It's easy to get lost in a game of Spot the Reference while watching “Stranger Things.” This creepy Netflix drama about odd events in a small Indiana town in the '80s calls upon the ghosts of “Stand by Me” and “The X-Files,” and large parts of it serve as an extended homage to the midcareer work of Steven Spielberg, especially “E.T.”

“Stranger Things” also mourns lost innocence and probes the tender fault lines of fractured, beleaguered families. At the same time, it efficiently unites various aspects of horror and suspense serials you've seen before, and some of its scares are joltingly effective, which makes up for the fact that originality is not exactly its strong suit. Even so, this promising drama often has ambiguous and sad things on its mind, and the familiar contours of its plot are most effective when they serve as a cover for somewhat deeper explorations.

“Stranger Things” creators Matt and Ross Duffer, in their first TV project, use sturdy genre conventions to explore an array of entirely relatable anxieties, like the fears of parents and children who are growing apart, and the scary gulfs that lurk between friends and longtime acquaintances who realize they may not really know each other at all. But there's magic too: “Stranger Things” depicts an unexpected bond that springs up between kids and an unusual visitor whose presence hints at intimidating but possibly wondrous mysteries.

Yet this occasionally engrossing drama is not just another example of dutiful, uninspired imitation run amok. It's a mainstream piece of entertainment that wonders if something has gone awry in middle America, a question that is as relevant to 2016 as it is to 1983, the year in which the drama takes place.

Winona Ryder, whose tightly coiled intensity effectively anchors the series, is one of its most retro aspects. Her presence, here playing the overworked mother of two boys, evokes the prickly, sarcastic characters that she embodied with such wounded intelligence and flinty dignity back in the day. Ryder has a number of solo scenes in which odd and possibly supernatural things happen to her or her home's appliances, and in the wrong hands the scenes might have seemed faintly ridiculous or cliched. But her passionately committed performance and quicksilver versatility make those moments not just scary but, at times, even moving.

David Harbour is quietly excellent as the town's depressed top cop, Chief Jim Hopper, who is nursing an unbearable loss beneath his laconic exterior. Sporting a plain, dark suit and a grim expression, Matthew Modine is effective as a mysterious man who appears to be involved in the odd things happening at a hush-hush government research center at the edge of town.

All that said, “Stranger Things'” greatest accomplishment may be in the casting of its younger characters. Millie Brown plays a key figure in the series, and her storyline would likely be ruined if it were discussed in any depth. The other young members of the cast not only avoid the kind of cloying hamminess too frequently seen among child actors, but they also mesh well as a group. Without the kids' winning blend of innocence, camaraderie, sarcasm and fear, “Stranger Things” would be a lot less binge-able.

“Stranger Things” takes refuge in the idea that hard-won connections with other human beings can be a balm in a sea of confusion. It's not a radical or original concept, but it is a comforting one.