With a total of seventy-five issues that were printed from 1989 to 1996, some might classify The Sandman as being among DC Comics’ “less influential” works… if going solely by “volume.” But by sheer virtue of being conceived and written by Neil Gaiman, The Sandman stands apart from most of DC Comics’ other graphic novels (perhaps that’s the reason it was relegated to the Vertigo imprint of DC—before that, in turn, basically became Black Label). Heralded as “a comic strip for intellectuals” by Norman Mailer, The Sandman became, truly, the stuff that dreams are made of as it achieved the rare feat of being among the anointed few graphic novels to ever make The New York Times Best Seller list. That said, there were many attempts to adapt it for the screen during a period when the technology available to render Dream’s universe (including the Dreaming) was not exactly the best to make it come across “effectively.”
The Sandman, like the character himself being imprisoned for so long, inevitably ended up imprisoned in development hell, with Gaiman commenting of a 90s-era script from Warner Bros., “[It’s] not only the worst Sandman script I’ve ever seen, but quite easily the worst script I’ve ever read.” Gaiman’s dedication to holding out for the right person to adapt the material was also made clear when he stated in 2007, “I’d rather see no Sandman movie made than a bad Sandman movie. But I feel like the time… is coming soon. We need someone who has the same obsession with the source material as Peter Jackson had with Lord of the Rings or Sam Raimi had with Spider-Man.”
That logic would turn out to be largely irrelevant once it was decided that The Sandman was to be a TV series co-developed by Gaiman, David S. Goyer and Allan Heinberg. And with Tom Sturridge (whose career embodies a classic example of industry nepotism) finally coming “fully into his own” aesthetically, there was, at last, no stopping the project. Though one could imagine Sam Riley playing the part (as his interpretation of Ian Curtis in Control can also be viewed as a dead ringer for Dream). And even Robert Pattinson, after seeing his “emo Batman” depiction, could have slid quite nicely into the role. But yes, Sturridge works, too. For he possesses that air of de rigueur haughtiness Dream is known for in the graphic novels.
An arrogance that is diminished after over a century of being held captive by a “sorcerer” (a.k.a. a rich dude with enough time and money to study and practice the occult) named Roderick Burgess (Charles Dance). Although Roderick’s meek son, Alex (played primarily by Laurie Kynaston), is initially sympathetic to Dream’s plight, he turns out to be no better than his father when it comes to lacking any understanding of the gravity of his actions in continuing to hold Dream captive. For it has caused a worldwide epidemic humans like to refer to as the “sleepy sickness,” having no awareness that what’s causing people to remain in a state of perpetual dreaming is the fact that Morpheus is not able to perform his essential duties, least of which includes sprinkling sand over eyelids.
It is only thanks to Alex’s long-time partner, Paul (Christopher Colquhoun), that Dream is able to escape. Once Paul slides Alex’s wheelchair (because yes, that much time passes) over the drawn-out runes of the circle keeping Dream trapped, it’s over for these bitches. In this instance, the security guards standing watch as Morpheus enters one of their dreams to get him to do his bidding and shoot the glass open. And yet, the satisfaction Dream thought he would get from freeing himself and exacting revenge on Alex by giving him the same eternal sleep other humans were subjected to ultimately rings hollow. Perhaps because, upon viewing the state of the Dreaming in his absence, he realizes there was something misguided about trying to continue to rule and control in the same manner as before. To boot, Lucienne (Vivienne Acheampong), the librarian who has essentially become the “responsible party” in Morpheus’ absence, has clearly done a very capable job by ruling (“overseeing,” if you prefer) with gentility instead of an iron fist.
Even so, it hasn’t stopped the Dreaming from deteriorating and losing many of its inhabitants. And yet, even before the residents fled in Dream’s absence, it was one specific nightmare’s fleeing, the Corinthian (Boyd Holbrook), that got him into this whole mess in the first place. Because it was a result of being out in the waking world trying to trap the Corinthian that allowed him to be exposed long enough to get accidentally summoned by Roderick, who was instead desirous of conjuring Death (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), one of Dream’s siblings comprising the Endless.
As Dream reconciles with this new world that has sprung up while he was in captivity—as well as the idea that things really have changed/gone on without him—he begins to notice certain alterations in his own behavior. A palpable humbleness that affects his interactions with others, including his new “emissary,” Matthew the Raven (voiced by Patton Oswalt)—giving Salem in Sabrina, the Teenage Witch a real run for his money. Initially resistant to Lucienne’s suggestion to allow a new raven to accompany him into the waking world after watching his original raven, Jessamy, die trying to save him from his glass cage, Matthew grows on Dream in a way he perhaps never would have conceded to before. His signs of exhibiting mercy and, dare one say it, kindness are also manifest in the third episode, “Dream A Little Dream of Me,” during which he seeks the assistance of Johanna Constantine (Jenna Coleman) in tracking down his pouch of sand, which she admits she left behind at an ex-girlfriend’s after ghosting her.
