Thoughts on The Sandman Season 1
I took my sweet time on Netflix’s first season of The Sandman in a way that I never would have expected. Mostly that was down to me trying to make it last: this might be the only Sandman content we’ll get on screen, and even if it does get a second season, who knows how long that will take? But another part of it was something Neil Gaiman expressed thirty years ago when he wrote, “the price of getting what you want is getting what once you wanted.” There will be SPOILERS below.
The fact that the show exists and isn’t terrible is itself an achievement. But, like any adaptation, The Sandman has to live up to the challenge of translating itself from the version readers imagined in their heads to a new format. In a lot of ways, it succeeds. In some ways, I was let down. In both cases, I’ve thought hard about the thought behind on the changes and why they matter. I think that Gaiman’s involvement helped keep the show respectful of the source material while trying to let it grow into something new, something that better fits the overall shape of the story. But there were definitely some growing pains.
There were a few small issues that don’t matter much in the grand scheme, but stuck out to me. For example, Vivienne Acheampong is great as Lucienne, but I just wish she were taller; Lucien is an eery, spindly guy in the comics, and it just gives a certain inhuman mystique that Lucienne is missing. Another strange complaint? The Library isn’t just supposed to have all the books not yet written, it’s supposed to have all the books that ever could have been written. That’s my favorite thing about it, and it just got swept aside. Minor, minor gripes, these, but I can’t let them go.
But the biggest problem I have is with Dream himself and Tom Sturridge’s portrayal, the latter of which feels like a bizarre complaint given how completely supportive Gaiman was of the casting. That said, Sturridge feels too wooden in some scenes and too expressive in others. He’s too easy to shock, guilt, and sometimes just ignore. Playing an infinite being is always going to be a challenge, but James McAvoy did such a phenomenal job in the audio drama series that I’m left feeling let down. McAvoy’s voice makes the character feel larger than life, so when emotions breakthrough Dream’s stoicism, they hit HARD. Check out the video below to see what I mean.
Skip to 54 seconds for McAvoy’s thoughts and performance.
Maybe that’s unfair to Sturridge. What I know for sure is that it’s closely tied to my greater issue with Dream: he’s too nice. The show softens him almost from the beginning, which may make him more relatable or likable to audiences in the short-term, but cheapens his storyline. The thing that makes Dream so interesting in the comics is that he’s the king of Dreams AND Nightmares. He’s capable of kindness and compassion, but he’s also terrifyingly spiteful. In the first episode of the show, Dream’s punishment for Alex Burgess is eternal sleep, or, basically a coma. That’s not much of a punishment. He’s already a very old man. In the first issue of the comics, his punishment is eternal waking. Burgess is trapped in a cycle of horrible nightmares from which he wakes up into a worse nightmare. Dream barely has any power at this point, and uses it to torture the son of his captor for the rest of his life in a fit of pride. In the next real adventure, he cures Constantine of his recurring nightmares (the show keeps this one). That contrast makes Dream fascinating. He’s wonderful and terrible.
The sub-plot with Dream being overly rude to Lucienne and learning to accept help is a rushed version of his entire character arc. Dream struggles to relate to others. He’s torn between the rules he created for himself and the knowledge that the people he cares about need him to bend those rules. It’s a big deal. But to give the illusion of a whole story in just one season, they’ve undercut that so he’s learned a lesson by episode ten. That’s a bummer, because when the script and Sturridge indulge Dream’s coldness, it’s so good: Dream matter-of-factly telling Lyta that he will take her husband and her son away from her is unsettling in a way that really sells the character. Dream threatening Desire is a great character moment, and I wish there were more.
A lot of the changes made for practical reasons end up being great decisions: introducing the Corinthian early and keeping him around as a season-long threat is a good call for keeping viewers engaged and a fantastic excuse to give us more of Boyd Holbrook, who is equally fantastic in the role (as are almost all of the main cast, but he’s a sure standout). Characters like Rose and Ethel are given more agency in a way that fleshes out their characters and adds interesting power-struggles that weren’t there in the comics. “A Hope in Hell” ties John Dee and Rosemary’s stories into Dream and Lucifer’s in a way that’s more thematically harmonious and underpins the idea that hope and goodness genuinely matter. And “24/7” adapted the most horrifying issue of the comic into a story that could pass as an award-winning stage play. John Dee’s victims are given more interiority and sympathy and complicated dynamics. It shies away from the very worst parts of the issue, but doesn’t leave much on the table, and because the characters are better developed, what happens to them is more frightening and tragic.
This show matters to me. I’m glad that it exists and I think it deserves to keep going, even as I see places that I think are genuine missteps that I wish someone else had caught. But the original comics weren’t perfect, particularly early on. They grew into something world-changing, and I would love to see the series do the same.