As someone who has read the comics - The Absolute Sandman 1-4 and Absolute Death proudly sit on my shelf - I approached this adaptation with cautious optimism.
Season 1 blew those doubts away. From the extraordinary visuals to Tom Sturridge's hauntingly precise embodiment of Dream, it struck the delicate balance of fitting television while never betraying Neil Gaiman's original vision. Episodes like The Sound of Her Wings reminded me why the material was always considered "unfilmable", and why that was wrong.
Season 2 deepened the world. Season of Mists delivered scope, The Song of Orpheus merged Greek myth with tragic inevitability, and the introduction of Destruction and Delirium proved the Endless could thrive on screen. Even side players like Johanna Constantine and the Corinthian elevated the ensemble. For much of the season, it was intelligent, faithful, and frankly cinematic television at its best.
And then came the stumble. The closing arc in Ep 11, and then a needless Ep 12, felt indulgent and oddly slight... a missed opportunity to end with the grace and gravitas the comics achieved. Having loved Season 1 and nearly all of Season 2, this final note was jarringly flat, as if the production lost sight of its own rhythm.
Still, across two seasons, The Sandman remains one of the most ambitious and visually stunning comic adaptations ever attempted. Even with its uneven close, it captured the heart of Gaiman's mythos and gave us performances (Sturridge especially) that deserve to be remembered.
That Netflix has now cancelled it only underlines the melancholy: a dream realised, but cut short.
