Comfort Me, Canadian TV

A recent article made the argument that CBC television should return to the weirdness of its roots. It’s a fair claim, to which one might answer, have you watched Saint-Pierre?

The fictional cop drama set on the island of Saint-Pierre is a banana-pants experience. I understand that it’s supposed to be gritty and dark, but there is something terribly and unintentionally hilarious about the show.

I think it’s the unintentional part that I find most endearing. It harkens back to CBC productions of old that tried to ape bigger, more generously resourced American shows, but just couldn’t seem to get things right.

A particular flavour of Canadian-ness always leaked through. Mmm, maple.

Let’s start with the premise of Saint-Pierre itself. Former undercover cop Donny “Fitz” Fitzpatrick, (played by jaw-forward actor Allan Hawco) is reassigned after running afoul of powerful political types in the big city. For his efforts, he is packed off to the exceedingly strange island of Saint-Pierre, one of the three main islands of Saint-Pierre and Miquelon. An outpost of actual France, the islands are located close to Newfoundland, another equally strange place.

Accustomed to the rough and ready world of inner-city policing and undercover work, our man Fitz does not play well with deputy chief Geneviève “Arch” Archambault, a “French-French” cop from Paris (Joséphine Jobert), also exiled to Saint-Pierre. But these two characters from different worlds must find a way of working together, and with that, we’re off to the races.

The premise doesn’t sound terribly funny, but the hilarious parts are in the details. There are stone-faced baddies, cornpone dialogue and deeply strange police uniforms that resemble rejects from Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I love it.

Despite their clumsy, often downright befuddling premises and execution, I find CBC dramas deeply comforting.

Let me explain with a meandering story (hey, maybe I can write a CBC drama, too!).

In a distressing world, we need familiarity

A few years ago, when I was in Amsterdam to attend IDFA, the largest documentary film festival in the world, I overheard the distinctive sound of a Canadian accent.

In normal circumstances, I would probably never have noticed it. But after a week of listening to Dutch, French, English and German-inflected English, hearing a Canadian was like ringing a giant gong. The need to be with another of my fellow Canucks hit me in an avalanche of homesickness.

In times and places far from home, sometimes you just want to be with your peeps. So too, in moments of emotional upheaval. And if that means watching television shows that stretch credibility ‘til it snaps, cool!

Weirdly enough, I don’t find the CBC shows that are supposed to be funny very amusing at all. The midlife comedy Small Achievable Goals is a case in point.

The two main protagonists, Kris and Julie, are in late middle age and contending with the indignities of perimenopause. Hilarious? Well, not really. Given that I am around the same age as the show’s central characters, you would think it would be relatable, funny and perceptive, but you would be wrong. Gags about weird bouts of uncontrollable horniness, random drenching periods and creeping irrelevancy in the workforce are all handled with the sensitivity of a sledgehammer. I made it through a couple of episodes, then ran screaming from the room.

Far more entertaining, though not all that funny, is Allegiance, another police procedural set on Canada’s West Coast, this time in Surrey. Poor old Surrey. It used to be the butt of jokes, so it’s rather nice to see the region taken seriously in this series.

Since its first season in 2024, the show has developed in interesting ways, following its lead character Sabrina Sohal, played by Supinder Wraich, as she navigates the complexities of urban policing.

A lot has happened since Sohal graduated and started her job, so, if you haven’t watched the series in entirety, a quick perusal of seasons one and two are in order before we leap willy-nilly into season three.

I’m not exactly sure why I find Allegiance so calming. Maybe that it’s filmed in the summer months, when the bright sun is beaming down on Surrey’s streets. Or maybe it’s spotting familiar places as Sohal et al race around Metro Vancouver, chasing down perps and looking all serious and shit. It’s the po-faced approach that makes even the most preposterous plots become extremely entertaining.

Wild Cards is another show that is often strangely funny, although more often with the clear intent to be funny, as opposed to other programs where it’s accidental.

The premise of the show is the unlikely pairing of a con-artist/hustler (Vanessa Morgan) paired with a straight-edge police officer (Giacomo Gianniotti). They take down criminals and no-goodniks through the convergence of their wildly dissimilar approaches and skillsets. The leads are equally toothsome, and they go about the work of the show with good humour and a gung-ho approach that is sweet and extremely watchable.

The show also airs on the American cable channel the CW, and both stars have been featured on U.S.-made series (Riverdale and Grey’s Anatomy), so it feels a little less authentically Canadian than the other two shows. But that’s a minor quibble. It’s still a hoot.

A sense of place. And home

Many years ago, I remember reading a magazine article about how the long-running CBC comedy drama series The Beachcombers was interpreted in countries around the world. No one in Saudi Arabia could figure out the show’s premise, so they came up with novel ideas for why Relic (Robert Clothier) and Nick Adonidas (Bruno Gerussi) were messing about in boats with giant logs.

There were several theories that emerged in the countries where the show was running in syndication, including speculation that the logs being battled over must contain drugs or some other form of contraband. The logs couldn’t just be logs, could they?

My point is that what seems weird in another part of the world can be perfectly normal here, and vice versa. So too, is the comfort of seeing the place and people from one’s particular part of the world reflected onscreen.

This is part of the pleasure of watching the Allegiance characters booting it out to Tsawwassen; maybe I’ll see my sister’s house or Pat Quinn’s Restaurant & Bar.

Seeking comfort is a form of collectivity

Canadian television has recently hit the big time with Heated Rivalry, a Crave original series.

The sound and fury surrounding Heated Rivalry is still going strong, and I would argue that the best bits of the show are all about comfort.

There is ease in the silliness between the couples on the show, whether they’re playing video games or humping up a storm. Warmth and familiarity emerge in the banter, jokes and safety that comes from being with a person who knows you upside down and backwards (no sex jokes intended).

Heated Rivalry proved irresistible to viewers because it revealed an open and gaping chasm: the need for tenderness, joy and love that the previous decade has torn, and continues to tear, to shreds.

Who amongst us wouldn’t want to eat heaps of spaghetti with their sexy-butt boyfriend. Me, I want that! So does everyone else, it seems.

The onus on Canadians to support their own cultural creations becomes even more critical as the U.S. continues to dissolve into new depths of madness.

Turning to comfort and goofiness is an innately human response to this dark moment in the world. But once the goofiness gets in you, it stays there for good.

CBC’s sillier offerings have endured in me, decades after they first aired. May I present to thee the Irish Rovers and their 1970s musical variety show featuring humpty-backed camels and long-necked geese.

To this day, My sister and I still quote a long forgotten made-for-CBC drama from the 1980s starring Hume Cronyn. I barely remember the premise of the film, but I can still recall the inadvertently hilarious ads for it. It goes beyond television to all manner of Canadian culture.

One of my funnier social media experiences came about a while back when people decided to share their favourite CanCon music videos.

It didn’t take long to go from the Parachute Club’s 1983 hit “Rise Up” to (Larry) Gowan to Helix’s X-rated spelling lesson in the anthemic cuckoo-for-coco puffs “Rock You” from 1984.

Comfort can come from the strangest of places. Sure, it has roots in nostalgia, but it’s also a form of togetherness and community. As the world spirals into extremity, this feeling is writ large. Suddenly even the corniest Canadiana feels like manna for the soul.

I just want to be at home with my fellow weirdo Canucks. A few humpty-backed camels are OK, too.