Fostering homegrown fandom isn't just about cultural pride — it’s an economic strategy to keep Canadian screen talent from heading south.

Tonya Williams spent two decades playing Dr. Olivia Barber Winters on the long-running soap opera The Young and the Restless, from the 1990s to the 2010s. But few knew she was Canadian at the time despite the fact she started her acting career as the host of the well-loved Canadian children’s show Polka Dot Door.

“The times that I would be in Canada and people would go, ‘Oh, why are you here?’ like they had no idea I was Canadian,” Williams recalls. “Even though I started my career in Canada, people were completely oblivious that I was Canadian.”

Williams has since founded the Reelworld Screen Institute to advance opportunities for underrepresented communities in screen industries. More recently, Williams has been advocating for the establishment of a star system in Canada — the marketing and promotion of homegrown talent to elevate them to celebrity status, encouraging a sense of fandom and establishing household names who are known and loved in Canada.

The Canada Media Fund (CMF) has also recognized the need for a star system here, which is what prompted the CMF’s Diego Briceño, senior manager of data equity, to include a section about our star system in a report released this month titled Shifting the Lens: A Survey for Canadian Screen Performers. “We want to understand how performers can help make Canadian content more exciting and reach a broader audience, with greater impact and longevity,” Briceño explains.

Report shows stark difference between Quebec and rest of Canada

Interestingly, according to the report, there is a stark difference between French- and English-speaking Canada when it comes to the existence of a star system. While 21 percent of Quebec performers feel there is a strong and consistent star system that benefits performers and productions, only three percent of performers in Ontario and two percent of performers in British Columbia feel the same.

“Quebec has this longstanding star system that is fed by magazines, by talk shows, by different things that keep it alive,” Briceño explains. “There is a clear sense that there is a star system that has been useful, but outside Quebec most people say there is no star system and that was a limitation for their careers.”

Briceño says a more distinct cultural identity in French Canada has also contributed to its successful star system and the ability of Quebecois performers to achieve celebrity status in the region. “I think in Quebec there's pride to see yourself and people who sound like you, with the same accent and using the French from Quebec in a particular way,” he explains.

Talent heads south in absence of a star system

ACTRA National President Eleanor Noble says the lack of a star system in English Canada has pushed talented actors to head stateside to further their careers. “We have never created that same opportunity here in Canada,” she explains. “We’ve had success in Canadian film and TV productions, but unless performers leave Canada it is incredibly challenging to carve out a ‘celebrity’ persona for ourselves.”

There’s no doubt that the talent is here. Noble points to wildly successful productions that have seen international success like Heated Rivalry, North of North, Schitt’s Creek and Kim’s Convenience. “Yet many of the stars on those shows aren’t celebrated until they have had the popularity stamp of approval from the U.S.,” she says.

The solution, according to the experts, is a targeted approach that starts with government recognition and funding to support Canadian productions and performers. “The federal government must look at our multibillion-dollar industry as more than just a ‘nice-to-have’ frill,” Noble explains. “Instead, it must be treated with the same robust policies and funding given to traditional manufacturing and industrial sectors. We would contribute far more to the nation’s GDP if we created demand by supporting a star system that fed on our own national pride.”

Williams says the infrastructure around supporting individual performers also needs to change. Interestingly, most Canadian actors have only agents, not managers. “The reason athletes and singers have that fandom is because they are represented by not just agents but managers,” she says. “A manager is not someone who just looks for your next gig. A manager is strategizing and shaping the next 50 years of your career.”

More investment in marketing Canadian production and its stars is also needed, according to Williams. She points to the success of Heated Rivalry, whose leads were previously unknown, as an example of pre-release marketing done right. “They started the promotion of their actors well before the first episode dropped,” says Williams. “By the first episode dropping, there was a frenzy of fans because they had been building up who these actors were, what they did in the makeup, hair, wardrobe, how they exercised. They built this momentum.”

Looking to Korea for inspiration

Research and data can also be used to make strategic decisions about what movies and shows to create. “Understand our audience, what they want and who they want, so that decisions are based on evidence and not instinct,” Williams explains. “In L.A. and Korea, there are huge departments where their only jobs are: ‘What is the audience watching? Why are they watching? How do we create content that is what they want?’”

The extremely successful fan culture in Korea, evidenced by K-pop’s huge following, is a great example of a star system done right, according to Williams. “I have been so impressed with what Korea has done in the last 20 years with their star system, and it didn't just happen haphazardly,” she says. “Massive management companies find talent when they're young and groom them in music and dance. They help build private financing for projects because that’s also what managers do in Hollywood.”

If a star system isn’t built in Canada, Noble says Canadian talent will become even more reliant on the U.S. to have successful careers. “But it’s time to move on from that mentality,” she says. “We must be the ones to elevate Canadian performers to stardom and stop waiting for the U.S. to decide for us who is ‘worthy’ of such status.”

Williams has a more dire outlook if a star system isn’t built in Canada. “We'll just be wiped off the map,” she says.

But she prefers to focus on the positive and what the industry in Canada could look like in five, 10 or 20 years if a proper star system is built and supported. “What it would look like is buyers from around the world in a bidding war for the content we make in Canada,” she says. “They clamour for Canadian stars. Wouldn't that be lovely? We will end up needing to make more movies and series because the demand is there. That will bring national pride.”

The post Why Canada needs a star system appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

A new role is emerging on film and TV sets. Psychologists and mental health professionals are joining forces with directors to handle their teams’ psychological health. The job, which can be complex, is just starting to find its place within the Canadian screen industry.

In a Montreal studio, a video crew is getting ready. Monitors are set up on a folding table and four cameras point toward the chair where a guest will soon sit. Content creator Xavier Watso enters, all smiles. “Big shoot!” he exclaims.

I explain to him why I’m here, on the set of Mental Health in Focus. While he takes part in the Canada Media Fund-produced documentary series on mental health, I’ll be observing Sophie Brive’s work. She’s a clinical psychologist who specializes in film shoots for both fiction and documentary projects.

“I don’t think I’m going to use her very much,” he says, with an apologetic smile.

He’s right. In the 15 minutes he spends sharing his experience as an Indigenous content creator, notably discussing hateful messages he’s received, he never once turns toward the psychologist. She remains in the background, concentrating, wearing a headset connected to the monitor.

Brive was hired to meet the participants in advance, and then advise the production team on how to word questions. “Instead of asking, ‘What was your most difficult moment,’ it’s ‘What were the obstacles you met along the way, related to your identity,’” she explains. “We prioritize choices, rather than demands.”

Although he didn’t consult Brive, Watso thinks having someone like her on set could be useful.

“You know, a lot of production teams don’t care about the other person at all,” he says. “They just want to get the clip, capture the emotion that’s going to sell, at the expense of the guest, while here it’s the opposite.”

Crucial work, but still not common

Few psychologists offer these services. Brive has participated in a dozen Quebec productions since 2021, including the series Les météorites, where she supported an actor playing a victim of domestic violence, which brought up the actor’s own experiences. “She needed a lot of emotional support between two scenes,” Brive remembers. “She cried, I comforted her, we breathed, we emptied everything out, and we reset. That allowed her to reshoot the scene without having to stop production.”

The goal of this work is never to hinder the project, she says. “I work with the director, and I want their film to be what they want it to be,” says Brive, who adds it’s important to create conditions where everyone can feel good.

Alice Ride, founder of Set Protect, a Canadian organization that offers support for psychological health and safety in the entertainment industry, says implementing mental health resources on film sets has been slow to gain traction.

Set Protect offers eight therapists and certified mental health counsellors, as well as 15 professionals who are on call for interventions, if necessary. But the demand could be greater. Ride points to the lack of information about available resources, and the constraints of tight budgets. She insists, however, that support can be tailored to different needs and financial situations.

