When I wrote a review of the first two episodes of Sugar, I suggested in my close of the review that the biggest mystery in Sugar isn’t the case of a missing person, but that of who is “John Sugar” (played by the great Colin Farrell) himself. Six episodes later as the show came to a close, I not only found out who John Sugar is, but I discovered that my original perception of the show—that the real mystery is Farrell’s character—was more on the money than I could have ever expected.
In the early going, Farrell’s performance is both curious (in terms of the actor’s take on the character and the audience’s understanding of him) and perplexing. Why does he love old movies (particularly film noirs) so much? Why is he so gentle unless forced to be otherwise? What are these drugs he’s taking (is he an addict?). These panic attacks he’s having, what are they caused by?
Sugar rolls these answers out in a slow burn fashion. While the character’s effects are on display, the show is rolled out to us with a semi-conventional storyline (daughter of rich family hiding major secrets employed a PI to find their daughter), the show, rather unconventionally, pays homage to great noirs of the past by inserting scenes from movies starring Humphrey Bogart, Robert Mitchum, and Jack Nicholson, among others.
It’s a delicate balance the series is trying to manage: To invest the viewer in the story of Sugar while consistently homaging classic versions of the genre. And then, just when you think you have the show figured out, it combines genres, and the mystery of John Sugar is suddenly revealed as we learn that he is not just more than what he seems, but much more.
SPOILER ALERT: If you have not already seen Sugar and intend to watch it, stop reading now.
You’ve been warned.
As it turns out, John Sugar is not human at all. He comes from an alien race that sent emissaries to earth to “observe and report” on our kind (a rule John Sugar consistently breaks with his obsession for finding the missing—a compulsion explained in heartbreaking fashion). We discover John Sugar’s otherness dramatically as his skin turns blue while alone in his hotel room. It’s a stunning moment, but not one that Farrell, in incredibly subtle ways, didn’t preface for us.
There’s his demeanor with human beings, which is incredibly sympathetic, yet somehow not exactly normal. His affection for dogs and in one case his ability to shush two attacking Dobermans. Perhaps most telling is a sequence where John Sugar is forced to defend himself from a pistol and in the blink of an eye, he is able to deflect the gun in a fashion that leaves his would-be assailant saying aloud and in the moment “What the…”
And then there are Farrell’s many wonderful scenes with Amy Ryan (who plays a former rock star connected to the case) where Farrell doesn’t behave as a normal film noir gumshoe would. He doesn’t take her to bed (despite her willingness), and he tells her multiple times that I can’t share the truth of my existence with you.
All of these moments are brilliantly layered up until the stunning reveal in such a way that you could just think of Farrell as an unusually kind gumshoe with an odd manner. But in fact, what all these moments are where Farrell hints at some sort of outside perspective on the world are actually bread crumbs, one that leads to the whole loaf just as you thought you understood how the bread was being baked.
Sugar is like The Man Who Fell To Earth dropped into a modern day Raymond Chandler novel, and then set alight on screen. It probably shouldn’t work, but Farrell (who only two years ago had one of the greatest years on film of any actor ever) trusts himself to underplay his character and trusts the audience to still find him interesting and follow-worthy.
Which he is, in spades. This is truly next level acting on display. It’s hard to imagine the patience and confidence required to play John Sugar so perfectly that when his skin suit recedes that you are both shocked and at the same time thinking, “now it all makes sense.”
To take nothing away from directors Fernando Mereilles and Adam Arkin, the tech and craft crews, or the extraordinary cast that surrounds Farrell, the entire series is made by one performance and one performance only: That of Colin Farrell’s. Because if for even a single second he hints just a little too much at what’s to come, the show tumbles down like Jenga blocks.
To Farrell’s immense credit, he does not. Despite playing an otherworldly character, the soulfulness and compassion of John Sugar are always on display. Even the moments of violence that he must commit sadden him, and when he loses control on a very bad man, he is left crestfallen.
It’s an extraordinary performance by an actor who seems to give no other kind anymore. Colin Farrell is at the pinnacle of his profession. This one time “it boy” has turned into a great lead or supporting character as he has gracefully moved into his middle ages.
Sugar is just the most recent example of such, and Emmy voters ought to take note and reward him with a nomination.
