- This essay will inevitably contain spoilers!
'LEGACY FOR DOOMED YOUTH'- A REVIEW OF 'SUGAR'
(2004)
- An essay by Richard Harrison (2005)
An abridged version of this article first appeared in the February 2008
issue of SCOPE- The
Online Journal of Film Studies
The tragically premature death of Andre Noble on 30th July 2004 did not
exactly set the cinematic woods on fire. The celluloid world, though,
has always been used to the varied nature of star destinies- those who
die young, those who live long and those who, as Neil Young- a Canadian
like Noble- would say, simply fade away. That Andre Noble was not
allowed to either grow old or fade away is something to be deeply
lamented, a reminder that being young does not render you immortal from
the very arbitrariness of death.
Of those who have passed on before their time, some died a Hollywood
style death- a car accident, a shooting, or, if you were Peg Entwistle,
the ultimate cinematic suicide- a jump from the famous ‘Hollywood’sign
in the California hills. Andre Noble’s short life did not end in any of
these dramatic ways, but resulted from aconitine poisoning from
ingesting the sap of monkshood, a deadly wild flower, in Newfoundland,
very close to where he was raised. He was just 25 years old.
Like James Dean almost 50 years earlier, Andre Noble was an actor
struck down in the very budding flower of youth. Also like Dean,
posterity has given us a final film that will define Andre Noble,
encourage conjecture about his future and assure him of cinematic
immortality. Like Peter Pan, Andre Noble will not grow old. He will not
look haggard and age-worn, suffer the ignominy of drug busts, the
tabloid interest in failed relationships or be forced to accept bit
parts in mediocre films starring the current Hollywood young blood.
Andre Noble’s performance in Sugar (the final film role per se
before his death) will be how he is remembered, not just playing a
character but living it- his ardent sincerity proving a compelling
reminder of not only how powerful a medium film can be, but also
reminding the audience of his beauty, now destined to shine forever in
Eternity.
A powerful film that, once seen, is not forgotten, Sugar was
originally shot on Mini-DV and directed by John Palmer (whose only
other film as director, Me, was made back in 1975). The title
'Sugar' connotes a paradox of sweetness and addiction, all too apt when
the film as a whole is considered, for it presents an unusual take on
both the ‘teen film’and its sub-generic offspring as well as a wider
consideration of cinematic spectatorship in the turmoil of the
relationships undergone by its characters.
In Sugar, Andre Noble plays Cliff, a teenager on the verge of
manhood who is still trying to discover who he really is.
Interestingly, Noble was 24 when Sugar started filming, the
same age as James Dean when he starred in Rebel Without A Cause,
also significantly older in real-life than his on-screen character, in
Dean’s case Jim Stark).
The opening credits present roughly cut paper snippets of the cast list
with a background of black and white images of body parts of both sexes
accompanied by electronic music. The first live action we see is a
heterosexual couple sitting under a tree. They are kissing eagerly-
that they are in close up prevents us from situating them in the film’s
context, for it would perhaps normally be assumed that the couple will
play some part in the film that is to follow. The fact that they do not
sets up the way Sugar plays with traditional notions of film
spectatorship. The credits also introduce the two actors who will be,
ultimately, the protagonists of Sugar: Brendan Fehr
(accompanied by his arm with the ‘J.D.’tattoo facing the camera) and
Andre Noble (accompanied by his shirtless torso in reclining position).
Thus, we already have a superficial introduction to our two leads which
situates our spectatorship in regard to their representation, a facet Sugar
plays with throughout.
The heterosexual couple’s kissing continues, and it is revealed that
they are being watched by Cliff (and, by extension, us, the audience,
in an act of voyeurism). Our first view of Cliff himself is an
unconventional one, the camera positioned just behind his right
shoulder as he watches the couple kiss. As he watches, Cliff sucks on a
strand of what appears to be liquorice, and the music becomes slower,
its gentle rhythmical thudding being akin to a heartbeat as the
sensuality of the moment is heightened by a shot change to a sideways
close up of Cliff’s provocative sucking. Then, as the
‘heartbeats’continue, Palmer changes the shot once more and we see
Cliff pleasuring himself in long shot before the director’s name
appears with the same font and background as before. This complex
introduction to the film does a number of things, but its main purpose
is to introduce us to Cliff whilst confronting the issue of film
spectatorship and generic expectations which are effectively challenged
in Sugar as a whole.
