In the final weeks of filming for season two of Netflix’s The Sandman, an adaptation of author Neil Gaiman’s dark comic book of the same name, a bombshell dropped. In the Tortoise Media podcast series Master, Gaiman – one of the most acclaimed, and formerly beloved, fiction writers of recent decades – was accused of sexual assault and abuse by five women.
Taking its title from the name that Gaiman would reportedly ask women to call him, the seven-episode series detailed numerous violent and graphic allegations against the author, which he claims took place within consensual BDSM relationships. In January, an additional four women accused Gaiman of sexual misconduct in a piece for New York magazine titled “There Is No Safe Word”. Gaiman’s accusers describe a consistent pattern of grooming, assault, coercion and non-consensual BDSM, also alleging that non-disclosure agreements (NDAs) were used to silence them. Gaiman has vehemently denied all claims of abuse.
The question of whether art can be separated from artist may seem tired, but it remains relevant for as long as wealthy and powerful creators are treated with relative impunity. While the harmful actions of an auteur may impact their reputation, it’s still rare that headlines lead to lasting legal or financial consequences. Despite around a decade of public discussions about “cancel culture”, you have to wonder what cancellation means in a world where Woody Allen has continued to make films for decades after being accused of (and denying) sexually molesting a child, and where Donald Trump, who two years ago was found liable for sexual abuse, is in the White House.
The conversation is complicated when – as in the case of The Sandman – there are degrees of separation between artists accused of harm and the art tied to their name. The Sandman’s co-creator David S Goyer said, on hearing of the allegations against Gaiman: “I know that Netflix, at the time, felt, ‘God, we spent two years making this thing. There’s all these actors and writers and directors involved that, if we didn’t air it, wouldn’t be fully compensated for it.’”
Goyer is right in that, had production on The Sandman been halted the moment the accusations went public, numerous actors and crewmembers would have lost out on money and work. But for Gaiman’s accusers, it would likely also be agonising and retraumatising to watch work associated with the writer being celebrated even after their allegations had been made public.
Often, we assess our engagement with artists accused of harm on a case-by-case basis – and some people make choices that are obviously mired in cognitive dissonance. I know that many people still listen to the music of Michael Jackson, for instance, despite the child abuse allegations that have haunted his legacy. Lots of people still listen to Kanye West, despite the musician’s descent into rank antisemitism. Within that group of people, however, there are some who would never deign to listen to his recent output, which includes an overtly pro-Nazi track – suggesting that, in some cases, the boundary has to do with the content of the art and its relation to the artist.
Sometimes, the fact that an artist is dead – and can no longer profit from people’s engagement with their art – can be used to morally justify a continued interest in it. There’s some degree of validity to this argument, but there are always consequences beneath the surface. In the second instalment of Leaving Neverland, which focuses on the allegations of child sexual abuse surrounding Jackson, the singer’s accusers argue that the Jackson estate, which still profits from projects such as MJ The Musical, has a vested interest in whitewashing Jackson’s image and discrediting the allegations made against him.
Without conflating different types of harm, a clear recent battleground for this artist-art conversation is HBO’s forthcoming Harry Potter TV series. The newly announced cast have faced staunch criticism from queer communities, with their involvement being seen as legitimising the political views of the series’ author, JK Rowling.
“Thanks to Rowling’s actions, Harry Potter as a franchise has become synonymous with transphobia,” wrote journalist Danika Ellis in a letter titled “Please, walk away from Harry Potter,” addressed to John Lithgow, who is cast to play Dumbledore. “Your name lends credence to the adaptation and, by extension, it helps to grow JK Rowling’s platform to further her crusade against trans people’s rights,” she added.
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As someone who has long believed in the power of boycotts, I find that a crucial question is where the money goes. In Potter’s case, Forbes estimates that Rowling, who has been “very involved” in the HBO show thus far in an executive producing role, has made more than $80m (£59m) annually from sales of books and Potterverse brand extensions in the years since she began posting about transgender rights. The author has also publicly spoken about donating money to legal efforts seeking to restrict trans rights. Buying a ticket to Harry Potter World or streaming the forthcoming show is certainly different from dusting off an old Philosopher’s Stone DVD at Christmas – one of those decisions actively contributes towards Rowling’s annual paycheck.
The ubiquity of this issue has only increased as struggling film, TV and publishing industries rely more and more on recycling intellectual property in the form of spin-offs, adaptations, sequels and reboots. Part of the problem with reaching so greedily into the past for inspiration is that the past is full of skeletons. The number of popular media franchises free from these ethical questions seems to shrink by the year.
The forthcoming Buffy the Vampire Slayer reboot is seemingly going ahead without the involvement of Joss Whedon – the showrunner at the centre of a historical misconduct controversy – but the series will still be based on his characters. His fingerprints cannot be wiped from it entirely, yet there are few calls from within the Buffy fanbase to shun the new version.
While it’s currently unclear whether Gaiman will personally make royalties from The Sandman, we do know that profit-focused streamers and producers interpret our clicks and ticket purchases as a “vote” for the kind of cultural production we want to see in the future. We vote with our time and attention – ethically, as well as financially. So, if you don’t want to see any more Harry Potter spin-offs, you do actually have to stop watching them.
Following this logic, I myself try my best not to stream, buy tickets to, or purchase copies of, cultural products with financial ties to people that I believe to have perpetrated harm. While The Sandman’s second series was supposedly always going to be its last, a drop in viewing figures would still send a message that allegations like those made towards Gaiman matter to audiences. The allegations may have placed the series in an impossible situation, but for us, as viewers, it’s far from an impossible decision.
