Episode 44 — Meadowlarks (2025): The Stories Canada Didn't Teach Us | Fork Rating

In this episode of Movies I Give a Fork About, AJ reviews Meadowlarks (2025)—a deeply moving Canadian drama inspired by the real experiences of Indigenous siblings separated during the Sixties Scoop. 

What begins as a film review becomes a personal reflection on history, identity, and the stories many Canadians were never taught. 

AJ explores the film's quiet power, Tasha Hubbard's thoughtful direction, the authentic performances, and why Meadowlarks is an essential watch for anyone seeking to better understand Canada's past and the ongoing journey toward reconciliation. 

This isn't just a movie that earns a fork rating—it earns your attention.

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Hosted by AJ Jones, this podcast cuts through hype, marketing, and awards buzz to answer one simple question:

Is this movie actually worth your time?

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Welcome to Movies I Give a Fork About, the podcast where we don't use stars, we use forks. Because not every movie deserves your time, and not every movie earns your emotion. But when one truly does, well that's when you give a fork. I'm AJ, and today's movie is Meadowlarks. Before I talk about today's film, I want to begin a little differently. I live in Calgary, Alberta on the traditional territories of the Blackfoot Confederacy. This includes the Siksica, Bakani, and Kainai Nations, as well as the Sutina Nation and the Yayahe Nakota Nations. Calgary is also home to the Metis Nation of Alberta Region 3. I know I don't begin every episode with a land acknowledgement, but today it feels especially appropriate because Meadowlarks is a film about family, about identity, about culture, and about what happens when those things are deliberately taken away. I recently watched Meadow Larks for the second time. The first time was on a flight home after visiting my daughter in Ireland. And yes, I cried several times. And watching it a second time again at home, I cried again. Sometimes during the same scenes, and sometimes during completely different scenes. Meadowlarks is written by Tasha Hubbard and Emile Sher and directed by Tasha Hubbard. This film tells the story of four indigenous siblings who were separated during Canada's 60s scoop and meet each other for the first time as adults. And what makes this film even more remarkable is that it didn't appear out of nowhere. Metalarks is adapted in part from Hubbard's award-winning 2017 documentary Birth of a Family, which followed the real-life reunion of four indigenous siblings separated during the 60s scoop. And you can feel that authenticity throughout this film. Nothing feels exaggerated or manipulative. It simply feels honest. Each sibling carrying different memories and different wounds. Each of them with different questions about who they are and where they belong. The eldest remembers losing his family, while the youngest hadn't even spoken her first word before she was taken. Imagine trying to understand your identity when your earliest memories aren't your own family. Or your own language or your own culture. For me, Tasha Hubbard tells this story with incredible restraint. The cinematography is beautiful. Much of the film was shot here in Alberta, including around Banff, and the landscapes are truly stunning. And they never overpower the story, but the land for me became another character. And it was a constant reminder that these families also belonged somewhere, even after they were separated from one another. And the performances from Michael Grey Eyes, Carmen Moore, Alex Rice, Michelle Thrush, New Breed Russell Badger, and Mary Galloway all were deeply authentic. No one is trying to give a performance. They're simply telling the truth of these characters. One moment I also loved was during the closing credits when Blue Rodeo's Lost Together begins to play. And as an Alberta girl, I this is a song that I grew up listening to. And hearing it here gave it an entirely different meaning. One of the reasons this film affected me so deeply is because it reminded me of something that happened a few years ago. When my daughter was in junior high, she came home one afternoon and asked me, Hey, mom, isn't it awful and horrible about what happened in residential schools? And I remember looking at her with a puzzled look on my face and saying, What are you what are you talking about? And not because I didn't care, because I genuinely had never been taught that history. Not once do I remember hearing about the 60s scoop. And after watching Meadowarx and preparing for this podcast, I looked into why that was. And I discovered that these subjects weren't simply part of the curriculum when I was growing up. And in fact, during much of my childhood, these policies were still unfolding. The term 60 scoop, for example, wasn't even coined until 1983. And residential schools were still operating. And the last federally run residential school in Canada didn't close until 1996. Fucking 1996. So the general public understanding really began to shift once the government of Canada's official apology came in 2008. Then, following the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's calls to action in 2015, provinces across Canada, including Alberta, began making the history of residential schools and the 60s scoop a mandatory part of K-12 education. So when my daughter came home talking about residential schools, she knew more about that chapter of Canadian history than I ever had the opportunity to learn in school. And on one hand, I'm grateful for that is progress, but there's still so much more to be done. Because every so often I'll hear someone say, why do we need to keep talking about this? It happened so long ago. But that's exactly why stories like Meadowlarks matter. For many indigenous families, this is not ancient history. Many survivors of the Sicties scoop are still alive today. Many are still reconnecting with siblings that they haven't seen since childhood. And many more are still reclaiming their languages, their culture, their identities. And history doesn't stop affecting people simply because time has fucking passed. Deep trauma like this echoes through generations. And that's why these stories continue to be told, need to be told. Because we all need to understand. In the final credits, there was a title card that the film honored those who survived Canada's child removal systems and those who did not. And given the powerful message of this movie, that just hit me really hard and stayed with me. Because this, I don't think this film asks us to carry guilt, but it asks us to carry awareness, to listen, to witness, and to hold space for experiences that many Canadians, including me, were never taught. And I truly hope that we continue to see more and more films from indigenous writers, directors, and storytellers. Because if my generation wasn't taught these stories, but my daughter's generation is and was, and future generations will be by mandate, that's evidence that we're beginning to listen. And there's still a lot more work to do. But listening is where reconciliation begins. So my fork rating for Meadowlarks is four forks. Not because it's flashy, not because it's trying to entertain or wow you, but because it is incredibly thoughtful, compassionate, beautifully made, and deeply important. This is a film that honors the lived experiences of indigenous families affected by the 60s scoop. It is worth your time. It is worth your attention. And it's worth sitting with long after the credits roll. And that's today's fork. If you enjoyed this episode, please follow the show and share it with someone who also gives a fork about movies. Until next time, watch boldly, judge honestly, and never be afraid to give a fork.