The film proper opens at Cliff’s 18th birthday party, his innocent
domesticity being symbolised by the candles on his cake, his desire to
‘wash his hands’before eating, and the presence of his close (but
fatherless) family: Mother, Gran and precocious sister Cookie. The
family is not, however, at home, but in a restaurant. Thus, the initial
framing of the group includes a woman in the foreground who is not with
them but happens to be there- a precursor of the documentary-like style
the film draws on throughout.
Cliff's family is visually introduced in a highly effective manner-
Madge (Cliff’s Mother) is wearing a pointed party hat and determined to
make a success of the occasion; Gran wears a bright orange top and a
look of proud optimism; Cookie looks like any other young girl as she
grabs a brightly decorated gingerbread rabbit shouting the one word
‘sugar!’(referencing back to the film’s title in her yearn for its
addictive sweetness) whereas Cliff himself looks embarrassed and
withdrawn. As well as setting up some important characters in the film,
the opening of Sugar introduces two key themes and ideas.
Firstly, the concept of identity appears in the family unit- it is a
seemingly happy, unified group despite Cliff’s reluctance to be
sociable. This idea morphs into a linked theme (that of appearance and
reality) which is also present here. Secondly, there is a permeable
sense of irony (especially in Madge’s criticism of her family: ‘I don’t
know why you people are so afraid of any expression of emotion or
affection’which is closely followed by Cookie’s precocious comment
‘emotions are unnecessary’), although much of this irony is only
detectable under post-filmic analysis.
In this early section of Sugar there is also the highly
parsimonious use of mise-en-scene to convey Cliff’s subjectivity- he
becomes our main focus character and we are encouraged to share his
experiences as he undergoes them- therefore closely aligning our
spectatorship to Cliff and, as result, Andre Noble himself.
In common with the film’s theme of identity, Cliff is presented as an
archetypal teenager in his listless behaviour whilst Madge delivers a
maternal ‘pep talk’and presents her son with a skateboard- an object he
clearly feels he doesn’t need.
However, despite Cliff’s teen angst, he finds solace in the skateboard-
he clasps it as if it were a valuable comfort-blanket against his
induction into the adult world his Mother outlined, then uses it to go
‘downtown’in search of the vicarious thrills the perpetually precocious
Cookie encourages him to seek. (Again, there is a disturbing irony in
Cookie’s choice of presents for her brother- vodka, a joint,
contraceptives and the message ‘GO GET SEX’). With side tracking shots
that follow Cliff on his skateboard oscillating with point-of-view
shots aboard, Sugar could well be about any typical teenager
dressed in jacket and jeans off to see friends on the night of his 18th
birthday. In fact, Cliff is a protected teenager- a na’ve boy whose
life experiences have been few, and this wide-eyed, baby-faced
innocence is effortlessly conveyed by Andre Noble.
Cliff’s first view of Butch is the latter urinating against a lattice
wire fence, a sight that fills him with evident overwhelming curiosity
and a certain admiring fascination, so mesmeric that Cliff stumbles
into a group of dustbins. The industrial, urban music that accompanies
the duo’s first encounter is light years away from the frothy melodies
usually associated with a romantic meeting but the well-composed
close-ups link both Cliff and Butch, Cliff’s face being bathed in
chiaroscuro light, the lattice-work of the fence casting bars on his
face which possibly hint that he is becoming trapped in a world that is
alien to him.
Thus, mise-en-scene is used to highlight the beauties of Cliff (as
character) and consequently Andre Noble (as actor)- the use of light
bringing out his flesh tones and dark puppy-dog eyes.
