“People think dreams aren’t real because they aren’t made of matter, of particles,” says Doctor Destiny in The Sandman, the new Netflix show based on the Neil Gaiman comics from the ‘80s and ‘90s. “Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.”
From the Bible to Dante and from surrealist artists to the founders of modern psychology, we have long been fascinated by dreams. Where do they come from? What are they “made” of? And do they have any significance for us in our waking lives? Forget Freud’s On The Interpretation of Dreams, there is perhaps no greater modern work that explores dreams than the acclaimed graphic novel this show is based on, first published by DC Comics and illustrated by Sam Kieth, Mike Dringenberg, and Malcolm Jones III. The Sandman is a heady mix of symbols, occultology, Greek mythology, and dream psychology, invoking Dante’s Inferno, Milton’s Paradise Lost, history, horror, dark fantasy, and even theology. It is one of the most audacious cultural creations of modern times. And within the comic book genre, it rivals the work of Robert Crumb, Art Spiegelman, and Alan Moore.
The challenge facing the writers and directors of Netflix’s The Sandman in adapting such a complex and admired work must have been immense. It must have helped, then, that Gaiman himself was involved extensively in this television adaptation of his own comic series. Writer and producers David Goyer and Allan Heinberg are not lacking in credentials either; Goyer was one of the screenwriters of the acclaimed 2008 movie The Dark Knight, and Heinberg was one of the screenwriters of Wonder Woman (2017). Together, they have produced an adaptation of one of the most beloved comic book series of all time that should satisfy its legions of devoted fans while also attracting newcomers to the rich, immersive dreamworld of The Sandman.
The first season of The Sandman is centered on Dream, also known as Morpheus, played by the English actor Tom Sturridge. Dream is one of the “Endless,” a cadre of immortal godlike beings in Gaiman’s dreamworld who are living embodiments of abstract concepts. We may be familiar with such anthropomorphic personifications from Greek mythology, such as the Fates and the Furies. In The Sandman’s mythology, not only are the Fates real beings but so too are Desire, Despair, Death, and Dream, among others. Dream has jet-black hair, skin so pale it could blind you, and an utterly expressionless face. He hardly speaks for some entire episodes. When he does open his mouth, it is to speak in such a low monotone that you need to keep your remote in your hand while watching it.
We first meet Dream by way of a magical mishap. The Sandman begins in Wych Cross, England, in 1916, during the height of World War I. Gaiman likely chose it as the opening setting for his dark fantasy comic for its occultlike resonances. The Sandman’s Wych Cross is where we find the manor of the magus Roderick Burgess, founder of the Order of Ancient Mysteries black magic society. Burgess is played by Charles Dance, who may look familiar to fans of The Crown, on which he played another scheming, occasionally maleficent, and ultimately foiled character, Lord Mountbatten. Burgess is distraught over having lost his favorite son, Randal, in the failed Allied incursion of Gallipoli. Randal has convened his magical order to engage in a night of occult ceremonies and incantation-chanting in an attempt to summon and capture Death. He plans to hold Death hostage until Death agrees to return his son to him.
But Roderick has botched the ingredient ratios in his spell. And so, when he and his order have completed their chanting, they end up summoning not Death but Dream. Burgess captures and imprisons him anyway, partially out of frustration and partially in the hope that Dream may still have the power to give him something of value in exchange for his release. If Dream cannot restore his son to him, then Roderick hopes that at least he might be able to grant him wealth, power, or immortality. Roderick’s plan B proves unsuccessful, thanks to Dream’s superhuman ability to play the silent game for scores of years.
Dream’s capture, however, is not an isolated event in southeastern England. Because Dream has been removed from his natural realm, he can no longer practice his trade in the human realm — the nightly work of putting people to sleep and putting dreams into sleepers. As a result, a “sleeping sickness” engulfs the world, in which millions of people across the globe lose their ability to sleep, while others who are sleeping lose the ability to wake up.
When Dream finally does escape after having been confined in the Burgess estate for 105 years, he has many wrongs to right. He must first recover the possessions, needed to work his own real magic, that were stolen from him by the pseudo-magician Burgess during his captivity. And, like a hero in a Greek myth, he must confront the Fates, descend into the Underworld, and regain his powers so that he can bring dreaming back into a dreamless world.
Netflix’s Sandman doesn’t treat DC Comics’s Sandman as a storyboard. Though it is very faithful to much of its EC Comics-influenced visual aesthetic and to many elements of its storyline, it is confident enough in its own capabilities to create scenes and themes of its own accord. Patton Oswalt is a little out of place as the voice of Matthew the Raven, a casting choice better suited for an animated children’s movie. Other than this bungled attempt to inject comic relief into a show that does not need it, and other than the less-than-stellar episodes two and three, the series has all the components necessary to justify its current standing as the top Netflix show in the world. Aided by breathtaking special effects and a story woven from the finest strands of epic literature and individual artistic genius, The Sandman has a sense of grandeur to it that is lacking in nearly all other television shows being produced today. And its episode six, which can be understood and appreciated even if you see no other episodes of the show, ranks among the single most profound episodes of television produced in the streaming era.
The Sandman is a big event for the small screen — though I would advise you not to stream it on your phone and to, at the very least, try to watch it on a fairly large smart TV so you can fully take in all the marvels of this beautiful production. And so you can be taken in by it.
Daniel Ross Goodman is a Washington Examiner contributing writer and the author, most recently, of Somewhere Over the Rainbow: Wonder and Religion in American Cinema.
