Tag / Horror

by whatsonsidsmind

Obsession Review: The $1 Million Indie Horror Phenomenon That’s Changing the Game

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 7 Min Read

Once in a great while, a horror film emerges from the independent space and fundamentally alters the rules of the game. The Blair Witch Project (1999) redefined horror through found-footage realism. Paranormal Activity (2007) turned static security cameras into instruments of dread. Get Out (2017) proved that horror could be both socially incisive and commercially dominant, while Hereditary (2018) elevated the genre into the realm of arthouse tragedy. Obsession belongs in that conversation.

The Hype:

Made on a shoestring budget estimated somewhere between $7,50,000 and $1 million, Obsession has already grossed over $100 million worldwide in just its second week of release. Even more surprising is the fact that it comes from the mind of a YouTuber. Not that filmmakers haven’t made that leap before, but what has people talking is not the novelty of its origins. It is the sheer craftsmanship on display. This is a film that is as technically assured as it is relentlessly entertaining.

That said, Obsession is not for everyone. It is unlikely to satisfy fans looking for conventional scares, and it certainly isn’t for the squeamish. Its appeal is decidedly niche, aimed at a younger audience, perhaps the very generation to which its 26-year-old director, Curry Barker, belongs. While this may be Barker’s first theatrical feature, it is hardly his first brush with horror. His 2023 short film The Chair has amassed over 9.8 million views on YouTube, while Milk & Serial, a 62-minute found-footage feature released in 2024, has drawn more than 2.8 million views. Long before Obsession arrived in cinemas, Barker had already cultivated a loyal audience that understood exactly what he was trying to do.

The real question, then, is whether Obsession succeeds beyond its built-in fanbase. Does it work purely as a curiosity born from internet culture, or does it stand on its own merits as a genuinely great horror film?

The Story:

Obsession follows Bear Bailey (Michael Johnston), an awkward young man hopelessly in love with his longtime friend Nikki Freeman (Inde Navarrette). Desperate to win her affection, he turns to a mysterious object, that he bought from an occult shop, known as the “One Wish Willow,” hoping to finally make his fantasy a reality. What begins as a seemingly harmless wish soon spirals into something far darker, as Nikki’s affection mutates into a terrifying and unnatural fixation. As reality itself begins to feel warped by the consequences of his choice, Bear finds himself trapped inside a nightmare of his own making. What follows is a disturbing, darkly funny, and increasingly surreal descent into obsession, guilt, desire, and the horror of getting exactly what you wished for.

Screenplay and Direction:

In a recent interview, Currey Barker spoke about the influence of Jordan Peele on his filmmaking style, particularly his blend of comedy and horror. As Barker puts it, “making someone uncomfortable and making someone laugh is exactly the same thing” from a psychological standpoint. You can see that philosophy at work throughout Obsession.

For a film that is remarkably accessible, there is a lot happening in every scene. Yet none of it gets in the way of the viewing experience. There are moments that make the audience laugh, recoil in disgust, feel frightened, and scratch their heads in confusion, sometimes in rapid succession. What is surprising is how simple many of the techniques are.

Barker relies on familiar horror tools: shadows and silhouettes, unnatural body language and facial expressions, extended takes, and the strategic placement of the monster in the corners of the frame. Yet there is a freshness to the way these elements are composed that gives the film its distinct identity. He understands the value of not showing the monster, using absence as effectively as presence to build anticipation and dread. The jump scares are few, but they land because of the ingenuity of the framing, the sound effects, background score and the precision of the editing rather than sheer number.

The attention to detail is difficult to miss. What is especially refreshing is that these techniques are not employed merely to heighten the scares or make the film more entertaining. They also serve a symbolic purpose, reflecting the nuances of the story and its themes. Nothing feels ornamental. Every creative choice appears to be in service of both the narrative and the experience, which is why the craftsmanship never feels like an extra garnish on the plate.

Performances:

For a film that constantly shifts between horror, comedy, romance and psychological drama, a great deal rests on the shoulders of its actors, particularly the two leads. With much of the film built around their interactions, the success of Obsession depends on whether the audience buys into both the relationship and the nightmare it eventually becomes.