Cliff and Butch leave the scene together, but their brief grope in a
dark doorway is the antithesis of screen romance (although perhaps
truer to life, again linking to the documentary aspect of Palmer’s
film) before Butch dons his jacket, symbolising that their relationship
is, for the moment, at an end. Appearance or reality is also ironically
marked in this section of the film, as Butch lives up to his manly name
in his sleeveless top, muscles, chain and tattoos but is a hustler with
a penchant for gay relationships. Cliff’s greater amount of
conservative clothing is significant, for not only does it demarcate
his sheltered upbringing but its gradual diminishing marks his
transition from withdrawn heterosexual teenager to self-controlled,
liberated young man. In fact, it is partly this gradual (and eminently
credible) dissolution of what Cliff was to what Cliff is that makes Sugar
such a constantly absorbing film- this is illustrated in the
camaraderie between Cliff and the other male hustlers, showing the
teenager’s growing confidence in his new experiences.
In the limousine, with the other hustlers keen to mark Steve’s birthday
with a strip, Cliff participates, seemingly revelling in being the
centre of an admiring crowd. With his shyness disappearing, Cliff
flirts with a pregnant girl in the seedy (and ironically named)
Paradise Club but clearly still has an awareness of his
responsibilities (he calls home to assure Madge that he is all right).
The visit he then pays to the bathroom introduces him to the commercial
side of the relationships he has seen, and he looks na’ve- the man has
suddenly become the boy again.
Arguably the most important sequence in Sugar occurs soon after
sunset, in Butch’s apartment. Before it commences, Cliff’s curious
nature is apparent in his exploration of the rooms, and his search for
the very essence of Butch (sniffing his underwear and trying on his
jacket). Then, the Cliff/Butch relationship becomes tangibly closer as
they share a shower together- Cliff’s white nightwear symbolising his
innocence and virginity whilst Butch’s darker clothing hints at a less
savoury side to his character.
The next scene, the most iconic in the entire film, opens with a
shirtless Butch alone on the bed. Cliff asks him ‘do you want me to
sleep on the floor?’but Butch does not, and offers Cliff a place in the
bed beside him. As Cliff lies down, and the two shirtless bodies are
placed together, they are bathed in an aesthetic brightness of light.
Combined with a static camera, a sense of peace and stability is
created which is broken by Butch telling Cliff ‘I can’t give you sex
today’, but Cliff’s reply ‘that’s okay’placates Butch and places both
young men at their ease, although Cliff still looks a little
discomforted at the close proximity to another body, especially a male
one. ‘I’ve never had sex with a guy before’well, with anybody’Cliff
mutters, and Butch seems to respond positively to this naivety and
openness, although he turns away from Cliff to sleep. Disconcerted,
Cliff places a nervously gentle kiss on Butch’s back and the pair go to
sleep, the scene fading to black. The scene is so important for it lays
bare the pair’s relationship- Butch regards it in materialistic terms,
whilst Cliff is overcome by an admiring sense of awe mingled with
trepidation.
The key sequence continues as the two wake and prepare for the day
ahead. Cliff’s self-consciousness is strongly apparent in his getting
dressed sat on the bed, and contrasts Butch’s freedom and confidence in
his body. As Cliff admires Butch’s tattoo, and runs his finger over it
where Butch’s stomach and groin converge, a sensual beauty to their
relationship (that was initiated in bed), again emerges. Once more,
Palmer uses close-ups between Cliff and Butch to underscore their
growing relationship even though Butch’s ‘we should hang out’seems to
Cliff a purely platonic (therefore less serious and consequently
desirable) suggestion of compromise. In common with his earlier
awareness of domestic protocol, it is Cliff that suggests in
businesslike fashion ‘breakfast’.
In the kitchen, the shirtless pair sit opposite each other and eat
cornflakes. The banal task of eating the most banal cereal turns,
though, into a display of ecstasy which is almost unbearable in its
depth as the pair gradually ‘jack off’ together. The scene is an
incredible one of physical and emotional intensity unrivalled by many
others in the history of cinema, and the two leads become not merely
part of their roles but subsumed within them. Mere words cannot do the
scene justice- the crudeness implied by the sudden shift from eating
the cornflakes to ‘jacking-off’is not what Sugar presents.
