You Were Dreaming

I've always read comics but the comic that first got me really excited about dramatic storytelling in the artform was Sandman. Before I read Alan Moore or Jaime Hernandez or most anything in the diverse and radical world of '80s and '90s American comics, I read Neil Gaiman's Sandman. In the late '90s, for a while, every day after work, I'd buy one of the collected volumes at the comic shop in the mall and sit down and read the whole thing cover to cover. It was a transformative experience, one of the significant landmarks in my life as an artist. And now it's a Netflix series.

I've seen the first six episodes and I'd say I'm about 85% pleased with it. Some of it makes me really happy. From the moment David Thewlis took his seat in the diner in episode five, I became increasingly excited by the horror show unfolding. I love how time was spent establishing and fleshing out every character in the diner. It was a treat.

And a lot of the magic about Dream is captured. The standout moments for me are the death of Gregory and the brief scene with Nada in Hell. Dream's centuries-long relationship with Hob Gadling is perfectly handled. All of these things contribute to the sense of Dream being the King of Dreams. He's disconnected in a way that a monarch needs to be to make decisions but not without compassion or understanding.

Tom Sturridge certainly looks the part although he's very different to my impression of Dream. I wish they'd blacked out his eyes and modified his voice. He seems much more human than the character in the comics. But I could see how a more ethereal Dream would be a hard sell. Similarly, I was disappointed by the overabundance of exposition. I know it's probably seen as necessary in order to get the largest audience possible but it diminished the potential shock in many moments, particularly regarding Dreams imprisonment.

It would take an extraordinary filmmaker to evoke the kind of madness in Sam Kieth's art or the harshness of Mike Dringenberg's. So the possibility of the series approaching the quality of the comic was always remote and maybe the conservative approach they took, as opposed to an experimental one, was wisest in the circumstances. Unless they could have gotten Terry Gilliam or David Lynch, I guess it was wise to keep a lid on things a bit. Still, I was disappointed the diner scene ended with Dream explaining how the lies John Dee was trying to kill were the dreams that enriched people's lives. It didn't really make sense and seemed a bit trite.

I don't remember if there was any version of it in the comic. All my Sandman comics are back in the U.S. I also don't remember if Dream had a raven hanging about when he was imprisoned. I felt like I'd have wondered why the raven couldn't have smudged the magic circle or why Dream couldn't have escaped into the raven's mind. And with all the death occurring in the room, I don't remember if there's a rationalisation as to why Death didn't appear and talk to Dream. She chides him for not calling for help. I'm not sure if we're meant to take her as passive aggressive or what.

Death doesn't really feel like the same character, either. She seems more somber and sedate than I imagined her. I suppose that's one of the differences between books and their adaptations, even comic books and their adaptations. Our imagination does a lot of work when we experience the printed page, even with illustrations. But I wonder if there was concern that she was too much of a manic-pixie-dreamgirl in the source material.

She's played by a black actress, Kirby Howell-Baptiste, despite being usually portrayed as white in the comic. I guess some of the people complaining about it are probably racists. I think some people complaining fear they might be racists so they're coming up with a lot of arguments that don't make sense, like how she should be more like the artist's model or that she's supposed to be Goth. Of course, there were black Goths in the '90s, I think I met one. But I feel like Death and a lot of other characters in the comic are based on a "type" of person and the show has moved away from that. Generally, I think there's a pervasive fear of indulging in stereotypes now. It's a fair debate to be had, I think. When a writer sits down to create a character, is it fair to ask, "Okay, I want this person to be a typical example of this subculture and then I'll peel back the layers and reveal the complex person beneath," or should every character feel detached from such things or be an unusual example? I don't know. Death doesn't exactly bother me on the Netflix series. I did think it odd that she no longer makes fun of Dick Van Dyke's accent in Mary Poppins. But I guess even Death has to mind her manners nowadays.

I was bothered more by Joanna Constantine. And I love Jenna Coleman. I loved her on Doctor Who. Here, because the makers of the show needed to distance it from DC (despite the DC logo appearing at the end of every episode), they had to change John Constantine substantially. But so much of John Constatine remains in the dialogue that it feels really out of place with Coleman's performance and certainly with her wardrobe. She comes off as sharp as a razor and clear as crystal but the dialogue seems meant for someone scruffy and perpetually hungover. It occurs to me that's not the kind of role women are typically allowed to play. Krysten Ritter on Jessica Jones kind of went there. Natasha Lyonne on Russian Doll had that kind of vibe. But Coleman is perfect as the 18th century Joanna Constantine.

I thought Gwendoline Christie was perfect as Lucifer and Mason Alexander Park was born to play Desire. I love the sort of curly Prince Valiant haircut Christie has. Something about it absolutely says, "Fallen Angel". The shoulder pads are just right, too, and I loved how the wings looked like Gustave Dore's illustrations for Paradise Lost. I've only seen a few snippets of Mason Alexander Park as Desire but I feel like I'm seeing Desire coming to life right off the page. They're definitely more suited to this role than they were as Gren on Cowboy Bebop.

But so far, David Thewlis is the standout performance on this show. He absolutely is John Dee and he brings exactly the amount of intellect and pathos the role needs to make it provokingly complicated for the viewer.

But I like this show a lot overall and I'm excited to think that Sandman will be a sensation now. That would be nice.

It's available on Netflix.