What stands out is the contrast between the roles they are asked to inhabit. Michael Johnston’s Bear is awkward, insecure, vulnerable, and emotionally repressed. Nikki, played by Inde Navarrette, begins as a free-spirited and confident young woman before transforming into something monstrous, predatory, and possessive. The exchanges between the two form the emotional and psychological core of the film.

In a recent interview, Navarrette cited Mia Goth’s performance in Pearl as a key influence on her work in Obsession. Looking back, the comparison feels apt. Like Goth, she brings an unpredictability to the screen that makes every scene feel slightly dangerous. You are never entirely sure what Nikki will do next, and that uncertainty becomes one of the film’s greatest strengths.

If Obsession has a secret weapon, it is Navarrette’s performance. She appears to channel something primal, slipping in and out of Nikki’s increasingly monstrous persona with unnerving ease. It is a performance that is as physical as it is psychological, requiring her to communicate terror, vulnerability, longing, rage, and obsession, often within the same scene. The result is mesmerizing. It is not only the film’s strongest asset but also one of the standout performances of the year so far, and an early contender for awards-season recognition.

Conclusion:

Obsession is far more than an accomplished indie horror film. It stands as a testament to how inventive, ambitious, and artistically rich the genre can be in the hands of a filmmaker with a distinct vision. Through its carefully structured escalation of tension, inventive practical effects, striking transitions between comedy and terror, and a visual style that turns ordinary suburban spaces into sources of dread, Currey Barker has crafted a film that demands to be experienced with a crowd in a theatre. The film’s dynamic camera work, imaginative production design, and expertly timed set pieces generate genuine scares while never losing sight of character or theme, and its dark humour lands all the more effectively because it emerges naturally from the escalating chaos. It is among the finest horror films of the last decade and seems destined to influence the genre for years to come. Aspiring filmmakers, particularly in India, should take note: Obsession proves how much remains possible when imagination, craftsmanship, and storytelling are given equal weight. This is not just a film to watch—it is a film to learn from.

Verdict:

IMDb rating: 8.2/10
Rotten Tomatoes: 96% approval rating
My rating: 4.5/5

Go watch Obsession in a theatre next to you. The hype is real!

Pic credits: Focus Features and Universal Pictures

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About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

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by whatsonsidsmind

Send Help Review: Rachel McAdams Shines in Raimi’s Wild Survival Tale

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 5 Min Read

Sam Raimi’s latest, Send Help, ends with a piece of advice from its protagonist Linda. In the scene, she breaks the fourth wall, stares straight into the camera and says: “No help is coming, so you better start saving yourself.” In many ways, that line captures the soul of the film.

Send Help, beneath its survivor thriller surface, wrestles with power dynamics at the workplace, gender politics, and the gradual escalation of unresolved resentment. But this is still Raimi territory, so the tension is constantly punctured by his trademark cocktail of slapstick comedy and gleefully exaggerated violence. In short, it has all the ingredients of a classic Sam Raimi entertainer.

The question is: does it all come together, or collapse under the weight of its own madness?

Story:

Linda Liddle, played by Rachel McAdams, works in the strategy and planning division of her company. She is competent and hardworking; perhaps too sincere for the corporate machinery she serves. Having been promised a VP position by her former boss, Linda believes her years of loyalty are finally about to pay off. But the company is now run by Bradley Preston, the newly appointed CEO and son of her late mentor, played by Dylan O’Brien. Bradley instead hands the promotion to Donovan, a recent hire and close associate, bluntly telling Linda that she lacks the attractiveness and charisma required for the role.

Humiliated and emotionally cornered, Linda confronts Bradley. Oddly enough, he seems impressed by her defiance and invites her to accompany him, Donovan, and a few senior executives on a private jet to Thailand to finalise a merger. Linda sees it as one last chance to prove her worth. But in true Raimi fashion, the setup quickly curdles into something far nastier. The trip is nothing more than an elaborate exercise in humiliation designed to break her spirit.

Then comes the turn.

The plane flies straight into a violent storm, suffers catastrophic engine failure, and crashes into the sea in a sequence Raimi stages with chaotic energy, panic, and just the right touch of grim absurdity. By morning, everyone is dead except Linda and an injured Bradley, who wash ashore on a deserted island.