Instead, the event becomes organic, poetic and entirely plausible- a
major strength of the film is its refusal to skirt the very
down-to-earth, instinctive parts of a relationship, and this scene is a
spontaneous one of the greatest merit.
After this extraordinary breakfast scene, Cliff takes Butch home to
meet his Mother. There, Butch helps Cookie to paint whilst Cliff
(wearing a white T-Shirt, another symbol of his innocence) stands by
and enjoys the camaraderie of the quasi-family unit, as Butch has now
taken on the mantle of master of the house and Cliff has become the
surrogate younger son. The concept of changing identity recurs in the
next section of the film where Butch lies to Madge that he is ‘a
stock-boy at K-Mart’and that he met Cliff whilst working there. The
whole story (involving an ‘I Love Lucy’game, referencing a symbol of
ardent mainstream Americana), is a fabrication, and Cliff is a party to
the deception and energetically ‘plays up’to Butch’s fantasy scenario.
(This is contrasted in the scene later in Sugar when Butch and
Cliff go to see the middle-aged man and a new scenario is invented,
which Cliff is far less willing to be a part of).
As they sit around the table, the family unit defined, Cliff looks
adoringly at Butch who, as someone who has a steady job (and is
therefore a breadwinner), has so firmly taken on the paternal role in
Cliff’s family. The idea of appearance and reality, never far from the
film’s events, is present here too however, as Madge swiftly realises
that Butch does drugs and lets her maternal instincts emerge once more
in adding a cautionary note- Butch is not what he appears to be, and
she is both intrigued and slightly wary as a result.
The concept of irony in Sugar occurs when Butch simulates death
throes for Cookie’s amusement- the dramatic and public nature of this
is all too poignantly contrasted with Butch’s eventual demise, at which
no one other than he is present.
This masquerade permeates into the idea of identity, and continues in
the sequence where Cliff admits Butch’s true credentials to Madge:
‘he’s a hustler’, which ushers forth yet more of Madge’s maternal
instincts. Their conversation seems to suggest that Cliff accepts the
note of caution Madge requests, but the next sequence (in Butch’s flat,
where Stanley arrives for his sado-masochistic cleaning job) refutes
this as Cliff’s curiosity leads to him becoming an active participant.
The sequence once more acts as a reminder of Cliff’s childlike
innocence, as he is playing a computer game as Stanley arrives and
later asks ‘really?’incredulously when Stanley tells him why he makes
so many deliberate mistakes in the task of washing the dishes. However,
there is also a philosophical side to Cliff, showing that his
experiences have turned into a learning curve: ‘maybe if it makes you
happy that’s okay’, which is, in essence, what the whole film is about
and evidence that his words are a result of Cliff filtering the variety
of new experiences he is having and developing a cognitive response to
them.
As Stanley leaves, having inducted Cliff into the ritualistic
sado-masochistic relationship the former usually has with Butch, Cliff
is tearfully happy- in his terms, at least, the morning with Stanley
was very much okay.
In common with the entire film, Palmer then contrasts this civilised
meeting with Butch’s visit to Darlene in the next sequence (which Cliff
later refers to as ‘an act of compassion’). Darlene is overweight and
disabled, and pays to realise her fantasy of having a nubile young man
around her to indulge her whims. Indeed, her perversion extends to
photographing Butch naked, his response being to photograph her too.
Ironically, Butch points the camera directly at us, as if we were the
subject of his observation. This alters our position of spectatorship,
as we have been intrigued and amused by Cliff and Stanley’s antics but
we are then drawn up to a chastening situation of a repulsive woman
sweating and crying out pleasurably at sex with Butch, the partner of
our focus of attention, Cliff. From being mere observers of the
harmless nature of Cliff and Stanley’s sado-masochism, we have become
(through the photograph) implicated in the sordidly mercenary fandango
that is Butch and Darlene’s ‘session’together- we are deliberately
brought into this action against our wishes. The effect of the change
on our spectatorship is to exacerbate the next sequence, which finds
Butch and Cliff together once more, and enable it to attain poetic
heights.
