Sandman TV Review

DISCLAIMER: I watched the whole thing in a COVID-induced fever-fugue state over the course of about 25 hours. Arguably, this only heightened the experience.

I dearly love the Sandman comics, it's no exaggeration to say that my first read of them was a revelation. They changed my life, opened my eyes to a new way of telling and relating to stories. but the techniques and presentation that were so well-suited to comics seemed doomed to make them a poor fit for film/TV. I never really got my hopes up over the years at this or that news, and until I heard Gaiman discussing details of production earlier this year, I didn't really let myself believe it was happening. too much could go wrong, and even Gaiman's support only meant so much after Martin's fervent defense of the latter seasons of Game of Thrones.

I avoided spoilers, promo materials, and even forced myself just to skim conversations friends were having about it before I got around to watching it. Having watched it, my reaction is...mixed.

It's a very well-made show, the most important casting choices are all excellent, the CGI is beautiful, and the story is adapted and presented faithfully and appropriately. at times I felt myself transported to the feeling I'd had reading the comic, those highs are really hard to nail and at times, they did it.

But I have reservations in spite of those positives. I didn't have any major issues with changes from the comic after the first episode; that is, the first ep changed little enough that I found the few changes distracting and pointless (seems to have been mostly an effort to make Alex a more dynamic character through various ways). later eps changed more to the point it didn't seem worth critiquing differences when the shape of whole subplots could be different.

Ultimately, I think they didn't change enough to justify this version. There's a certain sense that the whole production is kind of gratuitous. Recreating beautiful, heartfelt moments from the comic is a nice idea, but they're delivered with so much emphasis that it feels like the show wants to stop and wait for you to applaud whenever one of the characters says something iconic. It stops feeling natural and strikes more theatrically. One of the most glaring character traits of comic Morpheus is his lack of self-awareness, but show Morpheus never lets you forget that he's *performing*.

There are other ways the show's production is doomed to fall short of the comic. The surreal landscapes and impossibly vivid grotesques featured in graphic detail in the comic have been narrowed, simplified, or simply removed. This is probably in service of saving money on CGI so that the more up-close, character-oriented stuff can be better, and the CGI that remains is generally really high quality. Sandman TV's visuals are certainly trippy, but usually in the service of adequately realizing one of the less-trippy visuals from the comic. That's a legitimate artistic resource allocation choice, and I think the choices mostly make sense, but the overall effect is underwhelming compared to what's presented in the comic. Maybe some people are so desperate for live-action versions of their favorite works that they don't mind those compromises, but I can't help but feel a little sad for the visionary limits associated with those costs.

There are basically two avenues to take in this kind of project:  make something that depends and expands on the original work, or make something that works as an alternate interpretation or introduction to the original work. They clearly went with the latter choice, and I don't blame them for that. And this is no alternate interpretation, but an earnest attempt to repackage the same story for a modern TV audience. It's an effort to expand the Sandman audience to people who might not want to read 35-year-old comics. It seems successful in that regard, but that choice means its appeal is necessarily limited compared to what might have been created with a different goal in mind, and being aware of that makes me feel a little disappointed, even though I understand what would appeal to me most would be a far less commercially viable product (ain't that always the way).

All in all that's to say I'm really glad this was made, I'm glad there is an audience for Sandman stories, I'm glad there are producers willing to fund efforts to tell those stories. The issues that were adapted for Season 1 are by far the most straightforward and easily-adapted to film, so I'm optimistic that future seasons may dig more deeply into a comparatively philosophical, cerebral storytelling approach (though I shouldn't get my hopes up too much, as most viewers would probably find that stuff pretty boring). But for now, as much as I enjoyed being reminded of the stories I've grown around, my appreciation for the series never really transcended being grateful for the really vivid reminder.

Last point: although the casting is generally great, I have some concerns about the seemingly pervasive choice to cast as many parts as possible with black actors to the exclusion of other non-white actors. Maybe that's primarily a factor of the demographics in southeast England -- filming in America it might have been easier to cast people of asian, middle eastern, or other non-white appearance. At any rate, it doesn't detract from the stories except in how obviously sparsely populated the show is with actors who aren't white or black. Given the subject matter, it also means the show seems particularly intent on killing or traumatizing black people. A change for diversity's sake is harmless enough, but a series of changes that happen to depict the suffering of one group over and over again for no clear reason just starts to feel uncomfortable.

UPDATE: Netflix released an 11th episode over a week after I finished watching the series, and it's a fantastic adaptation of two of the comic's best issues; one entirely CGI, and the other almost entirely without. They were so well done it raised my opinion of the entire show. We have so much to look forward to.

the car ride

My name is David Lime, and these are my final thoughts.

It's a little silly to be narrating them as a blog post, I guess. But that's the way I'm used to thinking through problems. Sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, dig out the heart of the matter and turn it around. Examine every side. Notice how I'm feeling.

I've been taking a mindfulness class at work. When I remember to go, it's really edifying. The instructor tells me I'm really making strides. I know that's just something they say, but I'm still proud. She's right, even if she has to say it no matter how I do.

Right now I'm feeling a lot of ways. Scared, confused, angry. Hard to tell which emotion is winning out. All because my girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, can't control herself. I've always known that about her. I used to find it really attractive, how she'd just say what she was feeling all the time. It's something I'm still working on.

Guess I'm out of time, now. These are my final thoughts because of the predicament I'm in. That predicament involves a roll of duct tape, a brick, and my 2002 Chevy Impala. Well, my mom's Impala, actually, but she's letting me drive it because the insurance is cheaper that way.

