Inuit Comedy Series: A Slice of Arctic Life with Some Serious Laughs
Stacey Aglok MacDonald can’t help but feel like she’s won the cultural lottery. She’s about to co-create a new comedy series with Alethea Arnaquq-Baril—think of it as Arctic humor blended with a sprinkle of the ridiculous—thanks to the generous backing of Netflix, CBC, and APTN. No pressure, right? Oh, and did we mention? It has no name yet. Probably because it’s hard to find a catchy title that captures the essence of ‘our lives are hilarious and tragic’ all at once.
Set in a fictional community in Nunavut, this big-budget spectacle promises to deliver ten episodes of scripted joy, written by two Inuit filmmakers who surely understand the nuances of small-town gossip and uncanny family dynamics. Aglok MacDonald quips that she’d only embark on this endeavor with Arnaquq-Baril, who, as it turns out, needed a nudge—okay, more like a light shove—into this comedic venture. “I’ve been having so much fun laughing all day,” Arnaquq-Baril mused, which is quite the revelation in a world filled with existential dread.
The plot, just to keep you on your toes, revolves around a young Inuk mother trying to forge a new path in life while navigating the nosy waters of a tight-knit Arctic town—because what’s better than communal scrutiny when you’re in the throes of self-discovery? They promise it’s entirely fictional. However, Aglok MacDonald assures us it’s “rooted in real-life experiences.” So, our guess is it will hit closer to home than a misplaced snow shovel after a blizzard.
Who needs Hollywood when you can build a studio in Iqaluit? That’s the plan, and it’s all about authenticity and the local economy. Think of it as “the most expensive TV production ever in Nunavut,” which sounds oddly like a new Olympic event. As for the number of jobs this might create, it’s still a mystery, but they did inform Iqaluit’s city council last year that it could generate hundreds of jobs over six months—everyone knows labor is just as essential as a good punchline.
Considering the sheer absurdity of shooting a show set in Nunavut in a Toronto studio, Arnaquq-Baril expresses sheer disbelief when discussing the importance of filming on location. “We just couldn’t imagine,” she says, likely stifling a laugh, “shooting a show about an Arctic community in the heart of urban chaos.” A noble endeavor indeed—the kind of noble that should inspire Hollywood to reconsider their choices.
While construction of the proposed studio has yet to commence (because let’s face it, when does anything ever go according to plan?), Aglok MacDonald and Arnaquq-Baril are busy making friends with northern construction firms and hunting for funds like it’s their Olympic sport. Their dreams are lofty. They aim for a show that could teach viewers about Inuit culture while also making them giggle. That’s right, bridging the gap between education and entertainment in the most delightful way possible.
As they continue to write, the release date remains a mysterious unknown—a classic cliffhanger if there ever was one. Still, with five Inuit writers onboard, it seems unlikely this will simply become a surf-and-turf disaster. Adam Garnet Jones from APTN called this project “a dream come true.” Perhaps he’s just a fan of irony, considering the difficulty of getting an Indigenous comedy shot in the Arctic with an international audience. But hey, if Netflix can bring it to the world stage, they’re clearly banking on this whole ‘cross-cultural comedy’ thing being the next big trend.
With high hopes of joining the ranks of celebrated CBC comedies like *Schitt’s Creek* and *Kim’s Convenience,* Aglok MacDonald and Arnaquq-Baril are nervous yet optimistic. “Time will tell,” adds Aglok MacDonald. As long as they keep the laughs rolling, who could possibly fault them for dreaming big? After all, if anything’s possible, surely so is an Inuit sitcom that digs deep yet tickles the funny bone at the same time.