With the very Transatlantic noise of cicadas, and a dog barking
somewhere in the distance, Butch and Cliff enjoy each others nocturnal
company (and a brief acid trip) in a striking scene that incorporates
purely ambient sound. Butch’s jacket is open to show his chest, Cliff
is fully topless and lies on a very brightly coloured sofa in an
attitude of pure relaxation. The slow editing works in conjunction with
the framing to ensure the tranquil pace, Cliff and Butch being nearly
always framed together. Even when they are not, slow pans connect the
two effortlessly, showing their union and closeness as they lie there,
recalling the bed scene earlier in the film and its peacefulness. When
the photograph of Darlene is produced (she covered her face but not her
body, an ironic comment on those that look for superficial thrills with
no concern for identity), Cliff tells Butch in quiet admiration ‘you
are the coolest fucking guy’, but Butch refutes this praise with ‘don’t
be gay’. But, even after this riposte, Cliff returns to the fray and
tells Butch in all sincerity ‘you did somethin’good’. It is then, with
the light shining on Cliff’s torso and Butch reflecting on his
‘session’with Darlene, that they slowly kiss- the instinctiveness of
the action showing that their relationship has reached a zenith of
affectionate tenderness- the kiss is not rushed, hasty or superficial
but loving, calm and sensual, the fade to black as they hold hands
fixing a positive note in our minds which replaces the base
commercialism of the Darlene/Butch relationship. It is the relaxed-
almost timeless- nature of the Cliff/Butch relationship that is most
evident in this sequence, with both Cliff and Butch using their body
language and sexuality to invest the scene with an erotic charge
despite the absence of wild passion. This is true love- thoughtful,
considered, sincere.
The next day Cliff’s juvenile innocence in Sugar emerges yet
again, Palmer showing us that, despite his experiences, Cliff is still
not yet a man even though he has reached the landmark age of 18. Cliff
once more looks up to Butch in admiration (his ‘J.D.’tattoo is
identical to that of Butch) yet behaves like Butch’s younger brother
when the pair visit the middle-aged man after walking through a
neon-dominated multi-storey car-park. This sequence is important to the
film as a whole, as it marks the continuation of the theme of identity
yet also the beginnings of the dissolution of the Cliff/Butch
relationship. As the pair sit on an old-fashioned sofa in a
depressingly drab room, the older man’s fantasy (that he is Butch’s
father and their mother has gone out to the supermarket to buy some
cream cheese) causes consternation in Cliff, who sinks further down in
the sofa as if looking for obscurity. Butch, on the other hand, as
someone used to this sort of fantasy world, sits forward in keenly
confident manner. Even the clothing of the pair, as earlier in the
film, demarcates their feelings- Cliff is over-dressed and keeps his
coat on until Butch starts to undress him, whilst Butch himself wears a
sleeveless top, showing his ease with the situation and with his
sexuality. The contrasts so frequently employed in Sugar are
used well here too, and are supplemented by Cliff’s isolated framing
which shows he is genuinely discomforted and nervous of what the
situation might bring. The monosyllabic answers he gives to the older
man’s questions prove uneasy viewing, especially, as I have argued, we
as an audience are closely aligned with Cliff.
Identity becomes confused in this sequence- Cliff becomes ‘Jeff’, Butch
‘Gary’and they have just finished ice-hockey practice in the fantasy
the older man has created. Cliff’s reluctance (which started outside
the man’s room) is interesting, and reaches its apex when he cries out
for Butch (as a boy might for his father) as the older man moves in
closer when Butch is out of the room. The older man’s desire to watch
the two fondle each other makes the Cliff/Butch relationship seem
suddenly sordid and devoid of the beauty it had earlier in the film,
especially in the previous scene. Once more, Palmer utilises an abrupt
scene contrast to comment on both the current state of affairs and to
make his audience question the very nature of their spectatorship. The
fact that Butch even has to undress the reluctant Cliff is a telling
one, the way Cliff shies away from his advances warn of disquiet, the
resulting cries of anguish that he utters seemingly mark the end of his
dream- Butch uses violent sexual rape to stimulate the older man at the
cost of alienating both Cliff and ourselves- the scene becomes
increasingly uncomfortable viewing, and changes our position of
spectatorship once more.
