THE STORY – Four siblings, torn apart by the Sixties Scoop, reunite for one week.
THE CAST – Michael Greyeyes, Carmen Moore, Alex Rice & Michelle Thrush
THE TEAM – Tasha Hubbard (Director/Writer) & Emil Sher (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 91 Minutes
Over the centuries the Canadian government, along with social and religious institutions, have found a myriad ways to perpetuate harm to First Nations individuals and their communities. From cloistered reservations meant to shield their way of life from the dominant society, through to residential school systems meant to “civilize” and thus erase their language and traditions, this institutionalized abuse has taken on many forms. A half century ago, the so-called “Sixties Scoop” took infants away from their Indigenous birth parents en masse, fostering them usually with non-Native parents, and splitting apart families for the supposed good of their well being.
Tasha Hubbard’s film “Meadowlarks” explores the ramifications of this policy on those who were victimized by it. Based in part on the stories of the subjects of her 2017 documentary “Birth of a Family,” “Meadowlarks” follows the re-meeting of siblings years after they were split apart. What starts as what’s awkwardly described as a “reunion” becomes something more powerful, a fundamental reconnection between those ripped apart, as well as a recognition about how the trauma of these events shaped the lives of each individual in profound yet unique ways.
Hubbard’s keen eye honed in documentary provides the film a keen observational sense, the camera never framing things in a showy or aggrandizing way. The conversations between each family member are made that much more challenging and awkward given the period of forced absence, making us as viewers fully conscious that we’re witnessing moments that we’re privileged to observe while also being slightly wary of our virtual presence. Hubbard’s ensemble is exemplary, with the balance between familial connection and the awkwardness of essentially meeting strangers employed in varying degrees of subtlety and sophistication. Carmen Moor, Alex Rice, Michelle Thrush, and Michael Greyeyes deftly navigation the emotional swings of reunion, dosing out their own emotions and reactions in ways that range from the quiet to the explosive.
In lesser hands, the film would feel far too predictable or manipulative, and the early moments of the film do provide some concern as the setup is established and the members enter the luxurious rental cottage. Even seemingly straightforward moments such as shopping for souvenirs in the tourist havens of Alberta’s Banff village have deeper elements of both narrative and character depth that require some patience to fully appreciate. The four siblings (as well as the eldest, who chooses not to participate in the gathering) all have their own stories to share, and as each element trickles out we gain more and more understanding of their circumstances, as well as a deeper comprehension of why seemingly simple moments take on far richer and more profound meaning.
It would be easy for the film to lose its path, simply revelling in the tragedy of the situation, or making each character more iconographic than actualized. Yet thanks to the committed performances, there’s far more to appreciate the longer the family members are together. Hubbard makes excellent use of the setting, from the high-ceilinged cabin to the beautiful Banff-area wilderness. A precarious bridge and a neighboring swing-set provide overt visual metaphors for their struggles, but also prove to be more subtle ways of illustrating the ways each adult spent their childhoods bridging between different communities, swinging in unstable ways and yet tied, if invisibly, to the family from which they were ripped apart.
The film wisely refuses to provide simple solutions for the various challenges that each individual brings to the table, and even the interactions with sympathetic elders are handled without a sense of catharsis or closure. These are small steps made in healing, a literal reconciliation of family members done for the best of reasons, but noting that there’s still plenty of work to do. The effects of decades of separation can’t be so easily erased, but the simple and beautiful fact of knowing that the joys and pains that each individual feels are mirrored in the experiences of those to whom they are related provides the stories most powerful truth: that to not feel alone is a powerful salve to even the most egregious of injuries.
“Meadowlarks” soars when it’s unafraid to have difficult answers, and to allow the various complications and complexities of its characters to be fully on display. We witness the beginning of a long process of reconnection rather than a simplistic celebration. The final moments evoke the image of the parents who gave birth to these individuals, which leaves so much of their own lives and feelings as opaque to us as it is to their children. Much has been ripped away that can never be recovered, but as the lives of these individuals illustrate, in ways both big and small, the very action of trying to move forward together is as revealing as it is remarkable.
