In the opening moments of North of North, Anna Lambe’s character—Siaja—addresses the camera plainly: “I’m a modern Inuk woman, whatever that means.” It’s a line that could be read as cheeky, maybe even deflective. But in reality, it’s one of the most quietly radical lines on TV this year. The new Canadian drama, co-produced by Netflix and CBC in partnership with APTN, centers Indigenous lives with complexity, humanity, and care. Lambe, who cut her teeth in The Grizzlies, emerges here not just as a lead actor, but as a generational talent.
The show’s production was nothing short of historic: 45 Canadian cast, 300+ Canadian crew, and more than 500 Iqaluit locals in background roles. With 55 shoot days in Iqaluit and a $23M+ Gross Value Added impact to Canada’s economy, North of North was and continues to be an economic and cultural tour de force.
Next, Lambe is set to co-star alongside Brad Pitt in the action-thriller The Heart of the Beast—a big-ticket Hollywood leap that signals her ascent as a star with both gravity and global reach. But for now, she’s still soaking in the resonance of North of North—a love letter to the North, and a bold redefinition of what it means to be seen.
First off—huge congrats on North of North. It’s such a powerful show, and it’s making history in so many ways. How has the ride been?
Anna Lambe: Thank you! Honestly, everything has been more exciting and more incredible than I could have dreamed of. The way people are responding—especially the different demographics who are watching—it’s been beyond what I expected.
Even when we were filming it, you could feel that we were doing something meaningful. It was there in the writing, from the start. Our showrunners created something really special, and now that it’s out in the world, it’s been a wild ride—in the best way.
Let’s talk about your character. Siaja opens the show by calling herself “a modern Inuk woman, whatever that means.” What are you asking the audience to consider with a line like that?
Anna Lambe: There’s often a misconception that Inuit people only exist in the past—as historical figures. We’re not often seen in a contemporary context. So, calling herself a modern Inuk woman challenges those assumptions.
The show really highlights that a modern Inuk woman faces many of the same challenges as anyone else—family issues, relationship struggles, career questions. We might come from a different place, but our experiences are deeply relatable.
The themes feel universal. But the show also highlights a new generation reclaiming their stories. How do you think North of North disrupts people’s assumptions about Inuit lives, Inuit women, and what it means to be young and Inuk today?
Anna Lambe: First of all, credit to our showrunners for writing layered, interesting, and imperfect characters. There’s often this pressure on women—especially Indigenous women—to be perfect. To be quiet, to be devoted, to fit into someone else’s idea of who we should be.
Siaja, my character, talks about that right away. She had the “perfect” life on paper—married, a family—but she was still unhappy. She hadn’t realized her full potential. I think seeing that arc—someone who starts over, who holds space for themselves and others—is so important. Especially for Inuit youth.
It’s about having grace for yourself, making mistakes, and still being worthy of love, of success, of everything.
That complexity is rare—and powerful.
Anna Lambe: Absolutely. It’s about redefining how people view the Arctic. So often it’s portrayed as dark, desolate, or isolating. And yes, there are truths in that—we have the dark season, and Nunavut communities are only fly-in. But that’s not the whole story.
There’s warmth here. There’s joy, and love, and complicated relationships—just like anywhere else. We’re so often defined by our setting instead of our humanity. This show flips that narrative.
What were some of the personal stakes for you in this project?
Anna Lambe: It was a chance to show that Inuk women can be complex. That we have desires, that we want things for ourselves—whether that’s dating again, changing careers, or growing into something new. It was also about creating something for our communities. So many people from Nunavut were involved—from cast to background to vendors. We were telling our own stories, with our own people, in our own home.
It must’ve felt deeply personal.
Anna Lambe: It really did. I’m so proud of the fact that we had 55 shoot days in Iqaluit, and worked with over 60 vendors from Nunavut. That matters. The economic impact alone—over $23 million to the Canadian economy—is huge. But beyond the numbers, it’s about representation. It’s about people seeing themselves on screen for the first time.
Can we also talk about the styling on the show? It plays such an important role throughout the series.
Anna Lambe: Yes! The styling in the show was so intentional and just absolutely beautiful. We had Debra Hanson, who was our head of costume, and Nooks Lindell, who is an Inuk designer — they worked together so seamlessly. They weren’t just putting us in clothes that looked good on camera, they were putting us in pieces that told stories.