Now stranded in isolation, the two are forced into the ultimate team-building exercise: survival. But with resentment, humiliation, and mutual hatred festering beneath the surface, coexistence becomes as dangerous as the island itself. Raimi crafts a deliciously tense setup here, blending survival thriller, psychological warfare, and his trademark streak of darkly comic cruelty into one wildly entertaining premise.

Screenplay:

Like most Sam Raimi films, Send Help wastes very little time getting to the point. Raimi has always been a visionary genre filmmaker obsessed with survival, both physical and psychological. From Evil Dead to Drag Me to Hell, his characters are constantly pushed into chaotic situations where survival becomes messy, painful, and often absurdly funny. What makes Raimi unique, however, is the way he wraps these primal survival themes inside wildly inventive genre frameworks, blending the supernatural, splatter horror, slapstick physical comedy, and known visual tropes into pure cinematic entertainment.

You can find almost all of those Raimi trademarks in Send Help. Yet what is surprising here is the restraint. Raimi occasionally steps back from the chaos to indulge in something far quieter: character study. Some of the film’s best moments are not the violent outbursts or elaborate set pieces, but the simmering exchanges between Linda and Bradley, where resentment, insecurity, and power games quietly bubble beneath the surface. These scenes remain tense and darkly humorous, but they also reveal an unusual level of patience in Raimi’s storytelling.

Even though the film largely revolves around Linda and Bradley, the screenplay gradually introduces several narrative threads that need resolution by the final act. The way screenplay writers, Damian Shannon and Mark Swift, tie these loose ends together is consistently engaging to watch. Themes of power, hierarchy, gender politics, resentment, and revenge are woven seamlessly into the survival narrative, often with surprising subtlety. This is not the relentlessly breakneck Raimi we are used to. Here, he allows certain moments to breathe, giving the film an unexpectedly reflective quality, within the madness.

That said, the screenplay does stumble when it tries too hard to connect every narrative thread. Realism has never really been Raimi’s strength, nor does it need to be, but some late-stage twists and revelations feel convenient, even by his standards. Certain discoveries toward the climax border on the outlandish and slightly dilute the grounded emotional tension the film works hard to establish. The ending, in particular, feels like it needed one more rewrite to fully land its emotional and thematic payoff.

Still, at a lean runtime of just 1 hour and 52 minutes, Send Help is rarely dull. Raimi keeps the film moving with his trademark energy, delivering bursts of gore, laugh-out-loud physical comedy, inventive jump scares, and the kind of restless pacing that reminds you why he remains one of the most distinctive genre filmmakers working today.

Performances:

At its core, Send Help is less about survival and more about the toxic power struggle between Linda and Bradley. Raimi refuses to make either character traditionally likable, forcing them into morally messy situations that test their humanity under pressure.

That challenge extends to the performances. Raimi constantly shifts between tension, violence, and exaggerated comedy, demanding actors balance emotional sincerity with heightened absurdity.

Thankfully, both leads fully commit.

Dylan O’Brien plays Bradley with controlled cruelty, while Rachel McAdams makes Linda feel volatile and emotionally explosive. Their opposing energies give the film much of its tension.

The film also keeps the audience morally unsettled. There are long stretches where neither character feels worth rooting for, and that ambiguity feels intentional.

McAdams is especially strong here. She understands Raimi’s heightened style without losing the emotional core, keeping Linda theatrical yet believable. The film largely rests on her performance, and she carries it confidently.

Conclusion:

Sam Raimi, the filmmaker behind the original Evil Dead trilogy and the first three Spider-Man films, has always been obsessed with survival. In retrospect, his move from horror to superhero cinema feels natural because even heroes trying to save the world must first save themselves. That idea lies at the heart of Send Help.

Beneath its gore, slapstick comedy, jump scares, and dark humor, the film is ultimately about power, resentment, and survival. While the screenplay occasionally relies on convenient twists and an ending that feels undercooked, Raimi’s direction and the committed performances, especially from Rachel McAdams, keep the film consistently engaging. More restrained than his usual work yet still unmistakably Raimi, Send Help is a messy, darkly entertaining survival thriller that reminds you why he remains one of the greatest genre filmmakers of all time.

