed out by a girl instead of a girl by him...a girl who looks like a boy and is very similar in appearance to Will...and even then he can't comfort her when she needs him too. + Bonus from episode 4:

El defining herself by terms Mike called her in an attempt to live the childhood of a normal girl that she never got to have, with Mike hovering behind her and including himself in that image of "normalcy". Also will never get over the fact that this looks so much like a picture in a frame, and neither of them look happy with this arrangement.

(Also also, the stereotypical colours and clothing: El, the girl, in a pink dress with styled hair and make up on, Mike in a blue t-shirt and grey pants)

The picture of unhappy conformity.

[thetheoryisalie]

It's El

my timeline just betrayed me

got not only an anti Byler post, but an anti Byler post saying we’re in a cult which brings me to my next question, who is the leader? will or mike? im leaning more toward Will being the cult leader

or maybe a secret third option?

[thetheoryisalie]

Will Byers

Will byers

[thetheoryisalie]

I’ve never really disliked Mike throughout the seasons of Stranger Things, though I’ll admit, I did find him kind of a jerk in Season 3 at first. And sso because I appreciated his character so much, I had always wondered the reasons behind Mike's behaviour, and I know it's been discussed many times before, but I had compiled my analysis, way before I got into Byler, or Tumblr, so:

Stranger Things Season 3 Mike Wheeler is often criticized for being cold, dismissive, and self-absorbed, particularly in contrast to his sensitive, loyal portrayal in earlier seasons. However, this shift in demeanor doesn’t signify that Mike has become a jerk. Instead, it reflects a young boy caught in the confusing tides of adolescence, emotional repression, and internal conflict, especially regarding his close friendship with Will Byers.

In the first two seasons, Mike stands out as the group’s natural leader. He is the one who first welcomes Eleven into the fold and fiercely protects her. His bond with Will is equally deep; in Season 2, Mike is Will's staunchest supporter while few grow uneasy, rather sensitive about Will’s connection to the Upside Down, he checks in on Will, listens to him, and even acts as an emotional anchor during Will’s possession. Mike isn’t just brave, he’s emotionally available, loyal, and selfless.

This version of Mike doesn’t disappear in Season 3; rather, he becomes harder to see because of the emotional and psychological walls he begins to erect.

At a glance, Season 3 Mike is dismissive of Will’s desire to play D&D, consumed with his relationship with Eleven, and snarky toward Hopper. But beneath these actions lies a teenager struggling to balance competing pressures: romantic love, friendship, and self-image.

Mike's new relationship with Eleven becomes an emotional focal point, possibly because it's something he understands, or thinks he does. In contrast, his relationship with Will begins to touch on feelings he can't process. In one of the most emotionally revealing scenes, Mike tells Will, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls,” a line that many read as cruel or thoughtless, which it is to an extent, but you can't leave it at that. It has to be dug deeper. Because this moment is more about Mike than Will. It reveals Mike's internal panic at a relationship that’s become too emotionally intimate for his own comfort. He lashes out not because he doesn’t care, but because he cares too much and doesn’t know how to express it.

Mike's Internalized Homophobia and Emotional Repression:

Mike’s outburst at Will may be rooted in internalized homophobia. He’s grown up in a culture where intense emotional bonds between boys are often stigmatized or mocked. Will, who is coded queer throughout the show, still yearns for the closeness of their childhood friendship, while Mike, perhaps unconsciously recognizing how deep their bond is, begins to pull away in discomfort, discomfort about the fact that he's feeling things he isn't supposed to feel. His defensiveness, sarcasm, and occasional coldness are classic signs of a young person repressing feelings they can’t yet articulate.

Rather than dealing with the discomfort of complex emotions, Mike finds refuge in his relationship with Eleven, where expectations are clearer, atleast that's what he believed at first. Except he ends up feeling like an outcast.

He's trying his best to fit in, be ....normal.