Inuit are incredibly fashionable in our own way. And that’s something I really wanted people to see — that Indigenous fashion doesn’t have to conform to southern or western aesthetics to be valid or beautiful. From region to region, we have different styles, different materials, but there’s this common love of colour, of vibrancy. It’s expressive, and it’s deeply practical. The pieces in the show — many made with fur, sealskin, or traditional materials — are not only stunning, but they also help you survive in the Arctic. That’s style with purpose.
You brought up fur — did you encounter any pushback about that on set or from outside perspectives?
Anna Lambe: Interestingly, we didn’t face any direct pushback on set, but it was definitely a topic of conversation among the showrunners. They were talking one day about the anti-animal product sentiment that exists in some circles, and they wondered if fake fur could be a replacement. But for us, that wasn’t really a viable option. Real fur isn’t just cultural — it’s practical. It’s the difference between warmth and cold. So they ultimately decided to stay true to what’s actually used in the communities, which I really appreciated. It’s a nuanced decision, but a meaningful one.
How does that commitment to authenticity play out in other parts of the show?
Anna Lambe: The whole production really made a point of grounding itself in real community experiences. That meant hiring Indigenous writers, Indigenous directors, having Inuit people involved in every department. That’s not something you always see. It wasn’t just about “getting it right” — it was about making something that actually belonged to us. You could feel that energy on set, and I think you can see it on screen.
Even little things like language and food were treated with so much respect. We’re not translating everything for a non-Inuit audience. If you know, you know. And if you don’t — well, maybe you’ll be curious enough to learn. That, to me, is what real representation looks like.
The show also touches on some complicated dynamics, like the presence of white saviorism in northern communities. That feels like a tough subject to get right.
Anna Lambe: Definitely. The concept of the white savior is very real in the North—it still exists, and many of us have encountered it in some way. I think the best representation of that in the show is Helen, the head of the community center. She’s not a caricature, and that’s what makes her so interesting. Some people might want to call her a “Karen” or say she’s being malicious, but that’s not true. She genuinely cares about the community. She has an Inuk husband. She’s been there a long time. But she also takes up a lot of space—space that isn’t always hers to take.
She represents that contradiction.
Anna Lambe: Exactly. She’s well-intentioned but often oversteps. Sometimes people like Helen think that because they’re outsiders, they’re unbiased. Or they think they’re the only ones who can create solutions, because they come from a place of privilege or have more access. But what they don’t always realize is that they’re centering themselves in the process.
The show doesn’t give an easy answer to that.
Anna Lambe: No, and that’s important because there’s no easy answer. You can’t just cancel Helen or erase everything she’s contributed. She’s done good things for the community, but she’s also part of a system that takes up space that should be reserved for Indigenous voices. So, we have to navigate that tension. Communities are small. You don’t always like everyone, and they don’t always like you, but you still have to find a way to live and work together. That’s real life.
Speaking of taking up space, one of the other big plot lines in the show is about pitching the community as a research hub and fighting for funding. But beyond the show, this is happening in real life where there are big discussions around land use development and advocacy for Indigenous control. How do you think the storyline resonates with the larger discussions happening right now?
Anna Lambe: In the North, we have seen so many people make decisions for us. That’s why we now have the land claims agreement and why the Inuit fought for our right to our land. The exploitation of our land is what will eventually make it uninhabitable and has been impacting migrational patterns of animals adding heavy metals in the water. This situation is basically copy and pasted all over Canada and the world. There’s no lack of conversation around it. I hope this is another conversation that is opened up.
Netflix is a massive platform. What does that kind of distribution mean to you?
Anna Lambe: It’s a game-changer. We’re not just sharing these stories with Canada—we’re reaching audiences around the world. And the fact that it’s coming from Nunavut, from Inuit voices, makes it even more powerful. It shows that these stories matter. That there’s a demand for them. That our lives aren’t niche—they’re part of the larger cultural fabric.
What did playing Siaja teach you about yourself?
Anna Lambe: Siaja taught me that embarrassment is temporary. That it’s okay to fall flat on your face because there’s always something else that comes after. I think that’s such a beautiful lesson. She’s so fearless in some ways and so deeply insecure in others, and that duality gave me permission to be a little gentler with myself, too.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. For the full chat, tune into the Mission Critical podcast to listen to Anna on May 14.