Verdict:

IMDb rating: 6.8/10
Rotten Tomatoes: 92% approval rating
Metacritic: 75/100

My rating: 3/5

Box office:

Worldwide gross: $94 M
Production budget: $40 M

You can watch Send Help on JioHotstar in India.

Pic credits: 20th Century Studios/Raimi Productions

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About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

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by whatsonsidsmind

Good Boy Movie Review: Emotional, Inventive, and Powered by a Dog You Cannot Look Away From

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 5 Min Read

Good Boy (2025) runs on a slender plot, and on an emotional theme that is deceptively simple. But what it delivers both visually and technically is something the makers can genuinely be proud of.

Written and directed by Ben Leonberg, in his feature debut, and featuring his own dog as the protagonist, Good Boy follows Todd, a young man with a chronic lung disease, who moves from New York to his late grandfather’s isolated house in the woods. His sister Vera believes the place is haunted, and could even have played a part in their grandfather’s death. Todd disagrees. For him, the wilderness is sanctuary. His dog Indy though senses something darker, a presence Todd cannot see. What follows is a battle of instinct versus ignorance. Will Indy keep his master safe, or will both be consumed by something hiding in the shadows?

Leonberg got the spark for this film while rewatching Poltergeist (1982), specifically a scene involving a dog. As a lifelong horror fan, having consumed every conceivable sub-genre, I can say with conviction that there is nothing left in horror that is truly new. Innovation now lies in how familiar tropes are reimagined, in how writing and craft can twist the known into the uncanny.

Good Boy is that kind of horror.

Writers Alex Cannon and Ben Leonberg are smart with their writing. They find ways to keep the audience guessing, even with a deceptively thin storyline. One criticism the film has received is that it is too convoluted. I see that as a strength. The writers play with the viewer’s mind. It is entirely possible to have multiple interpretations of the scenes that unfold, especially the slightly bizarre ending that leaves you with many questions. Despite its narrative limitations, Good Boy challenges you as a viewer. The real genius is in showing everything from the dog’s point of view. It makes the scenes tense, emotionally charged, and keeps you uncertain because you are never fully sure what is happening inside Indy’s mind.

The film’s editing is one of it’s strong points. The interplay of past and present, the use of dream-like sequences before snapping back into present reality, is impactful. It adds to the intrigue. There is also a clever rhythm in the cutting. Quick jump cuts are broken by long pauses and silences. This creates mood, dread, and a constant expectation of something evil about to reveal itself.

Just like the editing, the cinematography does not follow a single pattern. For most of its seventy-three-minute runtime, the camera is focused on Indy’s face. It is the need of the script. The camera follows him wherever he goes. The angles are fluid, constantly shifting to capture his expressions and the subtle changes in his behaviour. The action on screen demands that the camera be quick and kinetic in some moments, and completely still in others.

None of this feels like the work of a first time director. There is a visible sense of craft and confidence in how frames are composed. The static shots are haunting and atmospheric. When the camera moves, it injects energy and adrenaline. There are a few sharp jump scares as well, which add to the film’s thrill.

From a technical standpoint, I believe the editing, the sound design and the camerawork elevate Good Boy beyond its limited story. They give the film its power.

But all said and done, the true star of the film is the dog, Indy. It is through his eyes that the entire story is told. The writing and the technical craft would not have saved this film if the performance had failed at this level. As an audience, you are glued to his face. He has the most expressive eyes and a deeply innocent presence. You start rooting for him. You fear for him. You are fully invested in his journey. Although it looks effortless on screen, there is clearly a lot of preparation behind this. The training, the timing, the precision of camera placement, all of it has been done with care.

IndieWire says this about the canine’s performance: “one of the most emotive actors of his generation, regardless of species.” I agree. I cannot remember another dog performance that has left me this stunned. Dog films usually make you laugh or cry or feel a sense of warmth. They often carry messages of loyalty, companionship or healing. But here, I was engaged because of the dog’s sheer emotional pull. I could not take my eyes off him. That is the magic of this film.

Made on a modest budget of $750000, Good Boy, went onto gross $8M worldwide from its theatrical release. Commendable for a small film with high ambitions.

