Throughout history, adaptations have defined media. Some of the earliest stories of oral tradition relied on retellings and additions created by a new speaker. This interest in stories, formed from old and new elements, has fascinated audiences. In a period of oversaturation in media, adaptations proliferate.
There are generally two types of adaptations in media. First is an adaptation that ignores the source material, choosing to follow the adapter's vision rather than the artists. A popular example being The Shining. The contrast is where each element is put to screen, where everything is re-packaged, like the case of 300.
Achieving a middle ground is often difficult. Artists must maintain their creative stamp while directors deserve to portray their own vision. Inside this zone of negotiation, we find classics like Dune (2021), Scott Pilgrim vs. The World and Netflix's The Sandman.
The Sandman comic is a sprawling comic book epic by writer Neil Gaiman. It follows seven eternal siblings representing aspects of life including Death, Desire and Destiny. Dream, the piece's protagonist, is captured by a sorcerer who has held him for a hundred years. This results in the collapse of the Dreaming landscape and an introduction to the world.
The story draws from themes of religion, history, philosophy, folk tales and comics. The titular Sandman himself is a re-imagining of a gas-masked character of the same name. The comic also adapts the play A Midsummer Night's Dream, an award-winning story where Shakespeare and company perform for an audience of fantastical beings.
While the artwork often ranges in style from the detailed exaggeration of Sam Kieth to the near cubist cartoon of Marc Hempel, The Sandman maintains its core elements. Across 75 issues, each artist maintains the pale-skinned, black-haired protagonist.
Moving from page to screen results in a TV show that not only adheres to the source material but improves upon it. The relationship can be understood as a rhyme. This could be a mirroring of iconic shots, perfect casting, well-written narration and even the end credits. The creative team behind the show has taken strides to maintain aspects of the comic in a new format.
In the adaptation, character beats, interstitial conversations and dialogue are expanded. The additions are not substantial but serve to bridge the passage of time between panels. Scenes on the page are snippets from a period of time, with panel-to-panel movement indicating the passage of time. In adaptation, the writers have formatted the show properly.
It is in the overlooked detail that the show's creative directions shine. The credits become a collage of imagery and artwork evocative of the surreal covers of artist Dave McKean. Mckean's work has been featured on the cover of The Sandman collections. His artwork has become as synonymous with the comic as the writer. The attention to McKean's contributions to the comic shows a deeper understanding of the comic itself, a remix of the work rather than a rehash.
The Sandman exists upon foundations of retelling stories, rethinking dreams and reassessing ourselves. At its core, The Sandman is a subject on adaptation. While we watch the show for pure escape, the show and comic ask questions about what stories we choose to tell and what we repeat.
Benjamin Ervin is a senior studying English literature and writing at Ohio University. Please note that the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Want to talk more about it? Let Benjamin know by emailing him be425014@ohio.edu.