Finding that Johanna’s ex has been getting “high” off the powder so as to pretend she’s still with Johanna, they find her in a state that reminds one of that scene in Se7en where Mills (Brad Pitt) and Somerset (Morgan Freeman) find a barely-alive man strapped to a bed (representing sloth). At first willing to just leave her there after reclaiming his bag, the guilt he feels thrust upon him from Johanna prompts him to, at the bare minimum, allow her to die peacefully in her sleep instead of continuing to suffer a painful death in the real world.
The next task on Dream’s docket, now that he has his pouch, is to find his helm, which, as he’s told by the Fates, has been stolen by a demon. Naturally, this means going down to Hell and interfacing with Lucifer Morningstar (Gwendoline Christie) to ascertain which demon specifically. Unfortunately for Dream, the demon isn’t so quick to part with it, challenging him to a battle of wits wherein Dream represents himself and Lucifer represents the demon in the challenge. As their game escalates to the point where they’ve imagined no trace of humanity left, Dream invokes “hope” as the last-ditch source with which to outwit Lucifer. For even among the blackness, hope dies last.
And it’s what Dream keeps holding onto as he searches for the final totem that was taken from him: a ruby. Tracing its location to John Burgess (David Thewlis), the son of Roderick (that his paramour, Ethel Cripps, ran away with while pregnant so she wouldn’t have to abort him like Roderick wanted), Dream is shocked to realize that the ruby has been altered. Evidently so that it only adheres to the wishes and whims of John instead of Dream. So it is that Dream gets knocked out by trying to repossess the ruby, which is then taken once again by John. This sets things up for the fifth episode, “24/7”—arguably, one of the strongest in the series. Like an inverse premise to The Invention of Lying, John’s aim is to create a world in which people can no longer lie. And he starts within the microcosm of a local diner. By forcing the small cast of characters within this milieu to tell the truth, it extends to the entire waking world, as we can see the resulting mayhem on the news. Of course, John is ultimately no match for Dream, who reclaims what rightfully belongs to him by allowing it to be destroyed by John in the Dreaming, restoring even more power to Morpheus as the energy from the ruby is funneled back into him.
From this point onward in the series, the narrative siphons off into different directions, with episode six, “The Sound of Her Wings,” in many ways being a standalone plot. One centered around Death and Dream establishing a “project” together in the form of Hob Gadling (Ferdinand Kingsley). When they overhear Hob insist to fellow revelers at the White Horse Tavern in the 1300s that he’ll never die, Death decides to make his arrogant assertion a reality so that Dream can see how long it will take Hob to beg for his life to be over. So it is that they strike a bargain to meet every hundred years, at which time Hob is expected to report to Dream on whether or not he’s still actually enjoying living. To Dream’s shock, even in the worst of circumstances (i.e., abject poverty), Hob declares to love life. At one point during Hob’s discussion of this, however, Dream is distracted by an aspiring playwright named “Will Shaxberg” (obviously, that’s going to change later).
Will happens to be marveling at the talent of his idol, Christopher Marlowe, as he talks of being willing to give anything to be a formidable playwright himself, to “create new dreams to spur the minds of men.” It is here that Dream takes him aside to presumably strike a deal, offer some kind of Faustian pact. Indeed, it’s only fitting that William Shakespeare’s involvement with Dream should conclude with him writing the final “commission” for Morpheus, The Tempest (the first was A Midsummer Night’s Dream). In other words, the very play from which the iconic line from Prospero is delivered: “We are such stuff/As dreams are made on, and our little life/Is rounded with a sleep (read: Death).” Yet it would somehow be made even more iconic by Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) rephrasing it in The Maltese Falcon as, “The stuff that dreams are made of…” Maybe John Huston (who adapted Dashiell Hammett’s novel) struck a deal with Dream as well. In any case, what it refers to in both instances is the ephemerality of everything, particularly life itself.
This theme plays effortlessly into the plotline that dominates the second half of the season: Rose Walker a.k.a. the Vortex (Kyo Ra). For, as her “nickname” suggests, Rose will be capable of sucking up all existence in the waking and dream worlds (breaking down the barrier between both) if allowed to go on living for too much longer. As this becomes the central focus of the latter portion of The Sandman, we’re taken on a journey to unlikely places (e.g., a “Cereal” Convention) as we encounter unlikely guest stars (e.g., Stephen Fry), to boot. All of which is to say that The Sandman, despite the endless waiting, has been worth it to be able to enter this form of Gaiman’s dreamland, this particular stuff that adaptation dreams are made of. And with the final episode, “Lost Hearts,” blatantly setting things up for a second season, who knows which aspects of the graphic novels Gaiman will feel inclined to show us next? The only thing for certain is that we haven’t seen the last of Lucifer. Or Desire, for that matter.
