Canada finally has a satire show of its own

The show's main anchors Miguel Rivas and Emma Hunter

Canadian satire, generally speaking, is pretty crappy.

We’ve killed it in sketch comedy (SCTV, Kids in the Hall, anything Lorne Michaels has ever produced), but our national answers to The Daily Show et al are oatmeal-like, from the bumbling This Hour Has 22 Minutes to Rick Mercer hobnobbing his way into irrelevance. It’s kind of fun, but not mean – and therefore without meaning.

Defenders of this family-friendly tradition might point to Canada’s historically draconian defamation and copyright laws, eased somewhat in November 2012 with Bill C-11’s Copyright Modernization Act. But the legalese hasn’t changed much in reality, and artists’ collective fear of libel suits remains as strong as ever.

When I wrote about this last summer for the Globe and Mail, I spoke to Tim Progosh, the creator of the Canadian Comedy Awards. “We’re more risk averse here. That’s why the law hasn’t had the impact it should have had,” he told me. “People are too afraid.”

Until The Beaverton, anyway.

The Comedy Network’s new satirical news show, which debuted Nov. 9, is the broadcast-TV adaptation of a successful Canadian-first fake news site. Its writers shook hands with Bell Media on the condition that they be allowed to push the boundaries of Canadian TV comedy, testing the limits of our country’s defamation laws and bringing a darker edge that would complement, rather than be overshadowed by, the likes of Samantha Bee and Trevor Noah.

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I was a bit apprehensive when I reported on this a year ago, just after the deal was announced. Making good comedy is harder than making big promises. While the writers and producers assured me their jokes would bite, The Beaverton site sometimes kept a straight-laced approach to comedy, adhering too strictly to The Onion’s established format and not creating a unique identity.

Thankfully, I was wrong.

Consider an early sketch they did on the Trudeau government’s proposed update to the Indian Act: instead of erasing the political segregation, they’re adding more to even the field, including “The Crafty Jew Act.”

“As a Jewish person,” asks foreign correspondent Marilla Wex (who is, by the way, very funny), “what can I expect from the Crafty Jew Act?”

“Well, like with the Indian Act, your name will be put on a list with other Jews – that’s the legal term – and you’ll be issued a card identifying you as a Jew,” the milquetoast government employee responds.

Other proposed classifications: the Dumb Polack Act, the Inscrutable Chinaman Act and the Black People Act – the latter of which has to be mouthed in a whisper, presumably for fear of sounding racist.

It’s all a bit blunt, maybe, but at least it’s better than Rick Mercer having a sleepover with Stephen Harper.

This is comedy written for a Canadian audience – The Beaverton is not broad, nor is it aiming to please. In the tradition of Jon Stewart and Lenny Bruce, it is sharply critical, pointing out hypocrisies and contradictions within Canada’s governments. There are sketches on the Ontario Liberals’ new sex-ed curriculum, how Rachel Notley became a provincial scapegoat, and a Heritage Minute on ketchup chips within a Heritage Minute on Heritage Minutes within a bored elementary classroom forced to watch Heritage Minutes.

The show cleverly toes the line between embracing Canada’s outsider status – the neighbour to the north, a historically minor international player – and leaning into jokes geared exclusively to those outsiders. While not everyone working on the show is Jewish, it’s a position Jewish comics know well.

In the wake of Trudeaumania and what was arguably America’s most vitriolic presidential election, Canadians are thirsty for a political discourse beyond CBC panels and fleeting international media mentions. Satire is a crucial part of that tapestry. The Beaverton is a relief – I just hope the ratings are as strong as the jokes.