As Cliff and Butch emerge into daylight blinking at the contrast
following their time inside yet another building, Cliff shows the first
real anger we have seen in Sugar and suddenly pushes Butch
over. With the mise-en-scene of a dirty, garbage-can filled area
reflecting their now degraded relationship, Cliff leaves Butch and
walks rapidly away. Cliff is evidently betrayed and we, as an audience
who have become aligned with him to a greater extent due to his
vulnerability, feel this keenly. That the spat with Butch is probably
permanent is shown by the resulting straight cut to Cliff’s bedroom and
his ‘forget Butch!’spray-paint resolution, Cliff’s sleeveless vest and
cigarette giving him an aspect of masculinity, and creating a sense of
uncertainty as to where events will take him now.
Cliff seems to long for the sunlight and the open-air, and a ride on
his skateboard takes him to a lattice-fence that immediately recalls
his first meeting with Butch. John Westheuser’s cinematography
stunningly captures Andre Noble’s beauty, and a slow fade to black is
used to subtly demarcate a dream-sequence as Cliff watches a young
woman tending her baby before walking over to her. Their embrace and
conversation in the afternoon sunshine belongs to another time- a
parallel time- and is not a part of Cliff’s present existence. The fade
to black that closes this short vignette is the more telling for the
image that follows it- a scruffy Cliff alone at night smoking a joint,
struggling with his solitude and his life without Butch. Then, in a
culmination to his day, Cliff is shown alone on his bed running his
fingers over his ‘J.D.’tattoo, the high angle employed by Palmer
hinting both at his isolation and at his powerlessness- he is not in
control of Butch or himself anymore. The lack of control is emphasised
by his ruffled clothing- the small amount of flesh that does show harks
back to Cliff’s happier times with Butch in bed, in the shower and
lying together during the acid trip.
The feeling that Cliff is suffering in Butch’s absence is enforced by
the appearance and reality theme in the next sequence when Cliff
(looking like a street-wise kid) meets Butch again- the two walk
silently along with a sense of Autumn in the mise-en-scene and in their
relationship. Then, with a bittersweet irony, Cliff is propositioned by
a Senior outside a High School and asked to the Prom but Cliff
declines, perhaps indicating that he cannot freely give himself to
anyone but Butch at this stage. But, in the way Palmer showed the two
together in composed framings and connected them through similar
mise-en-scene earlier in Sugar, their relationship is now
presented as one of drifting apart. Thus, by cutting their activities
off from each other a sense of detachment occurs, as when Cliff talks
to the High School boy, Butch talks to Cookie about drugs. Again,
Palmer uses a lattice fence here, but Butch remains firmly on one side
of it with Cookie (ironically, considering the subject of their
conversation, in a child’s playground) on the other, proof that Butch
cannot return to his childhood. The role-reversal in terms of who
relies on who is pertinent at this point in the film, and Butch’s
‘phone-call to Cliff is evidence of this that echoes Cliff needing (and
admiring) Butch throughout the film but there is now a difference-
Butch is trying to use Cliff, as is evident from the Paradise where
Butch introduces his new boyfriend Greg, an unattractive balding man
much older than Cliff and lacking every virtue that Cliff possesses.