Verdict:

Despite its limitations, Good Boy challenges you as a viewer and keeps you emotionally invested. It is technically inventive, smart in its writing, and more layered than it first appears. At the heart of it all is a protagonist, a dog, whose emotive ability is mesmerizing. Indy carries the film like a star.

IMDb rating: 6.2 out of 10
My rating: 3.5 out of 5

Good Boy is currently running in select theatres in India.

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About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Khauf Review: When Real Life Is the Real Horror

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 7 Min Read

(You can watch the YouTube review of this web series here – http://bit.ly/3GDQ0KK)

In my opinion, the scariest pieces of cinema are those that portray reality in imaginary worlds. While the horror genre offers the fluidity to blend the real with the unreal, it is often the stories grounded in real-world settings, characters, and societal decay that manage to terrify the most. These films give the audience the unsettling feeling that something from their familiar world has seeped into the imagined world of horror. This could be a room in an opulent house in Georgetown, Washington D.C., where a little girl is possessed by the devil himself (The Exorcist, 1973), or the remote Overlook Hotel in Colorado, with its bloody past and isolated winters, maintained by a lone caretaker (The Shining, 1980). Closer home, it could be a room in a government women’s hostel on the outskirts of Delhi, haunted by a ghost and steeped in everyday fears (Khauf, 2025).

In The Exorcist, while the central plot revolves around an exorcism within a single room, it is also the story of a mother willing to go to any lengths to save her daughter. In The Shining, though the Overlook Hotel becomes a sinister character in its own right, steeped in a violent past, the heart of the film lies in a man battling his own psychological demons—who ultimately succumbs to the hotel’s dark influence and turns against his family. In Khauf, a young woman from a smaller city in India, carrying the scars of a brutal sexual assault, comes to the capital in search of freedom, only to find that the suffocating male gaze offers none. She becomes easy prey for a ghost that haunts a hostel room, an evil spirit that feeds on her vulnerability.

It is through this lens—where horror emerges not just from the supernatural, but from the all-too-real fears rooted in our society, that I will be reviewing Khauf, perhaps one of the finest horror web series to come out of India in recent years.

The Story

Khauf centers around a young woman named Madhu (Monica Panwar), who escapes from Gwalior to be with her boyfriend in Delhi. Haunted by a traumatic past—she was brutally assaulted by a group of men—Madhu sees Delhi as a chance to leave those memories behind. But she soon realizes it’s not as easy as she hoped. The city’s constant male gaze feels like the ghost of her past, relentlessly following her.

Uncomfortable living in a flat shared by her boyfriend and his male friends, she moves to a hostel on the outskirts of the city. Only one room is available—the one that once belonged to a girl who reportedly died in an accident. The four other women on the floor harbor a dark secret. They are trapped by a sinister presence that won’t let them leave the hostel, and they believe the evil spirit resides in that very room. Fearing the spirit will possess Madhu and unleash terror on them all, they try to stop her from staying there.

But Madhu refuses to give in to their warnings. With no one else to turn to, the room is her only shot at survival.

Screenplay and Technical Aspects

Khauf weaves together multiple subplots that converge in the end. There’s Madhu’s central story, the individual backstories of the four hostel mates on her floor, and the mystery of the dead girl who once lived in her room. Alongside these, there’s the hostel warden’s friend—an alcoholic police officer, a woman who frequently visits the hostel to drink with the warden, while secretly searching for her missing son, whom she believes has fallen into the wrong hands. Adding to the mix is a mysterious hakim living in the dingy alleys of Old Delhi, who preys on the souls of vulnerable women to prolong his own life. All of these threads eventually tie into Madhu’s journey and play a crucial role in the climax.

As hinted earlier in my review, Khauf wouldn’t be half as terrifying without its real-life parallels. The series holds up a mirror to society in ways rarely seen in recent Indian storytelling, whether on OTT platforms or in theatres. It doesn’t rely on monologues or moralizing speeches. Instead, it quietly reveals the everyday reality of being a woman in Delhi—on buses, at workplaces, even in spaces presumed to be safe. Judgment, harassment, and constant surveillance are routine, and they carry consequences. This creates a toxic environment where crime festers.