Psychologists can also be called in to defuse tense situations or even resolve conflicts within production teams. A new role has emerged on set — the mental health coordinator, similar to an intimacy coordinator.

“So it could look like somebody’s on set and they’re available to talk to anyone at any time,” says Ride. “The main difference is that mental health coordinators become part of the crew, whereas a counsellor is brought in specifically for one pass, one event or one shoot day that’s traumatizing.”

Documentary and reality TV sets are better equipped

Ride says the Canadian documentary sector is more motivated to use psychological services than other parts of the industry because of the impacts its sensitive content can have on participants. She points to the Documentary Organization of Canada (DOC). After publishing the DocuMentality report in 2023, about issues affecting mental health in the sector, DOC started allocating a budget for mental health care.

The demand is also strong in reality TV. “They almost all have psychologists now,” says Dania Ramirez, a clinical psychologist who specializes in supporting contestants on reality TV productions.

She’s worked on several popular French-language reality TV shows, including Occupation Double, Star Académie and L’île de l’amour (a French version of Love Island). She’s also working on a reality TV show out this fall, Complètement dans le champ, where content creators work on a farm for two weeks.

When advising on cast selections, Ramirez doesn’t look for interesting personalities. Instead, in a meeting that lasts a little under an hour, she evaluates whether the person is prepared to have a seriously stressful experience. “We identify the person’s possible fragilities, how they function, and their capacity to adapt,” she says. “It’s already happened where I’ve said, ‘This person is really too fragile.’ The production always makes the final decision, but I’ve never raised red flags that weren’t taken into consideration.”

Ramirez remains available throughout the production for telehealth sessions. For example, she may be called in to de-escalate a group conflict, as happened in 2022 for Occupation Double Martinique. She was rushed to the set when a bullying scandal rocked the production to the extent that backers pulled out and several contestants were let go.

“Ideally, if we’re supporting the participants, we shouldn’t support the production team as well, to avoid conflicts of interest. These are different roles that should be held by different psychologists,” says Ramirez.

The return to real life can also be tough for reality TV contestants, so sessions are scheduled with the psychologist. They’re brief, but the goal isn’t to resolve everything; instead Ramirez explains they’re trying to “de-dramatize things, re-contextualize what it meant to participate in the show.” If the needs are larger, the person can be referred to other resources.

Best practices for set psychologists

Everyone interviewed agrees that set psychologists’ roles and boundaries need to be clearly defined from the beginning, to respect the profession’s ethical framework.

It would be helpful to establish a specific framework for film sets within professional organizations; something Ramirez is trying to do with the Ordre des psychologues du Québec (Quebec Order of Psychologists).

Ride notes that WorkSafeBC, British Columbia’s provincial organization responsible for health and safety at work, has proposed a new rule to integrate the management of psychosocial risks for all employers in the province, including those in the film and television production sector. A public consultation is currently underway on this subject.

For the rest, Ride wants more research on the importance of psychological support in the workplace to be done in North America, to raise awareness of needs, and to then formulate policy, both in production environments and with governments.

The post Profession: set psychologist appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

Abenaki producer Julie O’Bomsawin and her production studio Kassiwi Média deliver their very first Indigenous series for youth, Nish. O’Bomsawin tells us why she’s so proud of this ambitious project and explains the challenges of getting it made.

Upon graduating from L'Université du Québec à Montréal, better known as UQAM, in the early 2000s, Julie O’Bomsawin had a clear goal in mind. “I always say I do what I do out of respect for those who came before me, and to create a path for future generations,” shares the producer from the W8banaki of Odanak Nation. After graduation she kept thinking about her grandfather’s stories, which reminded her how laws and discrimination had smothered Indigenous identities and cultures for decades.

To give voice to those stories, she chose a path rarely travelled by people from her community: cinema and television.

After working as an assistant director and script supervisor on numerous projects, in 2015 O’Bomsawin started her own production company, Kassiwi Média. “The reason I became a producer wasn’t to produce, but because there were stories I wanted to see on screen that I didn’t see,” she says. “And so I thought, what could be better than producing them myself, allowing them to come to life?”

After producing a few documentaries and her first feature film, Captain, released earlier this year, O’Bomsawin is proud to release her most recent production, the youth series Nish. Financed with support from the Canada Media Fund, the series is available on September 22 on Tou.tv, with dates for Radio-Canada and the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network (APTN) to follow.

Focusing on Indigenous kids’ daily lives

Adapted from a series of novels by the Wendat author Isabelle Picard, Nish means “two” in the Innu language. The show recounts the lives of twins Éloïse and Léon, who live out in the middle of nature in Matimekosh, in Quebec’s Côte-Nord region. The title also refers to their two Indigenous identities, as their father is a local Innu man, while their mother comes from the Wendake community in Quebec City.

“We don’t see a lot of these young people in Indigenous series, at least not in Quebec,” says O’Bomsawin. “I think it’s important, because it’s an age where identity forms. I see this adolescence as being quite radiant. These are young people dreaming to the beat of the area’s rhythm, playing hockey, experiencing their first loves, friendships, school, like all young people today.”

The challenges of shooting in the Innu language and community

O’Bomsawin is particularly happy that, while the series was shot in French, 20 percent of its dialogue is in the Innu language, a first for Quebec television. (APTN will present a version entirely dubbed in Innu.)

For the production to come together, they had to overcome several obstacles, starting with casting. It was impossible to imagine non-Indigenous actors playing the roles, so the team had to do a lot of groundwork. After hosting general auditions over video, the team went to Côte-Nord in search of potential actors. They decided to cast young Jean-Luc Shapatu Vollant and Emma Rankin, both originally from the region, to play the two main characters.

“The real challenge for a series is to have all these wonderful people become a family,” explains O’Bomsawin. “And so, before shooting, we got them together not just for a general rehearsal, but to create an opportunity to meet each other. When people have less experience you need to be sure the chemistry works. Everyone has their strengths, and things they have to work on so the series is believable and touches people.”

Another challenge was the distance. As the majority of Indigenous communities are in distant areas, shooting on site quickly increases production costs. Since Nish was filmed in Matimekosh, Pessamit (near Baie-Comeau), and Wendake, the financing was complicated, even before you consider that part of the story takes place in snow. You have to be open to compromises, like operating with a smaller team.

The process was long, but O’Bomsawin kept the faith. “At the beginning of the project so many people said to me, ‘How are you going to do it?’ And I said, ‘Well, we’re going to do things one step at a time, and we’ll get there.’ It’s important this series exists, that it has an impact, and that young people can watch it and recognize themselves.”

Training the next Indigenous wave for the TV industry

While applauding recent advances in the quantity and quality of Indigenous content, O’Bomsawin is conscious that, more than ever, TV production requires unyielding passion. That’s why she committed herself to the industry, to facilitate financing for stories both fictional and documentary. She firmly believes in the strength of the collective, and the path she’s chosen.

“Television is powerful. It’s an exceptionally strong medium because you can stumble onto us without having planned to watch. When we enter into people’s living rooms, when they pause on a project we made and we move them with a story, I find something incredible in that, in our ability to understand each other.”

For her, production is a true calling. It allows her to reflect contemporary Indigenous realities, and also to amplify voices, allowing artists from the First Nations, Inuit and Métis people to gain experience.

“I’ve never counted my hours,” she says. “When I founded Kassiwi Média I was the only First Nations person on the team. I built from the ground up and the goal is for us to grow. Kassiwi means ‘together.’ So I try to train up the next wave to the best of my abilities so the pool of Indigenous professionals grows. My dream is for there to be a full Indigenous team one day. It’s not possible yet, unfortunately, but we’re working hard on it.”

