At first glance, it is easy to assume that Stranger Things emerged entirely from 1980s nostalgia, tabletop fantasy, and small-town adventure stories. Those influences are certainly there, but another creative thread runs quietly through the series. Long before Hawkins had its Demogorgons or telekinetic teenagers, the Duffer Brothers were learning from a filmmaker who shaped an entire generation’s understanding of suspense: M. Night Shyamalan.
The idea that the director of The Sixth Sense and Signs influenced Netflix’s most popular supernatural drama may seem surprising, yet the connection is genuine. And like many creative partnerships, it began in a moment of professional uncertainty.
Before the Duffers became recognisable names, they had written and directed Hidden, a contained horror film about a family sheltering from unseen threats. The film displayed many of the qualities that would later define their work: muted tension, emotional stakes, and a sense of dread that grows slowly rather than loudly. But after a shift in studio leadership, Hidden was shelved, leaving the brothers unsure about their future.
Producer Donald De Line happened to read their screenplay and recognised their potential. Instead of letting the film’s fate define their careers, he recommended them for the writers’ room of Wayward Pines, a psychological thriller executive-produced by Shyamalan. If Hidden had been their test, Wayward Pines became their training ground.
Working under Shyamalan, the Duffers experienced a different kind of education. He emphasised pacing, deliberate reveals, and the importance of building tension through restraint rather than spectacle. They learned how to unfold a mystery gradually, how to use silence effectively, and how to shape moments so that the emotional beats mattered as much as the frightening ones. As Ross Duffer later explained, the experience prepared them in ways they only appreciated in retrospect.
When Stranger Things premiered in 2016, most commentary focused on its references to E.T., The Goonies, and Stand by Me. Yet beneath the 80s references, Shyamalan’s influence could be felt in the show’s rhythm: the patient buildup to each reveal, the framing of ordinary spaces as unsettling, and the narrative pattern where a mystery deepens before it sharpens into clarity. The Duffers had absorbed his approach to tension. The flickering lights in Joyce Byers’ house, the lingering pauses before a reveal, and the understated misdirections all echo the lessons they learned on Wayward Pines.
Shyamalan’s impact was not limited to suspense. His films focus on the emotional lives of their characters, and he often grounds the extraordinary in everyday human concerns. The Duffers adopted this philosophy as well. In Stranger Things, fear is tied to connection, loss, friendship, and family. The supernatural threats gain meaning only through the people who confront them. Joyce’s belief that her son is alive, Hopper’s struggle to protect a child who becomes his own, and the friendships that shape the core cast all reflect an emotional priority that mirrors Shyamalan’s work.
Even the show’s visual language carries traces of his influence. The restrained colour palettes, the careful composition, and the use of quiet moments to heighten tension create a style that aligns with the psychological tone Shyamalan often pursues. The Duffers adapted these techniques into their own sensibilities, blending them with nostalgia and science fiction until they formed something distinct.
The creative relationship between Shyamalan and the Duffers evolved naturally. It was not a formal mentorship but a fortuitous meeting of minds at a pivotal point in the younger filmmakers’ careers. For Shyamalan, it was an opportunity to support emerging talent within a genre he helped redefine. For the Duffers, it was a chance to learn how to craft suspense on a larger scale.
Without this experience, Stranger Things might have developed very differently. The Duffers emerged from Wayward Pines with a stronger sense of structure and pacing, skills essential for telling a story that spans multiple seasons. Their ability to balance tension with emotional storytelling owes a great deal to the lessons they learned during that period.
As Stranger Things approaches its final chapter, the influence of that early guidance is still visible. The trailers and promotional material hint at a finale shaped by carefully timed reveals, emotional confrontations, and a sense of heightened uncertainty. These qualities echo the approach Shyamalan used throughout his filmography: mysteries that unfold slowly, twists that reframe the story, and emotional resolutions that linger.
The connection between Shyamalan and the Duffers has become part of the show’s creative lineage. You can trace lines from The Sixth Sense to the eerie atmosphere of the Upside Down, from Signs to Hopper and Eleven’s strained but caring relationship, and from The Village to the guarded secrets of Hawkins Lab. It is not imitation; it is a shared perspective that evolved into something new.
Ultimately, the power of this influence lies in a simple idea: suspense matters most when it grows from emotion. The Duffers learned that lesson early, and it became a foundation of their storytelling. When the lights flicker in Hawkins one final time, it will be the culmination of a decade of craft shaped in part by a filmmaker whose work defined their understanding of tension.
The story of Stranger Things is rooted in many inspirations, but one of its most important beginnings sits quietly in the background: two young filmmakers learning how to build mystery and emotion under the guidance of M. Night Shyamalan.