The real-life monsters in Khauf far outweigh the supernatural ones. It’s this chilling parallel between the horrors of the real world and the supernatural that makes the show deeply unsettling, and at times, hard to watch.

That said, Khauf isn’t an edge-of-the-seat horror flick. It moves deliberately, simmering with tension, and landing its punches at the right moments. Some might call it a slow burn, but I never found it dull. The screenplay kept me anticipating something unexpected, and when those moments arrived, they were rewarding. Although, these aren’t your typical horror beats. But the series still delivers its share of jump scares, gore, and supernatural elements to keep horror fans engaged. Much of the credit goes to writer Smita Singh (Sacred Games, Raat Akeli Hai), cinematographer Pankaj Kumar (Tumbbad, Haider, Ship of Theseus), and production designer Nitin Zihani Choudhary (Tumbbad, Kalki 2898 AD).

The writing, for the most part, is engaging. While some critics have rightly called out the lore elements as unclear, these are rare missteps. Where Khauf truly shines is in the seamless blending of the real and the supernatural brought to life through striking imagery and meticulous execution. The sequencing of events and how they converge in the end is satisfying to watch.

The production design, in particular, sustains an atmosphere of dread even when scenes aren’t overtly grotesque. There’s a constant sense of gloom and impending danger—the hallmark of effective horror storytelling.

The Performances

Khauf wouldn’t be nearly as affecting without its stellar performances. The casting is pitch perfect. Apart from the menacing presence of Rajat Kapoor, a familiar face, the rest of the cast may not be household names, yet they carry the film with remarkable strength. Monica Panwar, as Madhu, delivers a standout performance, balancing vulnerability and quiet resilience with striking authenticity.

The supporting cast is equally compelling: Chum Darang as Svetlana, Geetanjali Kulkarni as Constable Ilu Mishra, Shalini Vatsa as the stern yet layered warden Gracie, Priyanka Setia as Rima, Rashmi Mann as Nikki, and Riya Shukla as Komal. Each of them brings depth and nuance to their roles, making the characters not only believable but deeply human.

Verdict

In an era where horror storytelling, whether on web or in theatres, often leans on tired tropes like jump scares, gore, folklore, and a parade of ghosts, goblins, witches, vampires, yakshas and yakshis, often diluted with humor or drowned in grotesquery, Khauf stands apart. It uses many of these familiar elements, yet tells an original, deeply human story, one that terrifies not because of what’s imagined, but because of how much it borrows from the real world.

It feels as if the true monsters of life have possessed the supernatural ones. And that’s what makes Khauf truly unsettling. It provokes thought, evokes empathy, and scares in equal measure.

For that, it absolutely deserves a watch.

Khauf is streaming on Amazon Prime Video in India.

IMDb rating: 7.6/10

My Rating: 4/5

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About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

The Sandman-Review | Netflix | A Brilliant Adaptation of a Classic that is not just made for its Ardent Fans

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan . 5 Min Read

To the unversed, a species that I belonged to as far as The Sandman is concerned, this new Netflix series might seem like a fantasy epic similar to The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Narnia. But such an assertion may not be fully correct. However, don’t get fooled into thinking that this is a Game of Thrones either! While Sandman’s universe boasts of gargoyles and other fantastic creatures, they deliciously exist only in the realm of where we spend one-third of our life—sleep. Thus, the concept and truths that this web series explores are as deep as our fabulous dreams and our worst nightmares.

The Sandman subverts the fantasy genre in more ways than one, in the end catering more to gothic horror fans than to fantasy fiction puritans. So there are many dark themes explored here with its fair share of blood and gore. But it also has an emotional depth that you don’t generally see in fantasy epics.

Based on the DC graphic novel series written by Neil Gaiman, published between 1989-1996, this screen adaptation was long awaited by its ardent fans. I don’t fall into that category, having discovered Gaiman’s writings only a year and a half ago. But ever since, his style of writing and his imagination have impressed me. He has a way of telling very true things in the most magical and unexpected ways. But I went into this series with little expectation since I am not a big fan of fantasy fiction. My apprehension―how was this adaptation going to appeal to an audience who knows nothing about the Sandman comics?

