In its second season, there is a predictable rise-and-fall structure to the writing on Netflix’s “North of North.” Siaja (Anna Lambe), trying to bring vibrancy to her community during winter, concocts several plans—all well-meaning but a little half-baked—and things go sideways.
Were this a lesser, duller show, this would be grounds for complaint. But not in Ice Cove, the fictional Inuit town that is a microcosm for the world at large: specific in its customs, yet universal in its experiences. It is one of the few TV series right now that uses costumes, production design, and color to enhance the storytelling this effectively. Many storylines, even comedic ones, double as commentary on much larger issues, though you never feel hit over the head with A Message. “North of North” is still a sitcom, with slightly more traditional trappings this season, but its charm, warmth, and pathos make it something truly unique.
A lot has changed for Siaja. The good news: Her ex-husband Ting has moved to a different town, so their daughter Bun commutes between both parents. The bad news: Standing up for herself and her ideas at the community center where she works remains a challenge for Siaja. Compounding the problem is her boss Helen (Mary-Lynn Rajskub), who favors the blonde-haired, blue-eyed influencer Alexis (Taylor Hickson)—girlfriend to Siaja’s crush Kuuk (Braeden Clarke)—as a more PR-friendly representative of Ice Cove’s tourism offerings.
In more bad news, Siaja is at odds with her mother Neevee (Maika Harper), with whom she has no choice but to live, and whom she is pressing to take a DNA test. The results, Siaja hopes, may help them find Neevee’s firstborn daughter, whom she gave up for adoption when she was struggling with alcoholism. Neevee insists she has put this part of her life behind her, but Siaja isn’t so sure.
Though “North of North” is clearly meant to follow Siaja’s journey, Neevee sometimes emerges as the show’s most interesting character. Season one explored her guilt and shame over her past struggles with addiction, and her shock at the arrival of her ex, Alistair (Jay Ryan), who also happens to be Siaja’s father. A complex resentment has been simmering inside Neevee: after all this time, time that she spent raising Siaja alone, Alistair now enjoys a relationship with his daughter and granddaughter, has set up a home in Ice Cove, and is even dating an attractive, age-appropriate, self-possessed romance writer. It’s enough to upset any woman.
Another subplot, which starts off funny but has more to it than meets the eye, involves the offerings in Neevee’s general store. The shop is an extension of her personality: tough, rugged, the bare essentials and little besides. Why, asks a visitor, doesn’t she sell needle and thread? Why not sell yarn, or beads, or bias tape? But Neevee hasn’t gotten this far in life by being vulnerable. She rejects needs she sees as weaknesses, in others and in herself. This subplot takes both a comedic and a somber turn—elder Elisapee (Nutaaq Simmonds, a bona fide scene stealer) uses devious leverage to secure Ice Cove’s sewing circle’s support for Neevee’s store—and pauses to acknowledge losses the community has faced at the hands of colonialism. All this in a 24-minute sitcom teleplay structure: it’s good stuff.
Zorga Qaunaq and Bailey Poching make very welcome returns to play Millie and Colin, respectively, Siaja’s best friends, full of crackling one-liners and always up for a hijink or two. It’s surprising how quickly Jay Ryan can shift from a smoldering scientist getting cozy with a new girlfriend to a man on the verge of tears, forever soaking up every moment with Siaja and Bun to make up for the years of fatherhood Alistair will never know. Braeden Clarke does lovely, quiet work too, as the long-wandering Kuuk, who may have finally found a sense of belonging.
And where would this season be without costume designer Alexander Reda? Few TV shows sport more eye-catching or enlightening costumes. Certainly the furs, earrings, parkas, and boots come in luminous colors, shapes, sizes, and prints, but the absence of color and jewelry speaks to each character’s emotional downturns. Conversely, characters not usually seen wearing jewelry come alive in gorgeous accessories. Every piece, it is clear, has been carefully selected to accompany each character’s personality, quirks, and color palette, and each ensemble complements the next. It’s a feast for the eyes, truly unlike anything else on TV this year.
Anna Lambe, meanwhile, finds new layers in her performance. Siaja bungles various plans to bring her community together during winter, as is customary for the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed optimist in a sitcom. But her arc this season, and the arc of “North of North” overall during season two, is about the discomfort of dwelling in the in-between. Yes, she has made progress, but she still feels stuck. Lambe walks a fine line, beaming from ear to ear in Siaja’s trademark joyous grin and determined to believe in the best possible outcome, but she runs up against harsh realities, including mistakes she’s made chasing an ill-defined future.
The series’ writing remains its greatest strength. Just as things get very dark, someone whips out an uproarious one-liner. Elderly characters provide deadpan beats of physical comedy. Through the long, dark winter, “North of North” wants to say, all we can do is be there for each other. It won’t be pretty, but we have to keep trying. “Do the thing that feels true to you,” says a community member to Siaja, “even if no one claps right away. And whatever you’re searching for, don’t give up.” Words to live by, from a show that’s nigh unmissable.
All episodes screened for review. Currently streaming on Netflix.
