I almost didn’t watch this adaptation. I certainly put it off long enough.
When I first found out Sandman was getting adapted for screen there was a mix of excitement and trepidation. Excitement, because it’s my all-time favorite comic by one of my all-time favorite authors. Trepidation, because it seems just about impossible to adapt and because the TV series American Gods was such a disappointment. And because Netflix with its penchant for pandering and YA-leaning, Netflix which has long ago forsaken quality for quantity, But then, of course, of course, I simply couldn’t stay away. And lo and behold, Sandman was actually good. In fact, it’s about as perfect of an adaptation as the infinitely complex comic universe might have hoped for. Yes, it has been put through the Netflix machine and did come out striving to be the world’s most inclusive, epically queer, gender and racially diverse show, with color- and gender-blind casting all over the production. And I mean, ALL OVER IT. Forget the characters you knew, most of them have been reimagined. Some cleverly, some otherwise, most unnecessarily, but there you have it. Distracting but oh so well meaning. Remember how in comics Death was a pale goth teen? Lucifer was male? Lucien the librarian a mop-haired ginger man? Etc. Etc. well, no more, all of that has been reimagined. To varied degrees of success. The new Lucienne is a surprising delight, Death has become an adult, Lucifer doesn’t quite work no matter how much I like Gwendoline Christie; her face is simply too kindly for the role and don’t even get me started on that coiffure. Sandman at least they kept as close to the books as possible; he is played to a near perfection by Tom Sturridge, an actor who I mostly associated with a stupid old romcom where he played a perpetually pajamaed mime. But no, Sturridge can actually act and well, he embodies the Lord of Dreaming with poise and panache, deepening his voice, perfecting the all-too-serious demeanor. I’d long suspected Sandman to be a stand-in for Gaiman himself. Tall, moppy-haired, always dressed in black. The man weaves dreams and nightmares…what better analogy for a writer is there? Well, I imagine Gaiman is flattered by Sturridge’s depiction of his signature character. Sturridge nails Sandman, the pouty, moody, broody Morpheus. And serves as a perfect glue to serve what might have been otherwise a choppy disjointed production together. Because by nature, Sandman is a very elaborate discursive universe, there is something of an anthology-like quality to the production. There are simply so many stories to tell. And it works, It all works. These lovely strange, poignant tales with their lovely, strange, poignant morals are such a pleasure to revisit in a new format. There are so many stories left untold still; not even all of the Endless have been introduced. And then there are the visuals. The comics have always been stunning, and I’m pleased to say, the show does them justice. It’s spectacular to look at, from iconic images to reimagined. The TV show’s Dreaming is positively dreamy. This is a feast for the eyes. It looks like art in motion. All in all, a terrific adaptation. Good enough to delight fans of the original work. Exciting enough to create new fans. That’s good television. Recommended.
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