Season 3 also demonstrates that Mike is less effective as a leader when he distances himself from Will. The party is almost fractured (lack of a leader), the focus shifts from camaraderie to romantic entanglements, and the group's cohesion suffers. In previous seasons, Mike’s sense of purpose and moral clarity were often galvanized by his desire to protect Will. It is Will who gave Mike’s heroism a direction beyond romance or ego, someone to fight for, someone to believe in. Without that dynamic in Season 3, Mike seems adrift, but not irredeemable.

By the finale, when the stakes become truly dire again, we begin to see flashes of the old Mike return, thinking tactically, caring deeply, and putting others before himself.

The hero was never gone; he was just buried under layers of adolescent confusion and emotional repression (and he still somewhat is...)

Mike Wheeler in Season 3 is not a jerk, he’s a teenager caught between childhood and adulthood, friendship and romance, his actual identity and heteronormativity, clarity and confusion. His seemingly hurtful actions stem not from malice but from emotional immaturity and internal struggles, possibly including internalized homophobia. Rather than condemning Mike, it’s more constructive to see his arc as a realistic portrayal of a young boy learning how to handle vulnerability, loyalty, and change. The hero of Seasons 1 and 2 still exists within him, he just needs the right spark, perhaps from Will, to rise again.

[thetheoryisalie]

So, no idea what El and Mike are talking about in that scene of them sitting together, but here's how I want it to go:

the entire season then follows mike's gay panik situation

[thetheoryisalie]

I also find it very interesting that in this instance, Dustin doesn't respond with "Well Suzie also saved the world once" (or something along those lines), despite the fact that Suzie did save the world at the end of S3, which Dustin also directly tells her.

It directly compares how Mike and Dustin view their respective girlfriends. Dustin doesn't need to say "Well Suzie also saved the world", he's proud to talk about her just because she's Suzie, his girlfriend, who's increadibly smart. The fact that she also helped save the world is secondary, meanwhile it's basically the only thing Mike ever talks about when he talks about El, instead of, like, her personality, or the fact that she's also really smart.

genuinely that scene where Mike tells Dustin that El saved the world twice makes no sense. why is it there? does it matter? in what world was it a necessary scene? seriously, the cheer squad is doing their thing and we randomly cut to the middle of their conversation only to cut back to the cheer squad again? its completely unnecessary. unless... it was to show that Mike still only views El through the lens of her abilities.

[thetheoryisalie]

BYLER ESSAY 💙💛

I (a very very insane byler truther who has too much time on his hands) am proud to present the first chapter of my byler essay, a thesis-length, thesis-style document professionally analysing themes, narratives, cinematography, character arcs etc. of the show and each individual episode to put forward an argument for byler:

If you are expecting this writing to be similar to my tumblr posts, you'd only be half-correct - i argue the same things as I've always believed, plus some new stuff, but this time I word it in an academic way. I usually make my posts easy to read with images and colours n shit, but this is purposefully professional and very formal writing.

At the time of posting this, I have only written the introduction in which I talk about every overarching theme from the show that contributes to Byler. Every 1am session of writing this was just me singlehandedly curing my byler doubt, tbh. Let me know if you want to be tagged when I update this further! Every time I write a new part of this, I will make a post on tumblr like it's a fic or something <3

You don't just get to view this document, however! You also get to comment :) All comments will be moderated, and any blatant, unhelpful hate will be deleted, but I still encourage helpful input of any kind.

PlsPls be kind,,,, I spent a lot of time writing this and proofreading it and then proofreading it again. I'm like SO nervous to put this out help-

(please reblog ! i'd love for this to get to as many bylers as possible)

people who seemed interested or wanted to be tagged hi!!:

@august2961 @feignedsleep @milla-jordan @bumblebeesinthetrees @shadowyyyidk @thetheoryisalie @remstrrs @the-bogginses-are-gay @starrycloak @radisyn @minaricore @iambylernow @queeleronwheels @lune-moon-nuit @zar-bylerz