John Sugar is an alien.
“Sugar” — the show about L.A. private investigator John Sugar, who is played by Colin Farrell and who is also an alien — conceals that simple fact for its first six episodes, infamously mistaking a critical part of the premise for a juicy, late-season twist. As a result, the character becomes one note. Season 1 is frustrating when it should be fascinating, and remote when it needs to feel personal; it keeps you at a distance when it’s meant to be drawing you in.
In her mutinous, rallying cry of an essay titled, “Tell Your Friends That John Sugar Is an Alien,” Vulture critic Kathryn VanArendonk puts it plainly: “Just because something is missing does not make that absence fun!” Despite her heroic efforts, to this day, viewers are still discovering what the Apple TV series is actually about long after they should (and reacting accordingly).
Blaming all of “Sugar’s” failures on the wrongfully withheld information would be a bridge too far, but it’s still shocking to see how much better Season 2 is now that John’s big secret is out. Suddenly, John’s an open book. Lingering questions about what his alien nature is capable of can be played for charming laughs (like when he starts the season by suspending a tennis ball in front of a pack of hynotized dogs) or effective reveals (like when he’s shot multiple times in a drive-by — and then drives home to replenish his special, glowing alien blood). His big-picture concerns aren’t hidden behind opaque narration anymore, so we’re free to commiserate with a lonely guy who’s lost all his friends. He’s not the mystery anymore; his cases are.
Speaking of Sugar’s caseload, Season 2’s improvements are evident beyond the inevitable advantages of outing him as an alien. For one, new showrunner Sam Catlin (who worked on the first season under series creator Mark Protosevich but seems to agree with the twist-centric criticisms) concocts an investigation that helps John see himself in humans, rather than one that tries to turn our cinephile from outer space against us. (The grim initial mystery, in which the bad guy beats women to death with hammers, seems designed to punish Sugar — and thus the audience — for taking a case for the wrong reasons; i.e. to chat up an iconic Old Hollywood producer.)
In Season 2, a boxer on the rise named Danny Moon (Jin Ha) hires Sugar to find his missing, wayward brother, Ji-Seok (Raymond Lee). At first, everyone assumes Ji-Seok is on an extended bender or hiding from the cops. There is, of course, more to it than that, and when the crisis escalates, Sugar advises Danny to get out of town, maybe somewhere he can start over entirely.
But Danny refuses. This is his home, and Ji-Seok is his family. No matter how many times they fuck up or are pulled apart, these siblings will never abandon each other — a sentiment John admires and understands, considering he refused to follow his fellow blue-skinned extraterrestrials back to their home planet without finding out what happened to his sister.
“If I walk away, who helps them?” Sugar asks himself, unveiling another subtle yet essential shift in Season 2: Colin Farrell‘s performance. In Season 1, Sugar was hard-edged and assertive; the kind of private investigator who leads with intimidation and meets aggression with equal aggression. Even when he’s kind, his armor is up — which makes sense for a character with a whopper of a secret identity, but still keeps the audience at arm’s length.
Now that Sugar’s inner monologue isn’t concealing his true self, Farrell opens up beautifully. In a word, he’s sweeter. His voice is softer. His shoulders are looser. He’s gentler with people, and his compassion comes through in every conversation. When visiting an elderly woman crippled by the recent death of her grandson, he finishes their interview, quietly gets up from the kitchen table, and does her dishes — how can you not love this guy? Is he really an alien from another planet, or is he Jesus Christ, returned from heaven, washing the feet of the needy?
If Sugar was doing an impression of a human being before, he’s living as one now, and Farrell captures the evolution with impeccable grace. It helps to have a stronger supporting cast. Shea Whigham provides exceptional levels of Shea Whigham-ness as a friendly federal agent (and ex-client) whose health issues elicit deeper conversations than their professional obligations require. Tony Dalton brings impressive menace to a superficially affable sheriff, and Laura Donnelly strikes the perfect balance between femme fatale and innocent love interest. Ha and Lee are also dialed in, as is Sasha Calle as Val, a con woman Sugar recruits as his assistant and protégé.
Devoting time to Sugar and the people he cares about is only possible because the serialized alien subplot is put to bed early. Season 1 ends with Sugar vowing to track down Henry (Jason Butler Harner), a fellow blue guy who may be responsible for their entire race getting chased off Earth and for the disappearance of Sugar’s sister, Djen (Mireille Enos). But instead of drawing out that pursuit in conjunction with the Moon brothers’ case, Sugar tracks down Henry in Season 2’s opening frames. He watches him die. He learns nothing about Djen, so he tries to move on, believing he’ll never know what happened to her, and he’ll never go back to his home planet.
The former assumption isn’t true, of course (you don’t recast the role with Mireille Enos if we’re never going to see Djen again), but the way Catlin & Co. incorporate Sugar’s otherworldly origins is in harmony with the ongoing story. Fear of assimilating too much weighs heavily on Sugar, now that he’s without other aliens to talk to (or keep him in line). He doesn’t want to forget where he comes from, while still wanting to enjoy where he’s living now.
Los Angeles is an ideal locale for such soul-searching, and being a stranger in a strange land — who finds other strangers there, too — forms a poignant, effective allegory (that’s also graciously restrained). Sure, it’s still a little silly whenever alien technology or blue skin pops into frame, but now that we expect an occasional invasion from outer space, they’re less disruptive.
While Sugar tries to define who he is, “Sugar” already knows what it is. So when John finally gets a definitive answer on whether or not humanity has changed him, the conclusion comes as a relief not only because it’s honest, but because we understand exactly what it means.
“How do you seem to me? You seem like Sugar.”
John Sugar is an alien. And now, thankfully, he’s so much more.
“Sugar” Seasons 1-2 are available on Apple TV. The series has not yet been renewed for Season 3.
