Having a cold is a death-knell creatively. Not only can’t you get up and move half the time, but when you do you’re afraid anything you’d write about would get ruined by coughing or sneezing. Fortunately, media helps. And one of the outlets I turned to was The Sandman, which recently finished its run. So let’s discuss it.
I should reiterate that I wish I could appreciate its beauty without being reminded about its original author. I learned a lot in a relatively-short period of time about storytelling from him, even modelling one of my stories on one of his. So that Neil Gaiman has disappointed me? That’s rather tough to swallow. Still, like I said last time, it’s a sin to waste a good dream, of which this show feels like in droves.
Perhaps that’s why the conclusion being about legacy and succession hits home. Though it’s probably unintentional, Dream being forced to find a successor because of his son’s death feels like the show recognizing its creator and trying to move on. It’s like the people in charge knew his baggage and were commenting on that. I think the resolution dragged on too long, with several fake-outs, but at least it had one. Whether or not it’s satisfactory will vary with each viewer.
Nevertheless, Dream reconciling with his mortality asks an interesting question: are aspirations eternal, or are they mortal? Do dreams live forever, or do they not? The answer is twofold and contradictory, like life itself. Because dreams are as frequently cuts short as not, something life has demonstrated frequently. I applaud the honesty.
That The Sandman has an answer at all feels bold. Dream’s end being inevitable is scary, and most stories would consider this a challenge they wouldn’t be able to resolve. But this one isn’t afraid to look mortality in the face with a solution: start fresh. Use a new Dream, a more human one this time. Enter Daniel Hall, and the tribulations foisted on him from birth.
This is most reflected in how Daniel presents his role. He has the coldness of the first Dream in his voice, but the human warmth of someone who was mortal. He initially is unsure of how to do his job, retreading the path of his predecessor, until one of his creations chides him for it. It’s fitting that the wise nightmare known as Fiddler’s Green does that, as he was always the kindly mentor figure. For someone like Daniel, this sagely advice sets him on his way.
In the previous piece I wrote on this show, covering the first-half of Season 2, I said that a scene at the end had me in tears. This centred around Orpheus’s death, the troubled son of Dream who wished for his life to end. Dream granted that wish, much at his own expense. In Season 2’s second-half, I was in tears all throughout the final episode, the funeral scenes particularly. Perhaps it struck close to home, having lost my Zaidy three Summers ago, but the other Endless reminiscing on their relationships with Dream reminded me of the frailties of people, even those we love. That each Endless expresses regrets at not being close with Dream, despite being family, made me cry. Contending with the remnants of a cold didn’t help.
This is most reflected in how Daniel presents his role. He has the coldness of the first Dream in his voice, but the human warmth of someone who was mortal. He initially is unsure of how to do his job, retreading the path of his predecessor, until one of his creations chides him for it. It’s fitting that the wise nightmare known as Fiddler’s Green does that, as he was always the kindly mentor figure. For someone like Daniel, this sagely advice sets him on his way.
In the previous piece I wrote on this show, covering the first-half of Season 2, I said that a scene at the end had me in tears. This centred around Orpheus’s death, the troubled son of Dream who wished for his life to end. Dream granted that wish, much at his own expense. In Season 2’s second-half, I was in tears all throughout the final episode, the funeral scenes particularly. Perhaps it struck close to home, having lost my Zaidy three Summers ago, but the other Endless reminiscing on their relationships with Dream reminded me of the frailties of people, even those we love. That each Endless expresses regrets at not being close with Dream, despite being family, made me cry. Contending with the remnants of a cold didn’t help.
What struck me as the most personal was Desire’s eulogy. The eccentric sibling, Desire and Dream rarely got along. On several occasions, the two were at each other’s throats, threatening to end one another. So to hear that Desire longed for the continuation of that relationship was heartbreaking. It made me think of real-life relationships that were faulty, and how one party often missed the other when they were gone.
Then there’s Delirium. Poor, innocent Delirium. The youngest of The Endless, Delirium’s sincerity meant that Dream’s death would be especially hard. But she was a trooper, and, as her name suggested, she’d be both comforted and upset by his passing in her own way. Considering she was already my favourite Endless, this made like her more.
Above all else, the passing of the torch seals the deal for this show. It’s been a rocky, sometimes messy two seasons, and some of its decisions weren’t my favourites (why give Abel a cross at his grave?). Yet even at its lowest points, creator included, I admired and respected its ambitions. For an adaptation that took forever to get going, only getting a Netflix release through Warner Bros. Television, I don’t know if The Sandman could’ve had a better sendoff. Comic purists will have a field day nitpicking what doesn’t work, or calling out missed storylines, but despite the updates and changes there’s a lot to admire and love here…warts and all. That, I think, is worth the bumps and lumps.
Then there’s Delirium. Poor, innocent Delirium. The youngest of The Endless, Delirium’s sincerity meant that Dream’s death would be especially hard. But she was a trooper, and, as her name suggested, she’d be both comforted and upset by his passing in her own way. Considering she was already my favourite Endless, this made like her more.
Above all else, the passing of the torch seals the deal for this show. It’s been a rocky, sometimes messy two seasons, and some of its decisions weren’t my favourites (why give Abel a cross at his grave?). Yet even at its lowest points, creator included, I admired and respected its ambitions. For an adaptation that took forever to get going, only getting a Netflix release through Warner Bros. Television, I don’t know if The Sandman could’ve had a better sendoff. Comic purists will have a field day nitpicking what doesn’t work, or calling out missed storylines, but despite the updates and changes there’s a lot to admire and love here…warts and all. That, I think, is worth the bumps and lumps.
Though it’s a shame about Neil Gaiman. If only he hadn’t done what he done, maybe I’d be more accepting of the show as a whole than I am now?
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