Eric is a time capsule of just about every newsworthy topic of the mid-1980s. And the show’s setting in New York, specifically in 1985, is important. I should know—I watch ’80s years like a hawk. The blatant use of 1985 stung because it meant I couldn’t use Eric for my upcoming comparison of 1984 to this year (like last year’s comparison to 1983 here).

But I was galvanized to write this article because Eric is just too significant and provides important reflections for us now. We’ll focus on how parenting, the aforementioned list of newsworthy societal issues, and the date and setting are combined to produce an engaging narrative which speaks to our culture today.

Minor spoilers ensue.

(Thought) Provoking Your Children

The trailer for Eric roughs out the plot: A father builds a puppet named Eric hoping to bring his missing son, Edgar, home. There’s no helping the audience’s probable confusion from having two main characters’ names start with an “E,” but a little context can aid the seemingly bizarre premise.

Vincent (played by Benedict Cumberbatch) co-created a public network show called Good Day Sunshine, which his son, Edgar (Ivan Morris Howe) loves. The show’s tagline: “Be kind. Be brave. Be good. Be different,” is a testimony to Vincent’s desire to shine a light in the darkness. However, good intentions don’t always provide healthy solutions. Vincent attempts to provide happiness to children because of his unhappy childhood’s unresolved generational trauma. He offers permission and acceptance to kids who feel different in order to cover up his own idiosyncrasies. So, despite an attempt to encourage others, due to his unresolved psychological symptoms, Vincent is often cruel and selfish.

Within five minutes of the first episode (each is simply titled “episode” with a consecutive number as a meta take on a show within a show) we learn Eric’s core premise: Edgar is designing the puppet Eric to cope with his father, it is 1985 city election season, and all of Vincent’s relationships are strained. As Eric winds through its six episodes, we’re given snippets of the past: fights between Vincent and his wife (Gaby Hoffman), Edgar being lonely as an only child, and moments where Vincent was mean to Edgar with the intent to toughen and encourage him.

There is a biblical adage that has come back to bite me many a time since becoming a parent. “Fathers, do not aggravate your children, or they will become discouraged” (Col. 3:21). Since my son first heard this verse (around three or four years old) he has consistently recited it when he feels I’m disobeying its intent. The problem is that he’s usually right.

As Edgar’s disappearance drags from hours into days, Vincent is reminded of his parental missteps. Most of the time it is Vincent’s wife or friends, like producing partner Lennie (Dan Fogler) or apartment handyman George (Clarke Peters), who point out Vincent’s habit of “aggravating his child.” And for as many statements as Eric makes, one of the central storylines is that sometimes a father must hit rock bottom to look himself in the mirror and change.

Monsters and Societal Issues

Plumbing the depths of parent/child relationships is impossible, but reviewing an actual New York Times article from 1985 reveals an interesting lesson: relationships are a web of seemingly unrelated issues. Margot Slade’s “Relationships; A Father’s Warmth for a Son,” cites a Cornell study where most dads were “hellbent on proving they are men” so their behavior toward sons reinforced a “toughness.” This led Slade to summarize: “Most of the experts interviewed mentioned fathers’ fears of homosexuality, in themselves or their sons, as a factor.”

Homosexuality is addressed in Eric through the AIDS epidemic, the club scene, and lead detective Ledroit’s closeted sexuality. As the Head of Missing Persons, McKinley Belcher III is the embodiment of seething professionalism. Belcher’s riveting portrayal of Ledroit becomes the face of Eric’s honest history lesson of ’80s homophobia, seen through a 2020’s lens of complexity and dignity. 

When listing out the limited series’ newsworthy topics—like kidnapping, racism, homophobia, homelessness, and public sanitation—one might assume the storytelling is disjointed or bloated. It’s not. But 2024 culture is certainly comparable.

Consider jaded views of political candidates and corruption, a humanitarian heart for the unhoused, acceptance for the bullied, and empathy for mental illness. The writer’s empathy for societal issues, while also depicting filth and greed, is layered by characters attempting to do the same: bringing truth and light into darkness. A beautiful example lies at the center of the narrative. The colorful kids’ puppet show is counterbalanced by a gruff but caring seven-foot-tall monster. Quite rightly, that literally walking contradiction is the hub that keeps Eric’s wildly spinning storytelling spokes from flying apart.

Vincent convinces himself the only way to get Edgar back is to build Eric. Because Vincent believes that if Edgar is still alive then he’ll watch Good Day Sunshine, and if Edgar sees Eric on TV, then he’ll find a way to come home. Vincent pitches the idea to his co-creator Lennie, explaining, “He’s the monster that every child wants when they are lost and need to be found.”

The idea sounds crazy (and maybe it is), but in desperation, Vincent latches on to the one thing he can control: building a monster. Reminiscent of Sully from Monsters, Inc., Eric is a believable creation from a kid growing up in a bad part of town. Not cute and cuddly, but harsh and different and lonely.

Vincent’s fixation is the same one popularized by the story of Doctor Frankenstein. When a physical monstrosity is created, society is exposed for being the real monster. Because society fears “the other,” they view issues and controversies as faceless groups instead of realizing there are human souls tied to those causes. As Christians, this should be easy for us to interpret as souls to be approached with empathy, patience, and love, regardless of how different they are from us. Unfortunately, we often don’t have a tender heart of compassion for the other—those different from us in belief or color or creed. This is especially obvious with the politicians in Eric. 

