Television: “Goosebumps” — Disney’s Subpar Attempt at “Stranger Things”

By Sarah Osman

If you grew up in the ’90s, then you know that one of the hottest tables at the Scholastic Book Fair was the Goosebumps one. These twisted tales by R.L. Stine were the perfect concoction of thrills and horror, designed not to terrify but instead keep you awake, the book in one hand and a flashlight in the other, as you read about haunted cameras, creepy worms, and the most disturbing of all ventriloquist dolls, Slappy. At the same time, Stine brilliantly wove in comedic elements to keep the series from veering into Stephen King territory. Yet Stine served as an introduction to King for kids, and, years later, Goosebumps still remains popular. But it’s us kids of the ’90s who best remember these light macabre tales.

Disney, in an attempt to either capitalize on Gen Z’s love of Stranger Things or Millennials’ nostalgia for Goosebumps, has rebooted the series for Disney +. The 10-episode series lacks the fun of both Stranger Things and the original Goosebumps by setting the show in the present day. Disney’s attempt at an “edgy” series for tweens/teens doesn’t quite work because it’s missing the camp factor that made Stine’s work so fun.

Not to say that there isn’t any camp. Justin Long, who stars as the new English teacher who may not be who he says he is, relishes the chance to chew the scenery. Arguably one of Hollywood’s most unappreciated actors, Long shines when starring in over-the-top roles. Long knows how absurd this series is and puts his all into this role, from childishly sipping on chocolate milk to slipping and sliding down a hallway. The best moments involve Long, who I suspect may be a Goosebumps fan himself: he’s ecstatic to be a part of this series and brings the comedy the books are renowned for.

The same can’t be said for the other actors, who, in all fairness, do try their best with a middling script. The series follows five high schoolers who know each other, but don’t start to collide with each other until a Halloween party is held at the aforementioned new English teacher’s house. When several monstrosities are released, things go awry. The more interesting moments focus on how a cursed object would affect a high school student: one girl feels invisible and is pushed by a mask to be “more confident;” another boy desperately wants to be liked by everyone, which results in multiple versions of himself being spawned. If the series simply focused on the kids dealing with these cryptic objects, it would work. It also doesn’t help that the writers seemed to have Googled “what Gen Z likes” and shoehorned in what they think Gen Z likes. This is especially true for James, who is gay, and who we are reminded is gay. He dresses up as a sexy kitty because he’s gay! He doesn’t know about sports because he is gay! Gen Zers like the gays, so here’s a gay! Why couldn’t James just happen to be gay? Why is that his defining characteristic?

And then there are the parents. Let’s face it: the most boring part of any high school series is the adults. And the adults in Goosebumps are particularly tedious. Apparently, it’s the parents of the kids these objects are meant to torment, setting off a complex mythology that’s not needed. We don’t need the parents and all their boring adult problems.

The new Goosebumps would have been more powerful as an anthology series set at the same high school where characters from previous episodes interact with each other. Or as a season-long episode arc focused solely on the kids. But, oh no, the adults have to get involved.

It’s not surprising then, that the best episode stands on its own. Revealing the backstory of Slappy, that sinister dummy, the sixth episode doesn’t take place in the present day. It starts in the 1920s and ends in 1993, answering questions set up throughout the series such as who the evil objects belonged to and what exactly the parents did. Featuring impressive set design, stronger writing, and a more cohesive storyline, episode six proves why an anthology was the way to go.

Sarah Mina Osman is a writer residing in Wilmington, NC. In addition to writing for the Arts Fuse, she has written for Watercooler HQ, Huffington Post, HelloGiggles, Young Hollywood, and Matador Network, among other sites. Her work was included in the anthology Fury: Women’s Lived Experiences in the Trump Era. She is currently a first year fiction MFA candidate at the University of North Carolina Wilmington. When she’s not writing, she’s dancing, watching movies, traveling, or eating. She has a deep appreciation for sloths and tacos. You can keep up with her on Twitter and Instagram: @SarahMinaOsman