Set against the vivid backdrop of 1931 French-colonized Martinique, “Sugar Cane Alley” (“Rue Cases-Nègres”) stands as one of cinema’s most tender and politically charged coming-of-age stories. The film follows eleven-year-old José, a bright and curious boy raised by his devoted grandmother, M’man Tine, who dreams of a life for him beyond the sugar cane fields. Under Euzhan Palcy’s lyrical and deeply human direction, José’s story unfolds as both a personal awakening and a powerful portrait of colonial life—where poverty, racism, and resilience intertwine.
Celebrated by critics and audiences alike, “Sugar Cane Alley” was praised by Roger Ebert as a “smart, sometimes hard-edged story that earns its moments of sentiment.” The film secured Palcy’s place in cinema history as the first Black woman to win both the Silver Lion at Venice and a César Award. Now beautifully restored in 4K, its lush imagery and emotional truth continue to resonate with new generations.
This year, the Chicago International Film Festival honors writer and director Euzhan Palcy with the Black Perspectives Tribute and Career Achievement Award, taking place tomorrow at 5:30 PM at the Logan Theatre of the Arts. The celebration will highlight her trailblazing career spanning continents and decades—from her groundbreaking debut to A Dry White Season, which earned Marlon Brando his final Oscar nomination. In 2022, Palcy received an Honorary Governors Award from the Academy, further cementing her legacy as a cinematic pioneer.
Cinema Femme had the privilege of speaking with Euzhan Palcy ahead of the tribute. In our conversation, she reflects on the making of “Sugar Cane Alley,” the enduring power of authentic representation, and the importance of telling stories that reveal our shared humanity.
Get tickets for tomorrow’s screening and tribute event here.
What inspired you to adapt “Sugar Cane Alley” from Joseph Zobel’s book? What made you want to bring that story to the screen?
Well, when I was very young—maybe 12 or 13—my mother gave me a book to read. I was always following her around, asking questions, talking too much, and she was cooking one day and just wanted a little peace. So, to keep me busy, she handed me this book and said, “Read this. But don’t cheat—I know it by heart because I’ve read it twice.” She had no idea what she was giving me.
That book changed my life. It caused what I’d call a volcano inside me. For the first time, I was reading a story about Black people—Black children having fun, getting into trouble, an old grandmother, an old man talking about Africa—and it all took place in my country, Martinique. I recognized everything: the language, the life, the people. My friends’ parents still worked in the sugarcane fields, just like in the story. I felt I knew those characters.
By that age, I already loved movies. I was obsessed! We didn’t have a real cinema—just a church hall with a screen. Every Sunday after Mass, if we’d behaved and done well in school, our parents gave us a little coin to go see the movie. It was the highlight of my week.
Sometimes, though, my parents would go to see “grown-up” films during the week. I used to pretend to be asleep, fully dressed, and then sneak out to follow them to the theater. They’d find me halfway there and be furious—but they didn’t want to miss the movie, so they’d bring me in with them. And each time there was a kissing scene, my mother would cover my eyes with her hand! (laughs)
All this is to say, I was starving for cinema. And that book—Joseph Zobel’s Rue Cases-Nègres—it stayed with me. I read it a hundred times. I knew every line, every scene, every character. I could see it like a film in my head. When I went to high school, I started writing my first version of the screenplay, even though I didn’t know how to write one yet. Later, I went to France to study filmmaking, rewrote the script several times, and eventually made the film.
One of the great blessings of my career was meeting François Truffaut, who became my mentor. I loved his films—”The Wild Child,” for example—his sensitivity to childhood and human emotion. I felt a connection with that. Truffaut helped me assemble my team for “Sugar Cane Alley”—including my cinematographer, Dominique Chapuis.
I love the performances in “Sugar Cane Alley.” The actors are so multidimensional, especially the grandmother—she reminded me of my own. How did you find your cast, and what was it like working with them?
Almost all of them were non-professional actors. Only two were professionals: Darling Legitimus, who played the grandmother, and Douta Seck, who played Médouze, the old African man.
Darling Legitimus had a long career in theater and a few television films, but she was always cast as a maid or cook—never in a lead role. “Sugar Cane Alley” was the first time she was given a part worthy of her talent. And when she won the Best Actress Award at the Venice Film Festival, at 76 years old, against great European actresses, it was such a victory—for her and for all of us.
Douta Seck was a legendary actor from Senegal. He’d played in Aimé Césaire’s The Tragedy of King Christophe and A Season in the Congo. He had this majestic presence—his body language, his voice, his dignity. When Césaire told me he was still alive, living in poverty in Senegal, I knew I had to cast him. He was Médouze.
For the rest of the cast, I saw over 4,000 children! Most were too shy in front of the camera, but eventually I found my José, played by Garry Cadenat, and the others. I trained them all myself.
Your cinematographer, Dominique Chapuis, did such beautiful work—especially in the scene where people search through the cane fields for Médouze. Can you talk about your collaboration with him?
Dominique was wonderful—a true artist. Sadly, he passed away from cancer a couple of years after we finished the film.
When we prepared “Sugar Cane Alley,” we discussed whether to shoot on Kodak or Fuji film. I didn’t like how Kodak rendered Black skin—it looked gray, lifeless. Fuji had been designed for Asian skin tones, and it captured much more warmth and depth. That’s why we chose Fuji, and you can see the result, especially in the night scenes with Médouze and José by the fire—their skin glows, it’s luminous.
That decision made a huge difference. Even the Japanese distributors noticed it—they were the first to buy the film after it premiered at the Venice Film Festival. They were so proud to see “Created on Fuji” in the credits!
What was your experience like premiering at the New York Film Festival?
Oh, that was something! (laughs) After screenings, white American audiences would come up to me, so moved by the story, saying, “Ms. Palcy, we’d like to send money to help the little boy and his grandmother.” And I’d say, “No, no—they’re fine! This is the 1980s, not the 1930s. But if you really want to help, go to Harlem—there are many families there who could use that kindness.”
I loved your Oscar speech when you said you “shoot to heal.” Could you talk a bit about what you meant by that?
Yes—because for me, filmmaking is not just art or entertainment. It’s a way to heal wounds—to bring people together through understanding and empathy. I want my films to restore dignity, to remind us of our shared humanity. That’s always been my mission.
Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Palcy. It’s been an honor speaking with you.
Thank you—it was a pleasure.