The post With ‘Nish’, Julie O’Bomsawin gives Indigenous youth TV a big boost appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

At 36 years old, comedian Arnaud Soly realizes he’s older than he feels. From the TV of his childhood to today’s streaming and online content, he’s watched the entertainment landscape transform. Now, as part of the Canada Media Fund/Telefilm campaign C’est à NOUS!, he’s inspiring young people to discover content, old and new, that was made right here.

Even though Arnaud Soly has “cut the cord” at home, screens still play an important role in his life. He's catching up on several Quebec TV series and discovering children's shows with his 4- and 6-year-old daughters. When his busy life as a father allows, he goes to the Beaubien Cinema, a few steps from his Montreal home.

“Even if technology has completely changed how we consume content, I still watch a lot of what’s made here,” he says. “I think it’s because I belong to a generation that grew up with [the now defunct] Canal Famille and VRAK.TV, and got the internet later.”

Viewing habits have changed since the demise of those TV channels, especially for young people. According to the report Québec Survey on Cultural Leisure and Entertainment, which was completed by the Institut de la statistique du Québec in 2024, 64 percent of Quebecers aged 15 to 29 primarily watch TV content that’s not from Quebec.

So it made sense for Soly, a comedian and content creator who’s popular with Quebec teens and millennials, to become the spokesperson for the online discovery campaign C’est à NOUS! (It’s OURS!), created by the Canada Media Fund in partnership with Telefilm Canada to help people find Canadian content.

“The mission of showcasing work from here is completely aligned with my values,” he says. “For me, it’s important to support our [film and TV] industry because it’s unique, and it really is a part of our culture.”

From newcomer to big brother

For the past few days, Soly has been posting short, funny videos to social media (both his own and the campaign’s) that riff off memorable scenes and characters from beloved Canadian films, series and video games. He’s putting the spotlight on older gems that made an impression on him, and new content that’s caught his eye.

He’s not the only one. Soly is joined by content creators Douaa Kachache, Emy Lalune, Pascale de Blois, Thomas Bédard, Tommy-Lee Salvas, Zoé Duval and Rosalie Vaillancourt (the spokesperson for the previous NOUS campaign), who are creating similar videos, sometimes solo, and sometimes as group sketches.

You can watch the first videos here, here and here.

“I’m happy to collaborate with this digital team, which I like, and I find funny and bright. I’ve been doing comedy for almost 10 years. I was always the kid, the internet guy. It wasn’t until recently that I realized I’ve acquired a certain notoriety, and I’m not really the newcomer anymore,” says the man who was named Discovery of the Year at the 2021 Olivier Awards Gala, which celebrates Quebec’s comedy industry.

Soly sees his fellow content creators as allies who can speak to young people and have a good grasp of online norms. With their help, he can reach audiences traditional publicity campaigns can’t.

“Young people don’t watch as much TV anymore, so they don’t necessarily see the ads for a series or film,” says Soly. “Today, a series often has to use the internet to reach us. And to create engagement there needs to be an online conversation about it, as was the case for Empathie and Vitrerie Joyal, among others.”

Humour as a way in

When he wants to get a reaction, Soly draws on his strengths — impersonations, dubbing, fake commercials and parodies. “Humour is a tone that works really well on social media; it can be short and catchy,” he says. “I think it’s a great way into our culture.”

Soly should know. He won Humorous Web Sketch of the Year for his parody Arnaud Jolicoeur, courtier hypothécaire (Arnaud Jolicoeur, mortgage broker) at the 2025 Olivier Gala. And his parody show, Club Soly, boosted his popularity on network TV and online.

“For the C’est à NOUS! campaign, though, I didn’t want to impose any judgements, or demonize American Netflix content, like Stranger Things. One doesn’t exclude the other,” he says. “Instead, I wanted young people to say, ‘Oh, I didn’t see this Canadian series,’ or ‘I don’t get the references from this Quebecois film, but it looks good and that makes me want to know more.’”

Changing cultural habits

Soly knows it’s difficult to change cultural habits overnight. He thinks part of the solution is to foster a love of local content from childhood, with help from parents. “The more kids learn about work from here at an early age, the more they’ll want to watch it growing up. These habits are going to stick with them for a long time,” he says.

He’s seen this phenomenon with his own kids, who are big Télé-Québec viewers, and even with his friend’s teenagers, who listen to albums by the 1970s French-Canadian rock band Harmonium, thanks to influence from friends and family.

“In Canada, and especially in Quebec, we really have our own culture, a culture that strikes a chord with us and allows us to recognize ourselves on screen,” he says. “It’s important to take care of it.”

The post Arnaud Soly uses humour to promote our culture   appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

We catch up with the creators and stars of the hit comedy North of North and find out what to expect in the second season, including a trip south, and why they think their Inuit-led series resonates with viewers worldwide.

Sitting across from North of North’s showrunners, Alethea Arnaquq-Baril and Stacey Aglok MacDonald, and executive producer Miranda de Pencier, you see three grateful women.

The first season of their uplifting comedy set in the fictional Inuit community of Ice Cove charmed audiences and critics alike. Airing on CBC Gem, APTN and Netflix (the latter reported the show cracked its top 10 in 33 countries and earned almost 9 million global views in its first few months), North of North earned a coveted 100 percent fresh score from critics on Rotten Tomatoes.

A few hours after finishing this interview, the team won Best Comedy Series at this year’s Canadian Screen Awards, one of nine wins from among their 20 nominations.

But, right now, North of North’s cast and creators are here at this downtown Toronto hotel to talk to the press about what happens next.

Season two hits small screens in September, starting with APTN+ on September 1, followed by CBC TV, CBC Gem and APTN TV on September 8.

One wonders if the team is feeling the pressure of high expectations.

“I felt so much pressure season one, making a brand-new thing and not knowing how our community would react to it, or whether the world would even care,” says Arnaquq-Baril.

“Well, the one pressure is we got that 100 percent Rotten Tomatoes critics’ score in season one, so now it’s ‘aaahhh,’” adds de Pencier with a laugh.

“This season was a lot more fun and easier,” continues Arnaquq-Baril. “Not that it was easy, but we felt like we were going to die in season one [laughs]. This season we were really able to enjoy the process. To know who we were working with and how much they care about the show and care about the vision we have to try and make it what it is.”

“We are still leading with comedy and heart,” adds Aglok MacDonald. “I think a major thing for us is, as much as we love to laugh, we love to feel things and explore things that are real in our lives that aren’t just fun and antics but have real stakes to them. So that’s something we are maintaining in tone throughout season two.”

Moving beyond Ice Cove

Filmed in Iqaluit, Nunavut, the series follows irrepressible Siaja (Anna Lambe), a young wife and mother who makes the bold decision to leave her self-obsessed husband Ting (Kelly William) to carve out her own path in the world. Juggling childcare, the opinions of her harsh mother Neevee (Maika Harper) and working for the community she loves, Siaja is a combination of beloved TV characters Leslie Knope and Lucy Ricardo — a well-meaning community leader who gets herself into sticky situations.

The new season [SPOILER ALERT!] sees Siaja leave Ice Cove and head south in search of the sister she never knew she had.

For lead actors Lambe and Harper, the secret-sister plot development (revealed in the first season’s final episode) surprised them as much as it did viewers. The pair was on hand for the press day, not knowing they, too, would walk away as winners at the Canadian Screen Awards later that night. Lambe earned the prize for Best Lead Performer (Comedy) and Harper picked up the Best Supporting Performer (Comedy) award.