I can't actually see the brick, not anymore. I saw it in my girlfriend's, or ex's, hand when she went to place it on the gas pedal. Then she looked really surprised as the car sped off with me in it, like that wasn't exactly what she expected to happen. 'Let's drive to the river and talk,' she'd said. It was pretty hard to talk with my mouth taped shut.

It was my fault, really. I know, I know, 'violence isn't the answer' and all, but I guess I was pretty stupid. I didn't think she'd take it so hard -- we basically only talk over text anymore -- but breaking up with her that way was a bridge too far. Oh, yeah, I can see the bridge out the window, too. There isn't really that much bridge before the river, so I'm thinking this all pretty fast. All part of the skillset for working out my feelings in awkward situations.

I should be more upset, shouldn't I? My girlfriend, who's about to be my ex, or maybe already is, is about to have killed me. I think she's my ex, at least. It ought to kick in as soon as one person decides it's over. But maybe that's not how it works. Maybe you have to give the other person a chance to accept it first. At any rate, this car is going in the river, and then we'll be exes one way or the other.

I remember on Facebook once, back when we still used Facebook, we set our relationship status to 'It's Complicated', as a joke. But it was true, too, even if we didn't let our friends see. We fought a lot, back then. We've barely been fighting at all lately. I'd been thinking things were going pretty well. Hmm, now I'm having trouble remembering why I wanted to end it. Maybe it's the stress. That seems reasonable.

Ow! Oh, the car just hit a bump. I can hear the brick rattling back and forth. Did she place it wrong? Maybe it's an irregular brick. That'd be funny, wouldn't it? Saved by my girlfriend's failure to procure an evenly shaped brick. Well, it was her first time. Mistakes are to be expected.

If I survive this... listen to me. If. The hope is just oozing out of me now. I can't even move. If the car stops, I don't go in the water, what if she just comes back and finishes the job? Or is she going to keep acting surprised, and pretend she didn't mean to do it? What if this is the thing that saves our relationship?

No, no. This girl is trying to kill me. I can't look past that. Forgiveness is great, and moving on, but she's demonstrated she's a danger. The only way out is through, they say. 

Actually, I have no idea what that means.

The car tilts forward, and I lift into the air. Weightless. So the brick stayed on. Here comes the river. Some last words. I wish I had learned why people love sports. I wish I had held a baby that wasn't crying. I wish I had gotten to visit my friend's microbrewery. I wish I had tried harder at work. I wish I hadn't made my girlfriend so angry that she decided to murder me.

You always think there's going to be more time for this sort of stuff. You think you're going to get a cancer diagnosis and waste away for a few months, or decline gracefully into an old age that's practically like being dead already. I had a lot more blog posts to write.

There's a huge smack, and water starts coming in. I smack, too, straight into the seat in front of me. Something in my cheek cracks. I guess that is my cheek. It hurts, which is weird for that spot. My right leg is wedged under the passenger seat, now. It's getting wet. But the rest of me isn't.

I twist my body as much as I can, but all I can see is door and sky. Looking the other way, I can see the water level isn't rising, and the car isn't really angled anymore. I'm not sinking. How deep is this river, anyway?

There's a splashing sound, and my girlfriend tears the door open, ugly crying and shouting how sorry she is. Half a brick floats across the backseat and bumps into my knee. The sun is making a halo in her hair, and she smells like apples. I can't help but smile up at her, and she pulls me into a warm embrace, not even recoiling at how soggy I am. I wince when she presses her cheek against mine, but it's worth it.

'I love you,' she says, meaning it. I can tell.

'Will you...marry me?' I ask, taking some time to adjust my mouth so the words come out normal. A couple of my teeth seem to be in the wrong spot.

'Yes!' she yells, still crying. Women can be so emotional.

She tears off the duct tape, which is pretty painful on my face, and helps me sit up. Looking around at the car, I get a sinking feeling. Not a literal one, the car isn't going anywhere, but in my stomach.

'My mom is going to be pissed.'

My girlfriend keeps kissing me on the cheek. I notice I'm confused. I mentally scroll up a few paragraphs.

'Did you just...try to kill me?' I ask, carefully keeping any emotion from my voice. It's not productive.

She goes really quiet, and the kisses stop. The brick bumps against my shin this time.

'I wasn't trying to kill you,' she whispers, 'I just wanted to scare you. It got... out of hand.'

I nod slowly at that. It had, indeed, gotten out of hand. 'Well, that's settled,' I say firmly. 'Please don't do that again.'

She nods, almost crying again. She helps me out of the car, and we walk to the riverbank.

'Oh, your sundress, it's all dirty,' I comment, seeing the hem of her favorite dress all messed up by the river water.

She frowns. 'It's nothing. Don't be silly. How's your face?'

I let her dote on me for a while. This kind of fussing makes her feel like she's being useful, and letting her feel that way is important. I focus on the ruined car. It was really old. She'd probably done my mom a favor. I'd need to take the bus for a while, but that wasn't so bad.

Two birds land on the car's roof. They scan its peeling paint, looking for some morsel, and chirp at each other in disappointment when they find nothing but paint chips. They look so pretty, and perfectly suited for their purpose. Perfectly suited for each other. I feel a little better. They start to sing.

The car explodes, a sudden torrent of fire ripping up through the songbirds and into the sky, more of a column than a ball, like directed fury. It takes the rest of the car too, and in moments, as the heat wave gives me a sunburn, and steam rises from the river, my mom's Impala is reduced to a skeleton.

My girlfriend grips my wrist tightly as it burns.  'Oh my God!' she cries. 'I'm so glad I saved you!' She throws both arms around me, and goes to jump into my arms, like we used to do. I sway, my legs losing their ability to stand, and collapse to the ground, hitting my head on a cool, smooth river rock--