Sugarcane deftly chronicles genocide-based trauma reverberating into the present

As a passionate advocate for truth and justice, I find “Sugarcane” to be a profound and poignant documentary that resonates deeply with my own experiences and beliefs. The film masterfully weaves together the past and present, offering a raw and unfiltered glimpse into the lives of Indigenous Canadians grappling with the lasting effects of residential schools.

Canada’s residential school system for Indigenous children aimed to “reform” them by eliminating any connection to their ancestry. This objective was strikingly similar to American Indian boarding schools and other institutions worldwide. The treatment meted out in these Canadian schools was inhumane, cruel, and resulted in the deaths and abuse of those who were compelled to attend. The atrocities committed within these walls do not fade with their closure. The trauma inflicted continues to echo into the present. The systemic devaluation of Indigenous people, which these institutions perpetuated, still shapes Western societies today. A long-standing institution labeled as “cultural genocide” does not simply disappear.

The documentary titled “Sugarcane” delves into a range of viewpoints from the Williams Lake First Nation, dealing with the long-term impacts of these educational institutions. One narrative focuses on the directors, Julian Brave NoiseCat (also directed by Emily Kassie), as they seek to uncover the past from his father, Ed, who attended one of these schools. Other parts show individuals searching for remains and undiscovered graves where these schools once existed. Additionally, there’s Rick, a person who continues to adhere strongly to Catholic faith (many of these schools were also Catholic institutions). His life is marked by past traumas that haunt him constantly. Yet, he has devoted his life to understanding the religious context of his youthful turmoil. Rick embodies the complex characters central to “Sugarcane“.

In the series Sugarcane, occasionally, there are black-and-white snippets from the 1962 documentary The Eyes of Children that interrupt the contemporary footage. These clips show peaceful scenes of Indigenous children at Catholic schools. However, this portrayal of tranquility is misleading to white audiences, as it distorts the true reality of those institutions. These segments appear unexpectedly and often come with little or no sound. The images are eerily silent, mirroring the suppression of Indigenous lives within these institutions.

In the TV show Sugarcane, it frequently happens that old events blend with current ones, as seen in NoiseCat and Kassie’s most striking example. This example features a thoughtful Rick playing “Silent Night” on the radio, which unexpectedly transitions into historical footage of a tragic school Christmas morning. The melody of “Silent Night” continues to play during this flashback, serving as an auditory connection between these two time periods. No words or captions are used to explicitly link these sequences, allowing the audience to make the connection themselves.

As a captivated viewer, I find myself intrigued by the seamless yet mysterious transition between the past and present in the Sugarcane sequence. Could these archival clips be embodying Rick’s thoughts? Or is the repeated playing of “Silent Night” stirring intense recollections of his past? Might the song’s recurrence throughout different time periods mirror the enduring impact of religious trauma? This sequence, in its thought-provoking ambiguity, beautifully showcases how Sugarcane masterfully interweaves past footage. The strategic insertion of these segments offers a profound insight into contemporary human struggles and their psychological turmoil.

In a profoundly empathetic manner, the filmmaking style of the documentary titled “Sugarcane” is heavily influenced by humanistic principles. Unlike typical documentaries, it eschews polished interview segments and guided narration to present an authentic portrayal of Indigenous Canadian history. Instead, directors NoiseCat and Kassie opt to let their camera capture the central subjects of “Sugarcane“. Scenes include casual conversations with individuals like Rick as he sorts through old trinkets, and a distant recording of NoiseCat’s conversation with his grandmother during a local community event. Subtitles are used to make their dialogue clear amidst the ambient noise.

In most cases, people on camera seem unaware they’re being filmed, giving the impression that we’re watching genuine, unscripted moments from life. This production, unlike sugarcane, doesn’t stage managed scenes of existence; instead, it captures reality as it happens.

As a mental health professional with years of experience working with individuals grappling with trauma, I strongly believe that portraying characters in media who are dealing with trauma in a realistic and nuanced manner is crucial for promoting understanding and empathy. The lighter moments in films like the road trip scene between NoiseCat and his father in “Sugarcane” serve to humanize these characters and remind us that while trauma can be overwhelming, it doesn’t define their entire lives. It’s important to remember that people with trauma still have moments of joy, laughter, and levity, and these moments should not be overlooked or dismissed. Instead, they provide a glimpse into the complexities of human emotions and serve as a reminder that people are more than just their traumas. By portraying characters in this way, films like “Sugarcane” can help break down stereotypes and foster greater compassion for those struggling with trauma in real life.

As a devoted fan, I find myself deeply moved by the intricate subtleties that permeate scenes within “Sugarcane.” For instance, the heartwarming moment when Rick gleams with joy as he shares his Venetian trinkets with his wife over Zoom, these instances serve as a powerful counterpoint to the oppressive history of residential schools. These institutions were designed to inflict pain and suffering on Indigenous people; their very existence was a brutal reminder of the disposability that our ancestors were made to feel. The fact that survivors like Ed and Rick are still here, experiencing such vibrant joy, is nothing short of revolutionary. Survival itself can be seen as an act of rebellion, as can finding and cherishing moments of pure, unbridled happiness. One of the most commendable aspects of “Sugarcane” is its commitment to portraying nuanced depictions of Indigenous life, a trait that makes it truly special.

The film, Sugarcane, doesn’t focus on resolving issues or providing simple solutions. Instead, it shows that the search for unidentified graves remains ongoing at its conclusion. Internet bullies attempt to shift blame for the genocide onto the residents of Sugarcane, while prominent figures like Pope Francis offer only superficial condolences and acknowledgment of these atrocities without taking more substantial actions to address their roots. Rich notes that apologies are common but never lead to real change. NoiseCat and Kassie expose the harsh truth about how privileged classes handle genocide aftermath: they often clean up the past neatly, attributing the horrors to a few bad individuals. This allows bystanders and descendants of perpetrators to distance themselves from the pain experienced by people like Ed and Rick, who cannot escape their anguish.

Sugarcane’s filmmaking technique subtly highlights the chilling normalization of horror in everyday life. Yet, it also brings humanity to Indigenous lives that were intended to be erased by those institutions. For instance, in their work, NoiseCat and Kassie allow raw footage of a survivor expressing her emotions naturally without intrusive music or commentary, keeping the focus on her narrative and feelings. A woman spectator gently advises the survivor, “It’s okay to cry,” and offers comfort with, “Let’s just hold each other.” Skillfully capturing this tender moment underscores the powerful human touch in Sugarcane’s storytelling.

2024-08-07 16:15

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