“So much of the plot was kept under wraps and you would find out as you went along with the scripts,” says Lambe. “So finding out about the sister reveal I was crying and shaking, and I remember texting Stacey and Alethea and Miranda and saying, ‘Guys, whaaa! Oh my god.’”

“It was so much fun to learn about that big revelation because we really didn’t know what was going to happen, as we were reading scripts as we went,” adds Harper. “And I think we were also learning our tone as well; we weren't quite sure about the tone yet, so all of it was a learning curve.”

One of the show’s strongest elements is the relationship between Siaja and Neevee. Siaja wants her mother to open up emotionally while Neevee purposely holds back her feelings. Theirs is a complicated mother-daughter relationship, giving the actors so much to work with and explore together.

“Siaja and Neevee are so different, such different characters, such different people,” says Lambe. “But the vibration they operate at is so similar in intensity and emotion. And they are so bound by love, and they just express it so differently. I feel us showing up always ready to match each other’s energy with complete and full trust in one another makes working together so easy.”

“I think our two characters are so vulnerable together, so whenever we work together we’re ready to play ball,” adds Harper.

Season two ranges from melodrama to “clownlike comedy”

Siaja and Neevee’s journeys will undoubtedly take twists and turns this season. We wonder what new avenues the actors were most excited to explore.

“I think you really get to see where Siaja gets her clumsiness from,” Harper says with a smile.

“I was really excited that I got to lean so much into the drama,” reveals Lambe. “Drama is my bread and butter. I love it. It’s what started my career and one of the things I really enjoy diving into.

“I know some people find it so lame, but I love melodrama, I think it’s great,” she continues. “So, getting to lean so heavily into the emotions of this season and having so much space for it, and then also doing the intense, almost clownlike comedy of it all. There’s so much range.”

Range is exactly what we’re seeing with the breadth of high-quality series being produced by Canadian creators at the moment. Shows such as North of North, Heated Rivalry, Empathie and others raise the bar for the shows that follow.

So, what is the secret sauce being poured into our shows that’s making them so good?

“I think Canada’s good at being funny and making people feel feelings and caring about each other,” says Arnaquq-Baril. “Canada invests in its culture, too. We have a publicly funded arts system, and I think that is why we punch above our weight on the global stage.”

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To stay relevant to teens, Télé-Québec is evolving its MAMMOUTH brand — previously known for broadcasting specials to young audiences — for a new era. With MAMMOUTH: le studio, Quebec’s public broadcaster is abandoning televised galas in favour of social media content. We look at how and why they made the shift.

On YouTube and TikTok, MAMMOUTH: le studio’s shorts are gradually becoming a regular part of Quebec teens’ digital habits. In one, young Noura takes a trip to a clothing store and comments on outfits as she tries them on between aisles. In another, Ryad shares five tips for taking part in sports while on a five-kilometre run.

Previously, the MAMMOUTH brand was best known for the year-end gala La Soirée MAMMOUTH, an annual show for young people that ran on Télé-Québec, Quebec’s public educational broadcaster, from 2017 to 2024 and celebrated the events and issues of that year with sketches, parodies and musical performances.

Since March, the new Télé-Québec project MAMMOUTH: le studio has instead provided an incubator for 10 young people, including Noura and Ryad, to take their first digital steps while learning from industry professionals. Together, they form the first cohort of MAMMOUTH: le studio.

Selected through a competition launched in collaboration with Quebec-based media group URBANIA, these budding content creators share their perspectives on YouTube and TikTok, platforms they’re already using daily. Over the course of a year, they will explore diverse themes — from humour to history to cooking — using language and references specific to their generation.

The goal is to reach 13- to 17-year-olds with content that emphasizes interaction and an exchange of ideas.

“The MAMMOUTH brand has existed since 2017,” explains Marysol Charbonneau, director of youth and family programming for Télé-Québec. “It’s known different iterations over the years, including La Soirée MAMMOUTH and the Bal MAMMOUTH [a virtual prom broadcast for high school grads during COVID]. Although we’ve had success with these televised gatherings, they were mostly reaching families and young adults. To reach teens, we had to reinvent the brand without abandoning MAMMOUTH’s core values, which are about developing civic awareness.”

Teens are abandoning traditional media

MAMMOUTH’s repositioning is part of a larger transformation in the industry — teenagers are mostly abandoning traditional media in favour of digital platforms. According to a 2024 study from the University of Laval, 80 percent of Quebecers aged 13 to 17 watch videos online, and 81 percent have at least one social media account.

“Young people love social media because it gives them a feeling of control and independence; they can choose when, where, with whom and how they consume content,” says Nina Duque, a lecturer in the Department of Social and Public Communication at the University of Quebec in Montreal, and a researcher of adolescents’ digital practices.

“That’s where they test out their choices and construct their identity at a stage in their lives where they want to detach themselves from the family unit,” she says.

Another reason young people rarely watch linear television is that they no longer recognize themselves in it, says Duque. “Why would young people want to suddenly swap their cellphone for a TV that doesn’t move,” she asks. “The content is now integrated [into their digital universe], and that’s never going away.”

What teens want to hear

What are young people looking for on social media that they don’t find elsewhere? Spontaneous content that doesn’t seem staged or overly dramatic, says Duque.

“Teenagers don’t want to feel there’s an adult behind the words, and even less an adult trying to grab their attention with a line like, ‘Hey, you, kid!’” she says. “Instead, they want to hear something more confessional like, ‘Have you heard what happened to me today? It was completely crazy…’”

In response to these generational differences, MAMMOUTH: le studio focuses on accessible, spontaneous videos that relate to teenagers’ daily lives. “These are young people talking to other young people, so we don’t want to sterilize their messages or correct their mistakes in French,” says Charbonneau. “Anglicisms are part of their identity because the French language evolves according to immigration and the influences of globalization.”

The recruits also have a lot of freedom in the editorial process and their subject matter, though they are advised by a producer, called “nounou” (“nanny”), and a content manager from Télé-Québec.

“We don’t want to decide for them what interests them, concerns them, and makes them laugh,” says David Ostigny, director of editorial and social content at Télé-Québec. “If we impose our vision of what young people should like we risk making a mistake.”

And, contrary to popular belief, teenagers do like to learn and understand. Duque insists they are perfectly capable of watching long videos on YouTube, especially in the evenings, in their rooms, when they find a video that fits their needs. During the day, they tend toward a more fragmented, rapid consumption of content on social media, especially TikTok, a platform where 40 percent of Quebecers between the ages of six and 17 have an account, according to a joint investigation conducted by federal and provincial commissions for the protection of private life that was launched in 2023.

A new network logic

Traditionally, public broadcasters provided content on a fixed schedule hoping to attract viewers to their channels. Today, they have to be where their audiences are, on diverse platforms, at the right moment, and with relevant content.

In this diffuse model where everyone consumes and shares information, Duque says a broadcaster’s goal isn’t to reach all teenagers, it’s more about reaching influential teenagers who are capable of circulating content widely amongst their community.

Ostigny says that, since its launch, MAMMOUTH: le studio has reached its target audience.

The proof is in the comments from young consumers and the number of views, which surpass 100,000 for some TikTok videos. The next steps are aimed at increasing the project’s visibility and developing a loyal audience by using recurring personalities.

“There will be a second cohort of content creators next year, with the possible return of some previous ones. But it’s not our only conversation with 13- to 17-year-olds; other new initiatives will follow,” says Ostigny, without being able to elaborate at this time.

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A musical drama from Quebec took a risk by placing a trans teenager at the heart of a young adult series. Here, FEM’s director Marianne Farley and producer Patrick Bilodeau discuss telling this story in the current climate, and the challenges of reaching a young audience.

