Indigenous comedy is having a moment. That’s according to Kerry Swanson, CEO of the Indigenous Screen Office, who notes broadcasters’ heightened interest in the genre of late. “We’re seeing that across the board,” she says.

One of the biggest recent successes in the genre is Acting Good, an absurd-in-the-best-way sitcom that will soon air its third season. The first two seasons introduced us to Paul—a mama’s boy (played by series creator Paul Rabliauskas) who finds himself back on his northern Manitoba reserve after being chewed up and spit out by the big city of Winnipeg—and a delightful ensemble of kookier-than-thou characters.

Rabliauskas, a stand-up comedian, had been pitching variations of Acting Good for 10 years before it got picked up by Bell Media. It’s based on his own experiences and his own community: Poplar River First Nation in northern Manitoba, where he grew up, is a direct inspiration for Acting Good’s fictional fly-in community of Grouse Lake First Nation.

Since his show got the green light, Rabliauskas says it’s been both a “whirlwind” and “a dream come true.” He admits to early fears that nobody would watch it, “because it’s about my life and it’s Indigenous.” On the contrary: the show is now CTV Comedy Channel’s top-rated series.

“I think Canadians are really taking to our stories,” says Rabliauskas. But far from satisfied with the success of his show alone, he says, “I think we need five or six more [Indigenous] comedies on all the networks everywhere.”

He may soon get his wish. North of North (Red Marrow Media, Northwood Entertainment), about a young, single Inuk mother trying to make a new life for herself and her daughter in her tiny Arctic town, is scheduled to premiere on CBC and APTN, followed by Netflix, in 2025. BC-based Haisla hip-hop duo Snotty Nose Rez Kids will be releasing their own scripted comedy series in the coming year. And Don’t Even (Pier 21 Films, Frantic Films Manitoba, Sekowan Media), a coming-of-age series set in the late ’90s that follows two best friends in the summer after their last year of high school, will air on Crave and APTNt. (Think My So-Called Life, but make it funny, First Nations and “friggin’ Winnipeg.”)

“Our audiences have loved Acting Good,” says Justin Stockman, Bell Media’s VP of Content Development & Programming. “Content that reflects all Canadian experiences, across both comedy and drama, is a cornerstone of our English commissioning strategy.”

Stockman adds that he’s excited to see this momentum continue with Don’t Even.

Indigenous comedy is nothing new, and with fresh new content on the horizon, audiences in Canada will hopefully get to see more of it on major broadcasters and streaming services. But Acting Good producer Tina Keeper (who also plays Paul’s mother, Agnes) points out that her show is the first of its kind to be carried by a mainstream broadcaster.

“Bravo to Bell Media; I am so grateful to them for taking the step,” Keeper says. “But still, it’s kind of embarrassing to have gone this long without public broadcasters working with Indigenous creators.”

It’s also a shame that audiences have been deprived for this long. According to Swanson and the teams behind the new shows, there’s something about Indigenous comedy that just makes sense.

Says Swanson, “Humour and comedy are so foundational to Indigenous cultures and communities, and it’s really exciting that Canadians can now have the opportunity to be exposed to that.”

“We find humour in the darkest places,” says Rabliauskas. “Indigenous people have had so much tragedy and struggle in our lives that I think humour helped us get through all that stuff.”
Meg MacKay, a co-producer on Don’t Even, describes an upbringing where comedy was used to communicate, tackle difficult subjects and relate to one another. “You can always tell that someone in my family likes you if they tease you,” she says. “You know you’re welcomed in.”

Amber-Sekowan Daniels, creator of Don’t Even (and a co-creator on Acting Good) agrees: “Something we literally say all the time is, ‘Laughter is medicine.’ I know when people think about Indigenous cultures, there’s this idea of stoicism. And that definitely exists. But part of the teachings I grew up with were around humility, and humour is a part of that—we tease each other to keep each other humble.”
Like Rabliauskas, Daniels wanted to use her series to showcase where she grew up and spent her formative years—in her case, Winnipeg.

Daniels notes that she hadn’t seen a lot of urban coming-of-age films or series, let alone urban Indigenous ones. “Winnipeg is a very, very special place to grow up, and it has a huge Indigenous population. So that setting was really important for me,” she says.

Virtually all of these new series are rooted in real places and real experiences, making it easy for people from those places to relate. And make no mistake: these shows are made for Indigenous audiences first and foremost.

Says Swanson about some of the if-you-know-you-know humour on Acting Good: “That is authentic Indigenous storytelling, where those stories are being told by Indigenous people primarily to Indigenous audiences, and everyone is invited into the circle. But I love that we’re at a point where Indigenous storytellers don’t have to try to be anything other than who they are.”

But that doesn’t mean the jokes are lost on everybody else. After all, everyone is invited into the circle, as Swanson says. As we’ve seen so often with shows that have a tightly focused subject matter (and what looks like limited appeal), the universal can be found in the particular. Shows like Acting Good and Don’t Even won’t reach audiences and win hearts by pandering to non-Indigenous audiences or stripping out all the insider jokes—viewers want to see the real thing.

“Our TV show is about a remote fly-in community. Our creators have that background, and most of our cast members have that background, and it’s really informed our work. So we were surprised that we were so successful in the ratings,” says Acting Good’s Tina Keeper. “What I’ve concluded is that everything is universal. This is a wacky, kooky little show, but it’s focused on community—tiny family units that everybody knows. I think that is something that people relate to.”

Says Rabliauskas, “When I get recognized on the street, at this point it’s almost 50/50 in terms of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people who come up to me and say they love the show.”

According to Swanson, the success of shows like Acting Good—and hopefully of Don’t Even and all the other Indigenous comedies coming down the pike—hinges on narrative sovereignty. That is, First Nations, Inuit, and Métis creators telling their stories their way, whether through the lens of comedy or drama or documentary.

“Indigenous ownership and control over Indigenous storytelling has finally provided the avenue and the opportunity for Indigenous people to tell authentic stories, instead of trying to fit into some predetermined box that a broadcaster wants to fit them into,” says Swanson. “That’s the reason why we’re seeing such great stories. I can’t really make that point enough.”

“Just let us do it,” says Daniels. “I had a really special opportunity on Don’t Even, where I felt like everyone from the producers to the broadcasters really trusted me to tell this story. They trusted me and supported me to do it. So just let us lead our stories.”

With the ISO’s funds under administration recently increasing to $37 million a year, we can expect to see more gems like these, says Swanson.

“It’s really that freedom to be authentic, original, and unique in the storytelling that is going to generate these new kinds of stories that audiences are ready for and hungry for,” says Swanson—whether those stories come out of a bustling metropolis, a remote northern Manitoba reserve, or anywhere in between.

There’s a snowball effect at work, says MacKay of Don’t Even. “You finally see yourself on screen, and that inspires you to create your own work,” she says.

“We’re at the beginning of, hopefully, a continuing trend,” says Daniels. Audiences, get ready to laugh.