The Duffer Brothers' latest is The Boroughs, with all eight episodes now queued on Netflix. The Boroughs is an elderly version of the adolescent-driven Stranger Things: a "seasoned" means to tap the likes of the Cocoon set, Jules, Robot & Frank, Bubba Ho-Tep and Twilight Zone's "Kick the Can," but does it scratch the intended, geriatric itch?
I'll say this: The premise is sound, and it's benefited by Alfred Molina's Sam Cooper, a relatable widower and former aeronautic engineer whose family has stuck him in the titular, New Mexico, assisted-living community. Though Sam can't drive, he's still sharp in mind, enough to maintain some basic independence and to know when something's not quite on the level: i.e. an alien presence dwelling within the Boroughs' structure--a presence with a penchant for draining its occupants.
Sam isn't the only one who senses the danger. He's joined by Denis O'Hare's Wally Baker, an open-minded, ex-medical researcher combatting cancer, who sets up a surreptitious, "Who Goes There?" laboratory, so they can scrutinize the evidence.
In addition to the determined Wally, Sam's accompanying ensemble (some of whom go on to comprise the inquisitive "Gray Rebellion") includes Jane Kaczmarke's Lily, Sam's wife (filtered through glitchy flashbacks); Jena Malone's Claire, Sam's shortsighted but well-meaning daughter; Bill Pullman's Jack, a one-time noted, television weatherman; Clarke Peter's Art Daniels, a principled bohemian; Alfre Woodard's Judy, Art's nice but unfaithful wife; Ed Begley Jr's Ed, a man cramped by severe dementia; Geena Davis' Renee Joyce, who looks too young to be a Boroughs resident; Carlos Miranda's Chad, her younger, off-the-cuff love interest; Eric Edelstein's Hank Williams (yeah, really), Chad's boss and nonchalant, security head; Blaine Shaw, the estate's "cordial" overseer; and Alice Kremelberg's Anneliese, Blaine's peculiar spouse. (For fun, Dee Wallace makes a quality cameo in the first episode.)
The interaction among these folks more than serves its purpose, but sometimes it comes across as strained, with soap-opera elements either slowing the pacing or rushing it. For one, the relationship between Renee and Chad hits its summit in a snap, when it would have benefited from some slow-burn, sexual tension and not the childish derision that ensues. The same can be said of Judy and Sam's affair, which we only learn about after the fact, in a situation made more perplexing by Art's caviler acceptance of it.
Of course, the big draw is the series' pale, spidery (Lovecraftian) monsters, which are harvested by Nancy Daly's ancient, haggish Mother, whose blood is said to bestow eternal life. The parasitic, tunnel-traveling offspring are at first dismissed as walled-up owls until distinct, corpse markings (the result of spinal-fluid tapping) confirms an otherworldly emanation. Their origin and motives (though never defined to an absolute tee) grant a great boost to the tale, but if bizarre entities occupy the Boroughs, why doesn't any of its knowledgeable members go to the authorities right off the bat? It's one thing to gather evidence and devise theories, quite another to let monsters run amok.
The Boroughs could have been (should have been) an official spinoff of Stranger Things, working as a possible crossover, and that could still occur, though it seems doubtful. Nevertheless, the shows' formats are tied more than not. Each even relies on popular music to set their moods: the latter making better use of such, while the former pushes a controversial figure for its cues (a poor decision that's already put some viewers off, or so I've learned; at least The Boys, even if polarizing in its irreverent right, had the good sense to use Billy Joel).
As it stands, The Boroughs is an interesting filler-thriller that honors older people and their monumental concerns about death and grief. It's never dull (oh, far from it), but it lacks the frightful focus and emotional edge to simulate Stranger Things' layered levels. It didn't have to be George A. Romero's The Amusement Park or James Ashcroft's The Rule of Jenny Pen to succeed, but by golly, a nudge in either direction would have gone a long way in empowering its peril.