In 2024, FEM did something very few young adult series had dared. It placed a trans teenager’s emancipation at the centre of its story.

Television has certainly featured some noteworthy trans characters in recent years — especially in Euphoria — but few series have offered a role as central as Zav, a 16-year-old Franco-Ontarian musician who dreams of attending the Conservatory of Music while secretly exploring his female identity. Created in Quebec, the series is currently streaming on TV5+ (formerly Unis TV) and Netflix (season one at the moment).

FEM director Marianne Farley says that since a significant percentage of the population is LGBTQ+ there should be no question about shows like FEM getting made. "We have a right to our own content too, to make projects that are for us."

While the subject matter was already daring in 2024, series producer Patrick Bilodeau says it’s even more so today, given the rising intolerance toward trans identity and the LGBTQ+ community. “It’s changed internationally in the past two years,” he says. “People are fearful, they know this will provoke a reaction, it will make people talk. They don’t really want to go there.”

None of this has discouraged Bilodeau or FEM's production company, UGO Média, even though Bilodeau admits focusing on more conventional projects would be easier. Instead, UGO Média went ahead with a second season of FEM, which can now be watched for free on TV5+.

The Rhythm of Trans Identity

In the show’s second season, which, like the first season, was created and co-written by Maxime Beauchamp, Zav (played by actor/singer/songwriter Lennikim) is now a young trans woman who has come out of the closet and is trying to find her place in the music industry. Zav has left the small Franco-Ontarian town of Lanark for the Montreal scene, and left her real friends for the big personalities who populate the city’s performing arts and nightlife.

Many viewers found the first season particularly moving, sending enthusiastic and often touching messages to FEM’s creative team.

“We really saw season two as chapter two. Now we’re in a different place. We’re out in the nightlife, at musical performances, in clubs, and exploring the expression of femininity,” Bilodeau says.

Over 10 episodes, Zav questions what kind of woman she is, and what being a woman represents for her, even if that means losing herself in her search for identity. The music, which accompanies her exploration of gender identity, becomes another character in this story.

“We wanted to go darker,” Farley says. “The music is very urban; it’s more techno. We used influences that were more hip-hop and trip-hop.”

Streaming on Netflix

After the release of FEM’s first season, Netflix reached out to UGO Média about acquiring the show. Finding an international streaming service was essential for the Quebec production studio since Canadians were the only ones who could access the show on TV5+.

“It definitely gives you a nice pat on the back, it gives credibility to the project,” Bilodeau says. “And you say, ‘Dang, that means something!’”

Netflix has the ability to make the series discoverable to young adults who often shun local platforms and content in favour of the American heavyweights. According to the Observatoire de la culture et des communications du Québec (OCCQ), in 2024, 64 percent of Quebecers aged 15 to 29 primarily watched content from outside of Quebec.

“Not only are they not on Quebecois platforms, but they don’t even know about them,” laments Bilodeau.

So how do you get young adults to be interested in series made here? For director Farley, one way is through the content you’re offering.

“You have to take risks,” Farley says. “I think you shouldn’t be paternalistic, shouldn’t try to teach them how to be adults. Young adult series should be about what interests young people and not what adults think would interest young people. I think that’s what makes FEM so strong, as well. We stay close to the characters, who experience real-life dramas.”

No Third Season

The second season of FEM will be its last. The creative trio, composed of creator and showrunner Beauchamp, director Farley, and producer Bilodeau, are not done working together, however. They’re working on a new series that’s currently in predevelopment.

“We’re eager to take on a new project,” says Bilodeau. “We’re maintaining a certain continuity, as this will also be a really unique series bursting with plot twists, but in a completely different universe.”

He describes the series as a fake reality-TV show in which couples compete to win a revolutionary fertility treatment that allows anyone to conceive a baby with their own DNA. Once again, the new project will proudly showcase the LGBTQ+ community, regardless of any pushback.

The post ‘FEM’ creators offer a fresh take on the trans experience appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

When the Jean brothers — writer/director Anderson and actor Fayolle Jr. — combined forces, the result was the Young Adult series Jumelles (Twins). It’s an inspiring story about family, both on screen and off.

The Jean brothers, Anderson and Fayolle Jr., witnessed the evolution of diversity in Quebec’s TV industry up close.

Their father, Fayolle Jean, who is originally from Haiti, was one of the first Afro-descendant actors in the province. He inspired many artists, including his sons, to follow in his footsteps. Young Fayolle Jr., who loved to visit his father backstage on set, became an actor in his early 20s, while Anderson was more interested in directing. From film to drawing, poetry to acting, all five Jean children are artistic. Behind the scenes, their mother made sure each of them could follow their dreams.

One of those dreams has now come true with the Young Adult series Jumelles (Twins), the family’s most important group project to date. It will be available online via Tou.tv Extra starting June 11.

“It’s the sort of thing you can’t even dream of,” exclaims an excited Fayolle Jr.

Double Standard

Produced by KOTV, with financial support from the Canada Media Fund, the series follows 14-year-old twin sisters who were born to parents of different races. An extremely rare condition sets the twins apart — one is born with Black skin, the other with white. Until now, the twins hadn’t paid much attention to this difference, but the death of a Black woman during a police stop makes them question their identity and the unequal way they’re viewed by society.

Anderson Jean co-wrote the screenplay with Marie-Élène Grégoire and Marie-Hélène Lebeau-Taschereau, who won an International Emmy this fall for La médiatrice (The Mediator). Jean came up with the idea after seeing the same type of twins on the cover of National Geographic.

“It was around the time of George Floyd,” he recalls, “and I thought it would be interesting to start the series with an event like that — twins who have the same parents, the same background, who come from the same place, and who, despite everything, are going to have a different life just because of the colour of their skin.”

Fayolle Jr. plays the teens’ father, an engaged parent who makes it his duty to educate his girls on equal terms. But the tragedy that’s all over the news makes them question everything.

“He never really talked to his daughters about difference because, for him, it was important to show we are equal. When this event happens, all these discussions start up about the colour of their skin, about opportunities…. With his Black daughter, and also with his white daughter. The Black twin delves into her Haitian side, but her sister, even though she’s white, also has a Haitian side. It’s an identity we don’t see, we don’t talk about, but it’s there.”

Expanded Family

Irlande Côté, who recently dazzled in Avant le crash (Before the Crash), and Keyla Mingot, in her first major role, play the twins.

Anderson Jean, who also directed one of the 13 episodes alongside Jean-Sébastien Lord, is delighted with the pairing. “They have the intimacy of two sisters who love each other very much. That’s important for the series. They get along really well, and they pleasantly surprised me as actresses, particularly Keyla, who didn’t have a lot of experience. Irlande also impressed me with her talent and her professionalism. I believe they are a family. There’s something magic that happened, even with the technical crew.”

And who better to contribute to this magic than the Jean family’s patriarch, Fayolle Jean, who also joined the cast. The other two Jean brothers (who happen to be twins) and their sister were also involved, working on editing, graphic design, acting or as extras.

“It’s funny because the only father I’ve had, in life and on TV, is my father,” exclaims Fayolle Jr., who’s always happy to play opposite his dad. “I also have a lot of admiration for my little brother. Acting in a series he wrote and created is truly extraordinary. I hope there will be many more.”

The Importance of Representation

The Jean brothers appreciate the increase in representation on major series over the past few years. Like many actors of African descent, both father and son have played criminals or taxi drivers.

“It’s wonderful to see series like Jumelles or Lakay Nou [which stars Fayolle Sr.] with actors of diverse backgrounds in leading roles,” says Fayolle Jr. “It allows young people to see themselves without necessarily having to go on Netflix. We need to see ourselves, all of Quebec, from diverse backgrounds. It’s important.”

