Directors: Julian Brave NoiseCat and Emily Kassie
Stars: Julian Brave NoiseCat, Willie Sellars, Charlene Belleau, Ed Archie Noisecat, and Chief Willie Sellars
Synopsis: An investigation into abuse and missing children at an Indian residential school sparks a reckoning on the nearby Sugarcane Reserve.
Julian Brave NoiseCat and Emily Kassie’s masterful Sugarcane could ostensibly be (and has been) called a true crime documentary, but that feels far too trite a distinguisher for a film as deep and considerate as it is. Of course, it does focus on and exist because of crimes committed, specifically by the Catholic Church with Indigenous families as their victims. But the film focuses its attention on the granular details, the shared pain by those living in a community that has been violated and ravaged by figures that they should have been able to trust, both because they were instructed to and because of the symbolic expectations of religious figures.
Sugarcane lacks the presence of well-tailored investigators and historically-trained talking heads; it eschews the case-to-investigation-to-truth structure that so many lesser documentaries tend to follow blindly, almost as though there is only one formula that allows a mystery to be solved on film. Perhaps that’s because the mystery here isn’t so much “Who killed who?” or “Why?”, but “How do we move forward knowing what was done to us in the past?”
That question isn’t answered in Sugarcane, at least not outright. No one, not even Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau, manages to approach a podium with concrete conclusions as to how old, deep wounds can be healed. But a documentary like the one that NoiseCat – who also serves as one of the film’s main subjects – and Kassie have made is a start. Surely you’ve heard something similar before, that “Film A” or “Documentary B” is the first step toward achieving justice for a people. But one thing is certain: You’ve never heard this type of message be told with such certainty as Sugarcane manages to achieve.
NoiseCat and Kassie’s work began when hundreds of unmarked graves were found on the grounds of St. Joseph’s Mission, a residential Catholic school near the Sugarcane reserve – part of the Williams Lake First Nation (commonly referred to as “Sugarcane”) of the Secwépemc Nation – that Indigenous children were once forced to attend by the Canadian government. Their placement began in 1894, when the government moved to “solve [its] Indian problem.” For what was almost a century, reports of missing students were ignored, as were allegations of abuse, rape, and torture made by children from the school and their families. Among the school’s survivors are NoiseCat’s father, Ed, and his grandmother; and NoiseCat spends part of the documentary attempting to learn the truth about their experiences, a journey that is evidently marred with anguish. During one of their early conversations, NoiseCat’s grandmother tells him that the school tried to pull the student’s native language out of them in favor of English. When he presses for more, she chokes up, unable to continue.
Furthermore, NoiseCat and his father, Ed, share a complicated history. While they are now in contact, Ed abandoned his son at a young age due to intense addiction and depression. Near the end of the film, as father and son recount the ups and downs of their relationship through tears, Ed shouts, “I didn’t leave you, son,” almost as though he’s trying to convince Julian that there was no other way to escape the darkness and the trauma of his then-present; Julian was merely abandoned in the process, not directly. It’s a crushing moment in a film chock-full of them, yet it’s also another profound example of how the tribulations of one’s past can help pave the way for another’s future.
Sugarcane’s other crucial narrative threads follow Rick Gilbert, a former chief of the Williams Lake First Nation who struggles to grapple with the crimes committed within his community, particularly due to his devout Catholicism; Charlene Belleau and Whitney Spearing, two investigators who work with the nation’s people to uncover the truth about what happened at St. Joseph’s, only without a forceful hand that might otherwise come from an outside, governmental operation; and the Nation’s current Chief, Willie Sellars, whose work with the aforementioned prime minister helped to institute the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, an annual Canadian holiday that recognizes those affected by the actions of the Church, the government, and the schools they built. While these subjects hardly get short shrift from the filmmakers, it’s fair to note that all three likely could have been explored more deeply. The intimacy dedicated to everyone whose face appears on screen never falters, though there’s a furious, nagging feeling that an expansive docuseries may have served their stories more effectively. Heck, a slightly longer film could’ve done the trick.
And yet, this being a film is the most important thing, as the story within is neither something to be binged through, nor something worthy of endless detours, reliance on archival footage, et al. Sugarcane is more urgent than any other work to hit screens so far this year, and impressively, it’s not one that feels the need to over-bang its principle drums in order to make note of the film’s import. It is so sophisticated, so beautiful despite its darkness – thanks in part to Kassie and Christopher LaMarca’s cinematography, as well as Mali Obomsawin’s stunning score – that it’s fair to assume its co-directors would be far from invasive no matter how involved they were in the community on which they’re focused. “Poetic” might be the best descriptor, actually, as long as you’re willing to acknowledge tragedy as poetry. And you should, for often what is looming on the other side of the most tragic tales is a glimmer of hope, something the members of the Williams Lake First Nation are becoming more familiar with as time goes by. If nothing else, that’s a start.
