In discussing the steps forward Indigenous cinema has taken in Canada in recent years, Inuk actor Anna Lambe states her desire for "sovereignty of stories" — the idea that communities can control their own narratives when being represented in film and television.
Unfortunately still a rather novel concept in our country's entertainment landscape, Lambe and producers Stacey Aglok MacDonald and Alethea Arnaquq-Baril are helping to normalize it: Aglok MacDonald and Anaquq-Baril co-produced 2018's The Grizzlies and 2022's Slash/Back, two acclaimed movies set and filmed in Nunavut telling both historical and fantastical stories of the North.
Now, the three filmmakers have come together again to continue making progress with the new CBC/Netflix/APTN comedy series North of North, created by Aglok MacDonald and Arnaquq-Baril, and starring Lambe as Siaja, a young mother in the midst of a personal reinvention after the sudden (and very public) end of her marriage.
The series takes place in the tiny (and fictional) Arctic community of Ice Cove and introduces us to a cast of colourful characters and social dynamics, the most prickly of the characters being Siaja's ex-husband Ting, played by Kelly William — an entirely reprehensible human being whose neck I wanted to grab through my TV and ring like Homer Simpson does to Bart.
Speaking to Exclaim! in a group interview over Zoom, Arnaquq-Baril laughs, "He's kind of an amalgamation of all our worst boyfriends. Not the worst parts of them, just the parts that are comically bad. [He's] just the wrong person for [Saija]."
She continues, "We want to build a world that feels real to us and that full of beautiful, sweet, loving, Indigenous men who are good fathers. That's the other thing we wanted Ting to embody: you can not know how to be a good partner while also being a really good father. We also wanted to speak about the strength of a woman and coming into adulthood and [Saija] really learning how to be herself and to push against constraints that might be put on her by a partner."
As Saija, Lambe understands the emotions tied to these challenges she confronts at this pivotal moment in the character's life, specifically, "How to make everyone happy while also making yourself happy and finding your place within community. Sometimes you step on people's toes and you have to give yourself grace and give other people grace, and hopefully they give you that grace in return. It was really funny, sad and exciting to see how many times Siaja really, really messes things up."
Beyond the typical ups and downs former spouses endure, the creators of North of North are mindful to ensure that they sidestep the stereotypes often attributed to the men of their community when outsiders take the reigns on their stories.
"There's a long history in cinema of Native men being portrayed as dangerous and unlikable," Arnaquq-Baril says. "We wanted to walk that line really carefully to make sure we're not entrenching that trope."
Avoiding tropes provides an obvious benefit to controlling ones own narrative, but where North of North goes a step further is in reversing the typical character dynamics, including replacing the token ethnic supporting character with a token white woman, Helen, played by Mary Lynn Rajskub.
Introduced as a self-assumed leader, Helen represents the white folks who have lived in Indigenous communities for a significant length of time, and because of that, believe they are entitled to a sense of authority. However, rather than villainizing Helen or subjecting her to ridicule, Aglok MacDonald and Arnaquq-Baril grant Helen some of the same nuance and authenticity afforded to Ting.
Aglok MacDonald muses how many would characterize Helen with the pejorative "Karen" label, but the writer insists that epithet doesn't fit in their series. "These characters are so much more complicated and sometimes insidious," she explains, before landing one of the darkest tongue-in-cheek jokes I've ever heard with comedic aplomb (and met with uproarious laughter from her colleagues): "They're so embedded in the community and oftentimes have the best of intentions — much like what they said about residential schools."
When asked whether there was a temptation to write Helen with a daftness as almost spiritual retribution for all the Indigenous caricatures that have come before, Aglok MacDonald laughs, "Not so much temptation, but I did find it incredibly easy to write jokes."
Arnaquq-Baril adds, "Helens [aren't] unique here. They're all over the place in the North. Part of the reason we have an unending supply of jokes and storylines for a character like Helen is because we've lived with them our whole lives."
Arnaquq-Baril acknowledges the complications that come with Helens as they ingratiate themselves into the fold and become mentors and friends — that is, until a weird and awkward tension arises where it's clear they believe themselves to be the most qualified community decision-makers.
"I think, in a lot of racialized communities, it's a dynamic that will feel familiar," Arnaquq-Baril says. "Why is this white lady running this town of Inuit? Even when they are kind and doing their best to help people, there's this awkward tension of: why are you in this position? What gave you the nerve? We've all had Helens, sometimes multiple Helens."
The nuanced (and comical) treatment of characters like Ting and Helen underscore Lambe's mention of sovereignty of stories. Similar to The Grizzlies and Slash/Back, North of North not only stands as an example of Indigenous stories told by Indigenous Peoples, but it serves as a tangible explanation as to why this should have always been the case. It isn't simply a matter of political or societal "correctness" — those who experience life through a particular lens are, in fact, the best people to tell the story of that experience. Who knew.
North of North sets down another waypoint in the neverending mission to break down old stereotypes and barriers. It depicts the small communities of the North as full of heartfelt connections, biting humour and messy people just trying to figure out life — a truly universal condition. The series represents another battle won in the war to simply be seen.
Lambe points to "being able to do a comedy and represent Indigenous joy, Inuk joy," as the aspect of the series she was most excited about upon learning about the project.
"When we get to be centred in stories, it's often about our trauma and how colonialism has done this or that," she explains. "And that can be true, but having the spotlight on the joy that we create and foster in our communities, and the love that we have for one another — and that is, at its core, what our communities are about and who we are — was most important to me and made me want to be a part of this show. [It] makes me incredibly proud to see what we've created."