And for the Jeans, seeing such representations early in life is even better. That’s why Jumelles was developed for kids aged 9 to 12, though it has appeal for all ages. “We have a tendency to underestimate the emotional maturity of young people,” Anderson explains. “Even if the concept is serious, it’s a really sunny series in terms of sisterhood, friendship…. We talk about racial challenges and the search for identity, but in a positive way.”

Fayolle Jr. agrees. “What I find different from other Young Adult series is that we’re talking about racism, police violence, identity, parenting.… We find the right words and the right way to talk to young people, while keeping it light. There’s a lot of talk dividing us at the current moment, and we have to showcase that we are one single, beautiful country. We need to be able to talk about our differences, listen to each other, and learn from other people.”

The post French-Language series about twins “Jumelles” is a true family affair appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

After two hit films, the Bon Cop, Bad Cop franchise comes to TV in a six-episode series, partially shot in Gesgapegiag with the Mi'kmaq First Nation community. Meet Mi’kmaq screenwriter Quentin Condo, who inspired his friends Patrick Huard and Anik Jean to tell this particular story, and helped them get it right.

To find the source of the new Bon Cop, Bad Cop TV series, you have to act like a salmon and swim upstream. Specifically, to the Cascapédia River, which flows into Chaleur Bay, between Maria and New Richmond, on the Gaspé Peninsula, or Gaspésie.

It’s there, while learning to fish, that director/singer Anik Jean came across an old classmate, Quentin Condo, a Mi’kmaq Nation artist who was working as a fishing guide. Jean and Condo crossed paths while attending secondary school together in Bonaventure but they didn’t really know each other. Over time, during the summers, they developed a strong friendship. And since our friends’ partners often become our friends, Condo and Jean’s husband, Patrick Huard, star/writer of both Bon Cop, Bad Cop movies, also got along extremely well.

It was while fishing, and sometimes sipping scotch, that the idea of creating a Bon Cop, Bad Cop storyline that takes place in the neighbouring Gesgapegiag community emerged. “We started talking about it 10 years ago, after the second film,” says Condo, now 47, at a café in Quebec’s Eastern Townships.

“Patrick and I clicked as friends, but he didn’t really know the people in our community,” Condo recalls. “When I told him what was happening, he asked questions and said it would be cool if, one day, we did a Bon Cop, Bad Cop with a First Nations plot.”

Knowing How to Navigate

Much water flowed downstream before the creative team finally got a bite. Then, about two years ago, the telephone rang. The project was going to move forward with financial support from the Canada Media Fund. First hired as a consultant, Condo quickly joined the writing team and later helped with casting and scouting locations.

For the idea to work, it needed to have the full approval of the First Nations peoples, including in Gesgapegiag. The son of a former chief and himself the former vice-chief of the area, Condo became a key player in the project’s success.

“The first thing we did was meet all the Quebec chiefs,” he says. “There are 43 communities in the Assembly of First Nations Quebec-Labrador (AFNQL). I called Ghislain Picard, [who was then] the regional chief for Quebec. I wanted to be sure everyone was in agreement, because we wanted to have an AFNQL scene in the series. I wanted everyone to have a role, and I didn’t want to have any problems with any other nations.”

Condo then went to Gesgapegiag to get the green light from council and go door-to-door through the community to make sure its members were behind him. “That’s how it works. You have to be really open because if something doesn’t work, everything can shut down.”

He quickly felt the community’s enthusiasm.

“I thought it was going to be more difficult, but they were really happy to participate. Bon Cop, Bad Cop is very well known with the First Nations peoples. Patrick didn’t know that. There are several Mi’kmaq guides on the river, and everyone knew Pat. He saw the potential to do something with our community.”

A Nation in Action

Any good screenwriter’s first concern is that their story is believable. And when a franchise rests on clashes between cultures — like the Bon Cop, Bad Cop franchise, which was initially about the clash between Canada’s French and English cultures — it’s essential that everyone recognizes themselves.

“The most important thing for me was that the dialogue was as Indigenous as possible,” says Condo. “We have ways of saying things, a different style, like the Quebecois compared to other Canadians. We say a lot with silence. If a Quebecois person doesn’t like something, you’ll know it right away, but that’s less so with the Indigenous. They’re just going to respond with silence. We call that the ‘silent no.’”

Truth is also relayed through performance. There were close to a hundred Gesgapegiag Mi’kmaq people on set, who brought their community to life on screen with pleasure and pride. Many had never acted in front of a camera before, but according to Condo, finding good Indigenous actors isn’t difficult because they’re born storytellers. The hard part is choosing who to cast.

Prominent Quebecois actor Joshua Odjick (It: Welcome to Derry), from the Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg Nation, near Maniwaki, stars as the Gesgapegiag police chief opposite Patrick Huard, Henry Czerny, Christine Beaulieu and Sarah-Jeanne Labrosse. Nathaniel Arcand from the Plains Cree, who’s had success in both Canada and Hollywood, also plays a role, as does Condo’s son, Liam, who has acting experience.

“We’re starting to see a lot of Indigenous talent, actors from everywhere,” says Condo. “For people from the community, it’s natural to become actors. They’re so good, it’s incredible!”

Changing the World, One Project at a Time

Having a collaborator like Condo is a precious asset for a production team, but not all projects are so lucky. That’s when creators turn to the Indigenous Screen Office (ISO).

“The ISO is pleased to see the audiovisual sector making use of available resources to collaborate in meaningful ways with First Nations, Métis and Inuit communities,” says Jean-François D. O’Bomsawin, ISO’s Director of Marketing & Communications. “The publication On-Screen Protocols and Pathways serves as a reference guide, accessible to all on [our] website.”

In the Eastern Townships, productions can also consult the Gaspé Film and Television Council. As a member of the group’s board of directors, Condo is familiar with the impact a series like Bon Cop, Bad Cop has on the region, which he estimates to be approximately $600,000 — a significant contribution for hotel and restaurant owners and other retailers, especially in the off-season.

Condo continues to advocate for his people and his culture, as he did when he was vice-chief, but he does it differently today. When he’s not collaborating on collective projects, he’s showcasing his talent, social activism and Mi’kmaq heritage on stage as a hip-hop singer under the pseudonym Q052. “With the arts, we’re able to change the world,” he says. “Not necessarily with politics. Artists possess a truth that politicians will often conceal.”

Although he now lives in Hatley, in Quebec’s Estrie region, having followed his partner there, Gesgapegiag will always be his true home. (“Mala,” he says, his hand on his heart. It means “where I’m from” in Mi’kmaq.) In mid-April, the production rolled out the blue carpet in Gesgapegiag for an advance screening of the series that will be available to all on Crave starting May 7.

Condo is delighted that, all over Canada, audiences will be able to see his community from the inside, demystifying what happens there, giving a peek into various families (often large ones) so viewers can better understand their reality and the way they view society. All while entertaining people.

“We live in the same country and rarely speak to each other,” notes Condo. “I think in the end, the series shows more of the things we have in common. That’s what’s fun. We realize we’re all human beings, and we all have the same emotions.”

The post The Mi’kmaq man behind the “Bon Cop, Bad Cop” series appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

We catch up with the creative team behind the six-part series Hate the Player: The Ben Johnson Story, which takes a comedic look at the life and legacy of Canadian sprinter Ben Johnson. Find out why the story of Johnson’s fall from grace is told from his point of view, and why the team leaned into the laughs to tell this story.

Hate the Player. It’s a bio-pic. It’s a sports show. It’s an outrageous comedy. It’s a love letter to Jamaican Canadians. It’s a series that takes big swings and hits it out of the park.

