On one hand, I know the author The Sandman is an awful person, and he has no remorse. On the other hand, I owe plenty to Neil Gaiman, even using the format of The Ocean at the End of the Lane as a template for something I’m hoping to get published. He’s really talented, and he taught me a lot. So I’m upset and frustrated that one of my literary heroes let me down…again. But I guess that’s what happens when someone with Scientology affiliations writes British fiction.
I mention this as pretext for the second season of The Sandman. I wanted a second season for some time. I enjoyed the first season, and I was hoping to see a continuation of its cliffhanger involving Lucifer. But given what I’ve learned about Gaiman since, I was uncomfortable watching the newest season. Nevertheless, he was a small cog in the production, and everyone else seemed equally uncomfortable. That, and it’s a sin to waste a good dream, of which this show feels like in droves.
I won’t delve much into the season’s story arcs, of which there are several small ones, as well as two major ones. Instead, I’ll share my overall feelings, as well as what kept invested. Because while Gaiman’s involvement has left a sour taste in my mouth, it’s not like he has final control. He’s not JK Rowling, a woman who rules over her IP with an iron fist. Gaiman’s involvement feels secondary, really only there so that his comic translates to television. He’s not the be-all-end-all, so it was more palatable.
It's also easier to swallow because Gaiman could’ve been removed as overseer and little would’ve changed. The creative team’s the best you can get, and the end-result’s really powerful. It shows that, while not irrelevant, the author’s work often transcends them, and that audiences attach to it in ways that are personal. The Sandman, a dreamlike story about family, responsibility and imagination, is one such example, as it moved me.
I won’t delve much into the season’s story arcs, of which there are several small ones, as well as two major ones. Instead, I’ll share my overall feelings, as well as what kept invested. Because while Gaiman’s involvement has left a sour taste in my mouth, it’s not like he has final control. He’s not JK Rowling, a woman who rules over her IP with an iron fist. Gaiman’s involvement feels secondary, really only there so that his comic translates to television. He’s not the be-all-end-all, so it was more palatable.
It's also easier to swallow because Gaiman could’ve been removed as overseer and little would’ve changed. The creative team’s the best you can get, and the end-result’s really powerful. It shows that, while not irrelevant, the author’s work often transcends them, and that audiences attach to it in ways that are personal. The Sandman, a dreamlike story about family, responsibility and imagination, is one such example, as it moved me.
The underlying core, about how dysfunctional families are still families (for better or worse), saves this from being a waste of time. The first season was a surprise hit for Warner Bros., and it had a tough act to follow. Its best episode, about an author abusing a muse to become famous, was about the dangers of artists preying on others. If that was Season 1’s apex, Season 2 had lofty expectations. It doesn’t entirely live up to it narratively, but thematically it works. It even got me to cry at the end.
Going back to the familial aspect, Season 2’s strength was leaning into Dream’s dysfunctional relationship with his siblings. Destiny, Death, Destruction, Dream, Desire, Despair and Delirium all have a tough time being together, yet they all share the same goal of working for humanity. Yet it’s their attitudes toward their work that creates conflict. Some, like Death, Desire and Despair, enjoy their tasks, while others, like Dream and Destiny, feel it an obligation. And then there’s Destruction, who desperately wishes to not be part of it. The entirety of Season 2, therefore, delves into why.
This dynamic is palpable to anyone who’s struggled with family. We all have different relationships with siblings and relatives, some healthier than others, and at times that causes conflict. Yet we regularly try to get by, occasionally offering olive branches for the sake of peace and harmony. It doesn’t always work, but it’s not without trying. And if Season 2’s MVP, Delirium, is indication, it’s the childlike innocence of the youngest member that creates balance.
Going back to the familial aspect, Season 2’s strength was leaning into Dream’s dysfunctional relationship with his siblings. Destiny, Death, Destruction, Dream, Desire, Despair and Delirium all have a tough time being together, yet they all share the same goal of working for humanity. Yet it’s their attitudes toward their work that creates conflict. Some, like Death, Desire and Despair, enjoy their tasks, while others, like Dream and Destiny, feel it an obligation. And then there’s Destruction, who desperately wishes to not be part of it. The entirety of Season 2, therefore, delves into why.
This dynamic is palpable to anyone who’s struggled with family. We all have different relationships with siblings and relatives, some healthier than others, and at times that causes conflict. Yet we regularly try to get by, occasionally offering olive branches for the sake of peace and harmony. It doesn’t always work, but it’s not without trying. And if Season 2’s MVP, Delirium, is indication, it’s the childlike innocence of the youngest member that creates balance.
It also speaks to me as someone who still lives with his parents. A while back, I wrote about Encanto and discussed one of its songs. Its dissection of expectations was powerful and sad, and I felt it as a middle sibling with the weight of societal expectations. Destruction in The Sandman hits home for similar reasons; after all, why conform to expectations when they make you feel guilty? It’s a reasonable question.
But while Destruction’s dilemma’s sympathetic, we’re not meant to agree with him. Not liking your role in life is understandable, but abandoning it is the wrong choice. Why neglect your skillset if it’s too difficult? No one said life would be easy, and Dream’s critique of Destruction is a reminder of that. Doubly-so when you remember Dream’s relationship with his own son, as well as its inevitable resolution. Without spoiling anything, that was where I cried.
I think that’s why I could somewhat overlook Gaiman’s involvement, even if I feel dirty. Because while an awful human being, he still created something timeless. Like my thoughts on Rowling and the Harry Potter series, I can’t deny the impact Gaiman’s work has had on me. He’s simply too influential to do that. I’m sure I’m not alone, either.
But while Destruction’s dilemma’s sympathetic, we’re not meant to agree with him. Not liking your role in life is understandable, but abandoning it is the wrong choice. Why neglect your skillset if it’s too difficult? No one said life would be easy, and Dream’s critique of Destruction is a reminder of that. Doubly-so when you remember Dream’s relationship with his own son, as well as its inevitable resolution. Without spoiling anything, that was where I cried.
I think that’s why I could somewhat overlook Gaiman’s involvement, even if I feel dirty. Because while an awful human being, he still created something timeless. Like my thoughts on Rowling and the Harry Potter series, I can’t deny the impact Gaiman’s work has had on me. He’s simply too influential to do that. I’m sure I’m not alone, either.
If it sounds like I’m dismissing what Gaiman’s done, that’s not intentional. Gaiman will have to answer for his behaviour, and it won’t be pretty. I also think his victims deserve justice, and that he should accept accountability. But I can’t pretend his work hasn’t impacted me. Because he truly touches on the power of dreams in a beautiful and honest way. And it’s a sin to waste a good dream, of which this show feels like in droves.
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