Ed Archie NoiseCat grapples with the shocking truth of his secretive birth at St. Joseph's Mission Indian residential school.Emily Kassie/Supplied
- Sugarcane
- Directed by Julian Brave NoiseCat and Emily Kassie
- Classification PG; 107 minutes
- Opens in select theatres Aug. 9
Critic’s Pick
Early on in Sugarcane, a Sundance prize-winning documentary, we see Williams Lake First Nation Chief Willie Sellars racing to his office. He’s about to go live on CTV News to discuss potential unmarked graves at St. Joseph’s Mission. The residential school located near the Sugarcane reservation in British Columbia operated for nearly a century, haunted by allegations of physical and sexual abuse, before shutting down in 1981.
You’re likely familiar with the interview Sellars gives. If not, you saw the headlines when unmarked graves in B.C. residential schools were discovered in 2021, validating a history of horrifying abuse that had been whispered aloud for decades. Statements from politicians followed, which were rarely tethered to reconciliatory action. And then there were the trolling comments from Canadians who, instead of grappling with history, would rather victim-blame and keep up this country’s tradition of denialism.
Sugarcane, a quietly infuriating documentary, shows us what that story looks like from the perspective of those directly affected by that history, for whom it’s not just a story.
Co-directors Julian Brave NoiseCat and Emily Kassie approach this painful conversation with the sensitivity and empathy it’s rarely afforded, and their film shows how it is almost impossible to adequately speak to this trauma.
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Many of the St. Joseph’s Mission survivors who appear in the film struggle to dredge up memories that they spent their lives burying out of fear and shame. They search for the words to express their pain, while watching the country that’s responsible fumble with its apologies.
Among them is NoiseCat’s own father, Ed NoiseCat – an artist with a bohemian aesthetic that he clearly passed on to his son – who lays bare their experience with intergenerational trauma. Ed, it is discovered, narrowly escaped an incinerator at St. Joseph’s as a newborn. He is the sole known survivor of an unspeakable crime, part of a pattern that doesn’t just incriminate a few bad apples at St. Joseph’s, but the entire residential school system.
Julian Brave NoiseCat and his father Ed Archie NoiseCat look down at the Williams Lake Stampede from the top of 'Indian Hill' on their roadtrip back to St. Joseph's Mission, where Ed was born.Emily Kassie/Supplied
Sugarcane uncovers that story and its far-reaching implications, delicately and with patience, marrying a clear-eyed investigative approach, anchored by community advocate Charlene Belleau and archaeologist Whitey Spearing, with devastating intimate touches. Belleau and Spearing collect testimony from survivors, sift through records and search for evidence at the sites where ground-penetrating radar suggests unmarked graves exist. They try to keep their own emotions at bay while revealing the full extent of the crimes, and how far and wide complicity goes. Their composure cracks, along with ours, when they read children’s names and words of hope scratched into the wood in a barn at St. Joseph’s. Is it vandalism? Or is that the only record that these children even existed?
As Belleau and Spearing diligently continue their work, their frustration grows. Few directly involved with committing and hiding the abuses at St. Joseph’s are still around to be held responsible.
Not that they believe responsibility only falls on those who were present. They, as well as others who appear in the film, are trying to figure out what accountability would look like – a hard thing to imagine when just getting Canadians to acknowledge that these crimes happened is a struggle.
We feel that disillusionment especially when former Williams Lake Chief Rick Gilbert visits the Vatican. Gilbert, who passed after filming, is a devout Catholic. His wife explains that Jesus is not to blame for his experience at St. Joseph’s.
Gilbert is part of the delegation that travelled to bear witness when the Pope offered his apology to Indigenous communities in April, 2022, a performative ritual that bears little or no sacrifice or commitment to make amends on the Vatican’s part. Watching this unfold really makes me believe all that religious business about forgiveness isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.
During his visit in Rome, Gilbert meets with Louis Lougen, the Superior General at The Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, the sect in charge of residential schools. Gilbert, keeping composed as his eyes well up with tears, speaks frankly about a truth that he kept buried for decades: He, his mother and his grandmother were abused in residential school. There is a long breathtaking silence, before the priest says, “Sorry.” It is the silence that speaks volumes.