The six-part production (currently streaming on Paramount+ Canada and GameTV) chronicles the life and career of Canada’s most revered, and then reviled, sprinter Ben Johnson, who won gold in the 100 metres at the 1988 Summer Olympics only to have it stripped away when he tested positive for steroids.

“[The show] is about putting some shine back on Ben's name,” says Hate the Player’s creator and showrunner Anthony Q. Farrell, “and talking about how we put him on this pedestal and then we knocked him off it. And then we started to beat the crap out of him with it. It’s about telling his story from his point of view.”

Farrell is speaking at the Black Screen Office (BSO) Symposium in Toronto, where Hate the Player’s creative team recently gathered to chronicle how the show came together and why it stands out in the media landscape. Farrell was joined by the now 64-year-old Ben Johnson, Hate the Player’s stars Shamier Anderson, who gives a stellar turn as Johnson, Karen Robinson who plays Johnson’s mother, Gloria, and executive producer and New Metric Media CEO Mark Montefiore.

Montefiore reveals it’s taken six years for Hate the Player to reach screens, and that it was originally conceived as a drama. However, telling the story as a drama wasn’t working, which is why he sought out comedy writer/director Farrell (The Office, Shelved).

Finding the Comedy

“We really wanted it to be funny,” Farrell explains. “Find the comedy, find the jokes. It's a Canadian story, it's a Black story, and one of the things that those two cultures know how to do is find comedy in things.”

The humour veers from subtle jabs at sports media and racist track officials to slapstick to all-out ridicule. Johnson’s archrival, American sprinter Carl Lewis, is skewered unmercifully, which posed a problem for the show as it could be construed as libelous. That’s where the character of Walter the lawyer, played by Mark McKinney, entered the picture.

“We were dealing with the legal team who didn't want us getting sued while we were making the show,” says Farrell. “One of the things they said was you need a counterpoint; someone who is telling the other side to the story that's not just Ben’s. So, we came up with this idea: What if I just take the stuff the lawyers are sending me and just put it in the show? What was funny is the lawyers, once they got the hang of Walter, they started writing for him. I was like, is that a legal note, or are you pitching? They said, ‘We're pitching,’ and I was like, ‘No, you do the legal thing. I'll decide what goes in,’” he says with a chuckle.

Becoming Ben Johnson

The weight of the show rests on the brawny shoulders of Anderson, who had only six weeks to get into shape to resemble the extraordinarily fit Johnson. Another challenge was portraying Johnson throughout his entire life, from childhood to a man in his 60s.

“I think it’s important to mention I chose not to meet Ben until 48 hours before going to camera,” reveals Anderson. “The reason for that is because Ben's a very different person now than he was back in his 20s, his 30s, his 40s. Thankfully, with YouTube and Google, there's a lot of resources out there for me to pull from. And then when I sat down with him it was less about me being a journalist interviewing him, but just connecting with his heart and seeing the human today.”

Johnson, a self-effacing and soft-spoken panelist, chimes in on their meeting.

“[Shamier] invited me to his house to have a meal and get to know each other. I know his Jamaican background, and we were looking at each other and we smiled. We smiled at each other because we have a connection. He played me perfectly — the way I speak sometimes, the way I move, and what I say. And like he said, it was short notice for him to get back in shape very quickly.”

A New Perspective

For veteran actor Karen Robinsion, Hate the Player was a unique comedic project that also allowed her to reflect on her past as a young Jamaican woman who moved to Canada as a teenager.

“Reading the script, my first reaction was this is absolutely bonkers,” she says, smiling. “It was just so completely unexpected and off the wall and ballsy. I thought they're really taking a chance with this one and I really need to be a part of it. In terms of why I thought it was an important story to tell, is because [when Johnson was stripped of the medal] I'd only been in this country for four years and I was in Calgary, and I remember white people coming up to me and saying, ‘So, how do you feel about what happened?’

“As a 20-year-old, my critical thinking skills weren’t developed enough to address that question in the way that I would now, and I realize I never asked myself what Ben's side of the story was. It was only about what I was reading and what I was hearing and how people were approaching me as the only Jamaican they knew and asking me how I felt about it. So, I feel like being asked to join the project I’ve been given an opportunity to explore that side of the story.”

Despite a tight budget and production window that meant Farrell had to make some cuts to the script, Hate the Player found its narrative tone and stayed true to it. It was a challenge but, as he tells us, the key to getting things made lies in being open to what comes your way.

“I think a lot of times as artists, we get to a place where it has to be this, it has to be that, it has to be this. No, be open. If you understand what the core of your vision is and you know what story you're trying to tell, there are a lot of different ways to tell it. Be open to the way the universe is aligning.”

The post Spinning Ben Johnson’s story into comedic gold appeared first on Canada Media Fund.

Content from Quebec has never had such a major presence, and been so highly anticipated, as it will be at this year’s edition of the prestigious Series Mania festival, which kicks off this week in France. Participants explain why the rest of the world is discovering our local savoir-faire.

There’s a strong wind blowing from Quebec that’s carrying our TV series around the world.

French-speaking people in countries far and wide have never been so enthusiastic about Quebecois television series. Take Lille, France, for example, where Series Mania takes place annually, the most prestigious gathering dedicated to television series in the world.

The 2026 edition — which takes place from March 20 to 27 — is welcoming the largest Quebecois delegation since the event’s creation in 2010, with some 120 members from our industry expected at the festival and its professional component.

It’s a banner year for Quebecois productions, with four series being selected out of a total 51 shows in all languages from 16 countries at the festival: Les Saturnides (Saturniids) and Ayer’s Cliff are being presented in the Short Forms Competition, Bienvenue à Kingston-Falls (Welcome to Kingston-Falls) is making its global debut in the International Panorama program, and Vitrerie Joyal (The Glass House) will close the festival.

By comparison, “a country like Spain is only presenting one series,” says François-Pier Pélinard Lambert, editor in chief of France’s entertainment magazine Le film français (French Film). Pélinard Lambert is responsible for choosing the festival’s selections from Quebec and says French producers’ enthusiasm for productions from the province is undeniable.

Behind the Enthusiasm

Empathie’s success obviously played a part in this heightened enthusiasm. Florence Longpré’s acclaimed series about a sensitive psychiatrist surprised audiences when it was presented at Series Mania last year, receiving a 13-minute standing ovation, as well as the Prix du public (Audience Award). Pélinard Lambert remembers the screening well; he introduced the series that day and recalls that “the stage was electric.”

“There was already a lot of interest in Quebecois series; it’s unfair to say nothing was happening before Empathie,” he says. “But something very specific happened here. The critics got excited, then the French film distributors got excited, and all wanted to buy the series, and then came popular success. We’re looking at something like 11 million views on Canal+, which got their hands on the series and co-produced Season 2, which is huge.”

Also worth reading: The World Yearns for More Empathie

Pélinard Lambert says there are several factors behind Quebec’s increased presence across the ocean.

For one, there are just more series being produced in Quebec, especially since Crave started running original francophone content. Long series are less common than short series, he notes, but the abundance of short series keeps more fresh content available. He also notes that Quebecois creators are more open than ever to the international market. “The great strength of the Quebecois people is in their North American logic; they’re here to do business,” he says.

Originality is an Asset

So, what sets Quebecois TV apart and piques the curiosity of international producers?

“Quebec series, quote unquote, have nothing to lose,” says Pélinard Lambert. “If their content doesn’t distinguish itself from everything coming from the United States, it doesn’t exist. So we see originality of subject matter, in addition to talented directors and consistently excellent performances from its actors.”

“Originality” is a term you often hear in reference to Quebec series. It’s also the word co-producer Isabelle Thiffault uses to describe Bienvenue à Kingston-Falls, which has its global premiere at Series Mania before coming to Tou.tv’s Extra starting May 7.