Back at the flat, Palmer draws on his appearance and reality theme in
Butch’s breakdown and hysterical behaviour, the high angle suggesting
now Butch’s insignificance and downfall. Roles are continually reversed
from earlier in Sugar, as Cliff now has to take the paternal
role in holding and comforting Butch as the latter is in a maelstrom of
emotional torment and violent aggression. Cliff, appearing calm,
leaves- that he cries bitterly on the landing denotes two things: the
reality of the situation (Butch is on a swift downward spiral) and his
vulnerable fragility despite the experiences he has had. The audience
does not see Butch’s death per se, but the way he smashes his arm in
anger through the window leading to it bleeding uncontrollably is a
shocking moment in Sugar, and should serve as a warning to
anyone whose temper can go beyond their control, such is its sudden,
graphic and unexpected nature. After continually being around people,
and needing, so it seems, human companionship, Butch dies alone- the
short next scene where Greg confides that he won’t be going to Butch’s
funeral again gives us a double standard- Greg did not truly love
Butch, and it is Butch who has suffered as a result.
Appearance and reality seem to recur again as Butch lies in his coffin
and Cliff (taking on Butch’s mantle of the man of the house) takes
Cookie to see him. The way Cookie is quickly upset proves unsurprising,
but counterpoints her statement from the beginning of the film that
‘emotions are unnecessary’with grim irony. The appearance (Butch is
dead) is suddenly transformed into a reality when he ‘awakes’, but it
is another of Cliff’s subjective fantasy visions, much like that of the
young woman and child, showing what he wants rather than what he has.
Sufficiently shaken, Cliff uses the skateboard (a symbol of transition
between childhood and adulthood) to escape from the scene, closely
followed by Cookie. In a cyclical return to the start of the film, the
pair sit in the restaurant, Cookie’s comment ‘it’s just not fair’aptly
summing-up not only the events of the movie but, in part, the very
nature of life itself. But, Cliff is determined not to let the
mise-en-scene of the restaurant lower his spirits and flirts with
another man. Their conversation could be one between Cliff and Butch,
such is its tenderness. Andre Noble effortlessly conveys a confident
Cliff who has been affected by his experiences to the extent that he
feels able to strike out on his own without the need to remain in the
shadow of another such as Butch.
The closing of the film mirrors some aspects of its opening- there is
another frantic grope (this time in a lavatory cubicle) between Cliff
and his new beau, with none of the reserved shyness seen much earlier
in the film with Butch. Sugar ends as abruptly as it began,
again in true documentary style. Cookie and Cliff leave the restaurant
and Cliff tosses his skateboard onto a pile of garbage, thereby
shedding the preconceptions that went with his former ‘pre-Butch’life.
The skateboard- a symbol of his transition from child to man- has
served its purpose. The fade to black transition, used earlier in the
film to connote peacefulness, is used again here as Cliff walks into
the distance. We, and the camera, do not follow him, but remain at a
distance as his figure is slowly enveloped by the darkness. Cliff, and
Andre Noble’s, image fades from view- and all but fades from life
itself.
If Sugar is to be Andre Noble’s final blazon, the fascinating
extras on the DVD are a fittingly melancholic eulogy. Apart from the
interview with Brendan Fehr (Andre’s poignant absence is more telling
than Fehr’s presence) and the obligatory trailer, there are also three
deleted scenes (which range from the awkward to the bizarre, but are
constantly interesting) plus a tribute to Andre. This thoughtful
addition starts with his screen test for Sugar, in which he is
required to vocally act the bed scene and confess he has not, in fact,
had sex with anyone before. The sincerity Andre brings to the reading
makes it easy to see why he was awarded the role of Cliff, but is also
tinged with a sad emptiness as is the on and off set footage that
capture Andre not as part of his scripted role but relaxing and being
himself. In all this priceless footage we witness the clock-ticking on
the unsuspecting Andre Noble’s life, and there is something very sad in
that, like watching a beautiful flower moments before it is destroyed.
It is the vitally important raison d’etre of film to preserve the
beauty and innocence of someone like Andre Noble, who, inexplicably,
was taken before his time. The existence of a film like Sugar
is an essential one, for in it Andre Noble lives, breathes and is, and
that, even weighed in terms of the world’s richest gold, is a priceless
jewel beyond our wildest comprehension.
Sugar, directed by John Palmer, is available on DVD from
Peccadillo Pictures
Parasol
Peccadillo website
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