As he works frantically, Vincent is irritated to find that he must attend a party. Clearly spiraling, he hardly hides his disdain when approached by some officials from City Hall. Attempting to pay a compliment, one of the powerful tycoons references the tagline of Good Day Sunshine, asking, “What is it they say? ‘Be good. Be kind. Be brave. Be brilliant.’” Before departing in disgust, Vincent corrects him, “‘Different.’ It’s ‘Be different.’”

What may seem like an inconsequential tête-à-tête speaks volumes. Our memories reflect our values. Have we idolized and substituted “brilliance” over God’s sacred calling for us to be “different” (John 17:14-15; Romans 12:2) and love those “different” from us (Matthew 22:34-40; Luke 6:24-38; 2 Corinthians 5:14)? Christians should be different from others because they reflect God’s unique love while living out Jesus’s countercultural commands, such as His sexual ethics, reversal of power definitions, and prioritizing the poor. 

1985 & New York City as Characters

The cast and crew of Good Day Sunshine are doing their best to bring light to the darkness, but it’s tough. And it’s here, in Eric’s incredibly accurate account of 1985 New York, that Edgar, a child, bridges the gap. He enjoys the positivity of his dad’s show, but any time he leaves their apartment he faces a dirty, dangerous, and debauched city.

Again, this is why Edgar invented Eric, someone who could try to be good and still handle a toxic home life and the mean streets. Someone who could be different. But for the audience to buy it, they needed to believe that New York is rough, and that when Edgar disappears, he’s truly in danger. Not just from one threat but on multiple fronts.

And Eric shines at making 1985 and New York into characters in the show. There are at least three areas where the show’s year and location are pivotal.

In an article titled, “When Does Netflix’s Eric Take Place,” Bill Dubiel says, “The 1985 setting is important to Edgar’s disappearance; the lack of technology compared to modern times makes his vanishing a realistic, plausible problem. In the age of Ring cameras on every doorbell and Find My Phone apps, a child disappearing in New York City would at least have some semblance of a trail to pursue.”

That lack of constant surveillance is a major reason the investigation takes as long as it does. However, there are a few traffic cameras where Detective Ledroit can review VHS copies of footage. This helps the modern audience relate to the precursor of the digital age, while being frustrated by the limitations of poor quality and quantity of technology.

Additionally, as previously mentioned, the sanitation strike, widespread homelessness, political corruption, racism, and homophobia, are a dark and sometimes forgotten blot on the city’s history. These societal issues aren’t just paid homage or ticked off a list, but are deeply integrated and given presence in the show. Although only using picture and sound, the audience smells the trash lined streets, recoils from the weathered face of a crackhead, and feels the tension when dirty cops covertly threaten Ledroit because of his sexuality.

Lastly, the type and function of children’s programming characterizes the show. Dubiel says, “Furthermore, the prevalence of puppets in the story makes a lot more sense given the 1985 setting. Vincent’s hit TV show Good Day Sunshine is a very overt stand-in for similar popular kids shows of the 1980s like Sesame Street, Fraggle Rock and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” More than a tribute, Good Day Sunshine is disarming.

And Eric’s writers subvert that charming nature by interjecting the Eric puppet’s darker perspective on reality. This takes the expectation of light—both in goodness and simplistic messages—and contrasts it with darkness and weight.

Speaking on the secondary trauma of sin in the world, bishop and theologian Kallistos Ware reminds us, “The doctrine of original sin means…that we are born into an environment where it is easy to do evil and hard to do good…”¹ Because this is “ancestral sin” passed to all of us through Adam and Eve, the truth of Bishop Ware’s words are not specific to 1985 New York. “Easy to do evil, hard to do good” applies to all people, in all locations, through all of time.

This doesn’t initially give us a lot of hope, but it does help us understand the root of our problems. If we know the root, we can talk about how to realistically overcome the darkness. Christians believe Jesus is the light, that acceptance of Him is the only way to be healed of our personal and societal issues. This certainly gives us hope, but we’re also given responsibility. Our transformed life resulting from our conversion is significant, the matter of practicing the way of Jesus. It’s a mentality that seems so basic, that it’s often overlooked. Constantly reminding ourselves to do righteous things that don’t come naturally: “Be kind. Be brave. Be good. Be different.”

In Light of Current Developments

Individual and societal lessons emerge from Eric’s topics of parenting, newsworthy issues, and use of date and setting as a character. One lesson we can learn as individuals is to seek ways to keep from passing along our mistakes or generational trauma. We may have grown up with a toxic homelife, or a father’s fears of his own and/or his son’s homosexuality, or any other number of pressures, but that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to repeat it.

Like Vincent, we may find our attempts at being good and building confidence in others ultimately results in us unfairly pressuring them and acting cruelly. Maybe we’ve had to hit rock bottom in order to see ourselves in the mirror truthfully.

And regarding social issues, we may be horrified to find we’ve created or perpetuated a monster, while being one ourselves. Regardless of the motive, Vincent’s blinded ambition and impatience of busily making a monster can be a reflection of the modern Christian. Our current culture doesn’t respond well to the deafness many “Christians” show to their causes, and they rage as we belittle them and bring out the worst in them. No wonder the lost, individual souls don’t believe that version of Jesus can heal them from their pain.

But hope is not lost. Without spoiling Eric’s finale, Vincent realizes he cannot change things himself—he must ask for outside help. We too must find that the only sustainable way our baggage and ancestral sin can be transformed into light is by God’s power. It is our responsibility to be good, kind, brave and different, and to bring light to the darkness, but we shouldn’t become monsters doing so.