Writer and director Tasha Hubbard turns her hand to fiction filmmaking after a string of well-received documentary features. Meadowlarks is actually inspired by one of those documentaries, Birth of a Family (2017), following a group of Cree siblings meeting for the first time as adults. Separated by the Sixties Scoop, they haven’t just lost time with each other, but a sense of self.
Meeting in Banff, Canada is older brother Anthony (Michael Greyeyes) and sisters Connie (Carmen Moore), Marianne (Alex Rice) and Gwen (Michelle Thrush). Their interactions in the first few scenes are awkward to say the least—understandable considering this is a family all in their 50s meeting together for the first time since being young children. Marianne has lived a completely different life in Belgium, but the others have all been on different paths, even in Canada. As they spend time with each other exploring Banff and their Indigenous roots, flaws and vulnerabilities bubble to the surface.
It isn’t too surprising to see Hubbard adapt Birth of a Family; the story of those affected by the Sixties Scoop is a compelling one, and a story that needs to be told. The journey these siblings go on throughout Meadowlarks is full of ups and downs—being torn apart from your family and heritage leaves scars that take time to heal. Each family member is adrift; not entirely belonging to a culture or group of people. Their individual relationships with their Indigenous identity come into conflict with one another, making for devastating drama rooted in reality. This is something previously explored by Hubbard, so the question remains: is a fictional retelling warranted? Just about.
What makes Meadowlarks worth the watch (outside of the premise) are the performances. Being a melodrama, everyone gets their moment. The leading ladies effortlessly embody their unique traits. Connie is a motherly figure who is too nice, Gwen the no-nonsense older sister with a short fuse, and Marianne who is so far removed from Indigenous culture. But it is Greyeyes who steals the show as the childish big brother Anthony. A stark difference to his usual tough-guy roles, Greyeyes is reserved and communicates his inner turmoil through subtle expressions. It helps that he has a few quiet, endearing moments–such as a simple phone call between Anthony and his daughter–to show off what he’s capable of dramatically.
Dragging the experience down, unfortunately, is the writing. Even for a melodrama, the dialogue is often clunky and on the nose. For the most part, characters explain exactly what they’re thinking and feeling. It’s especially annoying considering there are several scenes that let few words and minimal direction speak volumes. The music too leans heavily into the melodrama, with piano and strings forcing emotions out of viewers. Hubbard has experienced fiction writer Emil Sher helping with scripting duties, but clearly that hasn’t helped here.
Whilst the characteristics of a melodrama rears its ugly head, Meadowlarks is still worth a watch. An important story that deserves to be told to audiences on the big screen, the committed performances show us the trauma these people have endured. But rather than leaning into harrowing drama, Hubbard turns pain into hope.
Meadowlarks was screened at the 37th Palm Springs International Film Festival.