Also worth reading: Choosing the Right Festival

The police drama written, directed and co-produced by Robin Aubert follows Detective Gabriel Serpent (Maxime Le Flaguais) as he investigates a murder in a fictional Quebec village during an unspecified era. “Robin was inspired by all the archetypes and codes of police series, and he deconstructed them. The result is truly unique and extremely refreshing. Our series is different, there’s nothing else like it,” says Thiffault.

The tone is also very quirky, a mix of suspense, mystery and dark humour. “Lots of humour, and a profound humanity,” says the producer who works with Encore Television, the production studio that is also behind Vitrerie Joyal, the new Martin Matte series coming to Prime Video.

This mix of genres is, according to Thiffault, a strength of series from Quebec. “It’s a difficult balance to achieve, but when we do it, we do it well, even if we have far fewer resources than many other countries.”

Doing Business

For professionals from Quebec’s TV industry, participating in either Series Mania or the Festival de la Fiction, which takes place in La Rochelle, France, in September, offers an essential opportunity to develop partnerships and tap into alternative financing models.

“The fact of being here, of being chosen, is a unique opportunity to meet buyers and sell [our series] elsewhere, either as an adaptation or dubbed,” says Thiffault, citing Bête noire (Dark Soul) as an example. That series, also produced by Encore Television, received an offer less than 24 hours after being presented at Series Mania in 2021. A fourth season is currently in production.

Neegan Trudel, producer and director of the web series Les Saturnides, sees his first festival appearance as a valuable calling card. “The global web series market is still weak when it comes to resales,” he says. “My hopes are more for what comes next. I would like to make important series, meet future financial partners or international co-producers. Or just start making myself known.”

Les Saturnides, written by Jocelyn Martel-Thibault, is a drama that takes place in a single apartment and was inspired by the pandemic. It addresses our collective fatigue. “We ask the question, what would happen if an entire society was sleep-deprived? It’s an idea we’ve had for a while, but it evolved after COVID. We were inspired by the way the pandemic was managed, how the world interpreted a new virus, and the sort of media panic,” says Trudel.

Produced by his company Oraquan Médias, located in the Wendake community in the province of Quebec, the psychological thriller follows Indigenous influencers. “We see them, from the start, saying they can’t sleep and asking what’s happening. We hear them, but we don’t take them seriously. It’s a nod to the fact that when the Indigenous communities speak out about something, we see them, but we often don’t act,” says Trudel, himself a member of the Wendat Nation.

Even so, Les Saturnides isn’t an Indigenous series, he says. “It’s a direction we want to take, to get out of the silo of ‘only for the Indigenous.’ Telling our stories, but for a general audience.”

His biggest wish for Series Mania? To introduce people to Oraquan Médias and for his web series to have another life outside of Canada after the festival. In Quebec, the series will be available this fall on TV5Unis.

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The four women overseeing the Canada Media Fund, Telefilm Canada, the Indigenous Screen Office, and the National Film Board gathered to discuss the state of the nation’s media industry at Prime Time in Ottawa. Now & Next was there to capture their insights.

Call it the great Canadian media panel.

The four women who lead Canada’s national audiovisual organizations shared the stage at Prime Time 2026, a conference for the screen industry held in Ottawa every year.

The women — Canada Media Fund (CMF) president and CEO Valerie Creighton, Telefilm Canada executive director and CEO Julie Roy, Indigenous Screen Office (ISO) CEO Kerry Swanson, and National Film Board commissioner and chairperson Suzanne Guèvremont — gathered for a session titled “Canada’s Future: Building a Creative Nation.”

While the conference’s spotlight was dominated by men — including Prime Minister Mark Carney, and Heated Rivalry’s executive producers Jacob Tierney and Brendan Brady and star Hudson Williams — it is these four women who oversee Canada’s media industry.

It’s hard to overstate the impact they made in front of both Canadian and international creators as they discussed the state of Canada’s media industry, cultural sovereignty, and the future of the sector in this country.

“The most important thing the country has done is it’s opened the way for creators,” Creighton told the audience. “Regardless of the structure, regardless of the organizations, this country has allowed creativity to flourish. We have an abundance of creative and innovative talent. We're really blessed as a country.”

Defending Our Cultural Sovereignty

Supporting creators remains each organization’s focus, but suddenly a more urgent concern has emerged: cultural sovereignty. Creating meaningful films, TV and digital stories that represent the Canadian experience is crucial.

“The NFB is about telling authentic Canadian stories,” emphasized Guèvremont. “This is the strength of having creative documentarians and giving them the ability to tell their stories, which is important for our cultural sovereignty.

“And there’s education,” she continued. “That's another aspect of developing our cultural sovereignty and developing our ability to consume Canadian content from a very young age. For the NFB to be in schools across the country and have access to more than 400,000 teachers is important. We’re there with the kids in the classroom, and we participate in making sure that we develop that appetite for our amazing Canadian content.”

Roy spoke about how, over the years, Telefilm has built Canada’s brand internationally.

“That's very powerful and very strong,” she said. “We have treaties of co-production with 60 countries. That tells you Canada is appealing and people want to work with us.”

For the ISO, cultural sovereignty is seen through a very specific lens.

“The ISO was founded eight years ago with a mandate to foster narrative sovereignty for First Nations, Métis and Inuit storytellers in Canada,” explained Swanson. “And so that mandate is central to our mission. But what does it mean?

“Ultimately, it means the freedom to tell stories in the way that you want to tell them, to control those stories and not have anyone take them away from you, which we have a history of here in this country. But on a practical level, for us it means majority ownership of IP by Indigenous storytellers, with two of the three key creative roles on a project being occupied by an Indigenous person.

“And with Canada now going through this sort of crisis of contemplating what it means to be sovereign and feeling threatened, I think for the first time Canadians understand what we've been talking about this whole time,” continued Swanson. “And now you understand that you would also fight for 200 years to maintain your stories and to maintain your freedom and your sovereignty.”

Connecting With Audiences

Developing and bringing Canadian stories to screens won’t matter if those stories don’t resonate with audiences.

“I feel that if we don't invite audiences into the conversation, we will miss an opportunity here,” said Roy. “The environment has changed a lot and we can see that global platforms are shaping visibility, algorithms are shaping the discoverability, and even now AI is influencing the way we access content. So, what do we do with the audience? We need to build a national audience strategy.”

“The work we did together for MADE | NOUS across the country was about the audience,” Creighton offered in reference to the CMF’s years-long campaign to promote Canadian productions. “It was about our industry and our successes, but it really was about connecting with the public, and it's working pretty good, so far.

“If the creativity works, if the stories are strong, if the creators and producers are allowed to tell these stories, that's what will bring the audience in.”

Preparing for the Future Together

All four organizations are dealing with new technologies and services that don’t mesh with out-of-date structures and policies. Joining forces to ensure Canada’s media sector supports creators now and into the future is imperative.

“We cannot work alone anymore,” noted Roy. “We need to work in partnership, and I think that's the way we're going to build the future.”

“If we can help each other think together about what we can contribute to the future, it would be a very different approach,” said Creighton. "The first thing we have to do is learn how do we get more flexibility, how do we get rid of the barriers and the constraints? They were created a long time ago. Not the world we're living in today. And we see this in the interactive digital media, we see it in spaces like VR, we see it in spaces like gaming, we see it in spaces like location-based entertainment.

“It's just so exciting what's happening in this country,” Creighton added. “And I, for one, will do everything in my mental power to not hold on to the past and to look at how can we leverage that and make that leap? And it's not going to be easy, but it'll be fun.”

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