It’s not every day that a beloved comic book universe sees both its main series and a promising spin-off come to a close in the same year. Yet, for fans of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman and its supernatural offshoot Dead Boy Detectives, that’s exactly what’s happened in 2025—a year marked by creative highs, unexpected cancellations, and a storm of controversy that’s left the fandom divided and reflective.
Netflix’s adaptation of The Sandman, developed by Allan Heinberg alongside Gaiman and David S. Goyer, arrived with much anticipation. The first season, praised for its faithfulness to the acclaimed DC/Vertigo comics, garnered a devoted following. But the recent release of season two, as reported by multiple outlets including Variety and independent reviewers, has been met with a mixed reception. Some fans lauded the meticulous adaptation, while others felt that what works on the comic page doesn’t always translate seamlessly to television. The debate over creative liberties versus fidelity to source material is hardly new, but it’s taken on fresh urgency as audiences grapple with the reality that this season would be the show’s last.
In a candid interview with Variety, showrunner Allan Heinberg explained that the decision to end The Sandman after its second season was made more than two years ago—long before the controversies that would later engulf its creator. Netflix, recognizing the show’s passionate fanbase, offered the production team a rare gift: a bonus episode to serve as a final farewell. The result was "Death: The High Cost of Living," released on August 1, 2025. Based on Gaiman’s one-shot comic, the episode centers on Death (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), who spends a day as a human every hundred years. She encounters Sexton Furnival (Colin Morgan), a young man struggling with suicidal thoughts, and helps him find meaning and hope. Heinberg described the episode as “a good night kiss to the audience before the show goes to bed,” emphasizing the show’s enduring themes of love, loss, and the value of life.
The choice to focus this final chapter on Death, rather than Dream, was both a creative and practical decision. As Heinberg told Variety, “When we discovered together that Season 2 would be our last season, Netflix very generously said, ‘Why don’t you do an additional episode? Like, take the 11 episodes you need to tell the story, and then we’ll give you one more.’” With limited time and resources, the team opted for a story that could be produced efficiently but would still resonate with fans. The resulting episode, co-written by Gaiman and Heinberg, drew on an earlier screenplay Gaiman had developed with Guillermo del Toro. Though some elements had to be updated—Death and Sexton were aged up from teenagers to adults in their 30s—the emotional core remained intact. “It felt like a sequel to Episode 6 of Season 1, where Dream and Death are just having a walk around London and we all love that episode very much,” Heinberg said.
But as The Sandman was preparing its graceful exit, its universe was expanding—albeit briefly. Dead Boy Detectives, developed by Steve Yockey, spun out of The Sandman mythos and onto Netflix screens. The show followed Edwin (George Rexstrew) and Charles (Jayden Revri), two ghosts who’ve eluded Death and now dedicate their afterlives to solving supernatural crimes. They’re joined by Crystal (Kassius Nelson), a living medium with a mysterious past, in the enchanted town of Port Townsend. Over eight episodes, the trio faces off against a cast of memorable antagonists: Esther Finch, a child-abducting witch; the Cat King, an anthropomorphic feline with a grudge; and the Night Nurse, tasked with corralling wayward souls.
Despite being a delightfully spooky adventure, and earning a 92% score on Rotten Tomatoes, Dead Boy Detectives was cancelled after just one season. Critics and fans alike praised the chemistry between the leads and the show’s deft blend of humor, horror, and heartfelt storytelling. The series didn’t shy away from heavy themes: Edwin’s struggle to come to terms with his sexuality, Charles’s trauma from his death by bullying, and Crystal’s search for identity after demonic possession all added depth to the supernatural hijinks. As Collider noted, "The way Edwin and Charles meet builds an unbreakable bond in their afterlife, as well as an endearing platonic relationship." The show’s ability to balance the inhuman with the all-too-human made its abrupt end sting all the more.
Yet, the fate of both shows cannot be separated from the shadow cast by allegations against Neil Gaiman himself. As reported on August 9, 2025, multiple women have accused Gaiman of sexual assault, leading to a significant backlash. Production on Good Omens season 3 was halted, and viewership of The Sandman season 2 plummeted as some fans chose to boycott the series. The controversy has reignited debates about whether it’s possible—or ethical—to separate art from its creator. Unlike the polarizing dispute over J.K. Rowling’s comments and the subsequent reaction to Hogwarts Legacy, the accusations against Gaiman have been described as “clear-cut,” leaving many viewers to make a conscious, personal decision to avoid his work. Despite this, the discourse has remained relatively civil, with most choosing quiet avoidance over public outrage.
For those who do tune in, the final moments of The Sandman and the single season of Dead Boy Detectives offer a bittersweet reminder of what made these stories special in the first place. Both shows, in their own ways, explore the boundaries between life and death, the supernatural and the mundane, and the bonds that tie us together—whether in this world or the next. As Heinberg reflected, “Even in the face of death, there’s so much joy and so much love and so much to appreciate about the time we spend here.”
In the end, the only mystery left unsolved is what might have been—had controversy not intervened, had Netflix given these stories more time, and had audiences felt free to embrace them without reservation. For now, fans are left with a legacy of compelling characters, unforgettable adventures, and the enduring question of how we reckon with the art—and the artists—that shape our world.