I was in for a pleasant surprise!

In recent memory, I don’t remember seeing a more precise and compelling opening to a series than this one. In just under three minutes, the concept, the world and the purpose of the story are unraveled.

I was hooked! At least for the first 6 episodes.

The hero, Morpheus, also known as Sandman or simply the Dream, is a god who controls the dreams of humans. We go into his realm to seek freedom and adventure and to face our fears and fantasies. He must control our dreams lest they consume and destroy us. But Morpheus is not a flawless god. He is vulnerable and often needs advice. He belongs to the family of the endless, whose members include desire, destiny, delirium, destruction, death and despair. Three of whom we meet in the first season. These eternal and universal forces have been given anthropomorphic personifications.

The story begins in 1916, when an occultist named Roderick Burgess invokes the god of death to revive his dead son, but mistakenly captures Morpheus. Unwilling to let go of the god he has erroneously taken captive; the Magus tries to seize his powers forcefully. He steals Morpheus’s tools in a bid to get richer. Thus, the lord of dreams is held captive for 100 yrs. When he finally manages to free himself, he realizes that without his tools; he isn’t as powerful as he used to be. So he goes in search of them, to restore balance in the waking world of humans whose dreams have gone berserk. Thus, begins an adventure through many magical worlds, including hell. We travel through a non-linear timeline spanning thousands of years to meet mythical characters like Lucifer and historical figures like Shakespeare. The scale is epic to the point of being overwhelming at times. But it remains for most parts engaging.

Season 1 adapts the first 2 volumes of the comic book series―Preludes and Nocturnes, and The Doll’s house. I found the first six episodes to be the most entertaining. Things move quickly and the themes are mostly dark. The much talked about fifth episode where the character John Dee puts his theory of truth and lies to the test, inside a diner using the staff and customers as guinea pigs, is where the writing is at its best. I am given to understand that the screenplay departs the furthest from the original in this episode. Critics of the graphic novel have said that Gaiman’s writing was the weakest here, where he subscribed to the horror tropes of the 80’s. I cannot comment on that, since I have not read the original, but I can say with certainty, that this contemporary adaptation made for some gripping cinema.

While the world and character building of the show are exemplary, adeptly supported by the CGI work, sound design and background score, the dialogues though did not sit well with me at all times. Especially in the later episodes where things get a bit verbose and sanctimonious. The darker characters have better lines than the virtuous ones. Furthermore, most characters are a shade of grey. There is no clear villain, except for Burgess, perhaps, and the truth is not monopolized only by the good guys.

From the little research that I have done, it was amply clear that while the screenplay writers (David S. Goyer, Allan Heinberg and Neil Gaiman) have been faithful to the original work; they weren’t imprisoned by it. The subtle changes that have been made were to better the original story or to contemporize it. The gender swapping of certain characters, for example, is not a trope but an attempt to give more life to the original characters. To an unassuming viewer like me, though, all of it came across as quite natural.

That brings us to the casting, which is another strong point of the web series. Tom Sturridge as Morpheus is brilliant, bringing the right amount of strength and vulnerability to his character. His physicality and voice were also apt for the role. Among, the supporting cast, I thought, Boyd Holbrook as the rogue nightmare Corinthian, Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer Morningstar and David Thewlis as John Dee were the most eye-catching. Mason Alexander makes a short, interesting appearance in this Season, as the gender fluid ‘desire’, evoking curiosity within the audience about the future of this character.

Considered as one of the most imaginative and intellectually stimulating comics ever made, The Sandman is one of those written materials which was thought to be unfilmable, much like The Life of Pi. It is a rare blend of mythology, history, horror and fantasy which gets the mind ticking. In the end, I think, for the fans the long wait has been worth it. The show has garnered rave reviews from critics and fans alike. As a relatively new fan of Mr. Gaiman and as someone who has not read the original work, I can only say that this Netflix series has all the ingredients to be a long running one. It is a brilliant adaptation of a classic that is not just made for its ardent fans.

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories. He is also an enthusiastic blogger and, on his website, www.whatsonsidsmind.com, he regularly puts out his essays, articles, travelogues and movie reviews.

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