Beautiful losers

Julian, Bubbles and Ricky from the Trailer Park Boys look into the camera.

Group photo by the Canadian Press/Nathan Denette

It’s probably Julian, the leader of the namesake trio at the heart of Trailer Park Boys, who best identifies what makes one of Canada’s highest-rated, lowest cultured television shows so endearing: “Officer, I’ve got a drinkin’ problem and Ricky, he’s got a dope problem. Them two, they’ve got mental problems. We’re all a little bit fucked up here, but we’d never hurt anybody.”

Though they’ve existed in some form since the late ’90s, Canada was introduced to the Boys—Ricky (Robb Wells), Julian (John Paul Tremblay) and Bubbles (Mike Smith)—en masse when Trailer Park Boys premiered in 2001. Show creator Mike Clattenburg’s comedic mockumentary, launched months before the original U.K. edition of The Office, is a unique look into the hilarious misadventures of Sunnyvale Trailer Park’s most notorious residents. (The fictional location is based on a real park east of Halifax.) Each season follows the Boys’ pursuit of easy money through petty (and sometimes not-so-petty) crime while they try to avoid both the police and their park supervisor, a relentless drunk named Jim Lahey (John Dunsworth).

As Ricky might say, it doesn’t take rocket appliances to see why Trailer Park Boys has struck a chord with both regional and national audiences. The show depicts Canada at its most basic and absurd. The gang manages to maintain relatability in ridiculous circumstances, such as forcing Rita MacNeil to harvest weed for them. Amidst the gunfights and drama, the series always returns to its core value: the power of friendship. The residents of Sunnyvale support each other through thick and thin, spotting smokes and liquor, opening up their trailers, junker cars and empty lots to those fresh out of jail, and generally sharing the spoils of their illegal work with their community regardless of lifelong grudges. Trailer Park Boys shows us you don’t need much in life to be fulfilled—it can really be as simple as getting drunk and stoned with the people you love.

Trailer Park Boys is definitely unsophisticated, but it’s also undoubtedly progressive and unafraid to push the boundaries of television. It routinely tackles issues like addiction, polyamory, mental health, literacy and poverty with humour and ease. And there is perhaps no bigger advocate against marijuana prohibition than the gang from Sunnyvale. Nearly every season revolves around the challenges of growing and selling dope. The show actively works to destigmatize its widespread use. As Ricky says: “Everybody [gets stoned], all right? Carpenters, electricians, dishwashers, floor cleaners, lawyers, doctors, politicians, CBC employees, principals, people who paint the lines on the fuckin’ roads…”

To perpetuate the myth, started early in the series’ run, that the show is based on real life, the actors would often appear in character while out in public. Both on and off set, the residents of Sunnyvale have left a powerful imprint on Canadian culture. In fact, it’s not uncommon to meet a Canadian who has someone in his or her circle of friends that’s personally partied with Lahey or Julian or all of them. The novelty of these appearances gained momentum and, before long, J Rock (Jonathan Torrens) was playing shows at Massey Hall, the Boys appeared together in a Tragically Hip video (“The Darkest One”), and Bubbles even performed his trademark song, “Liquor and Whores,” live with Guns ’n’ Roses.

From its humble beginnings as a cult hit, Trailer Park Boys has grown into an impressive empire that includes six feature films, countless international tours, a podcast, a slew of merchandise and 10 seasons of television (with an 11th coming soon). While success and time has influenced the series—regular cast members, producers and directors have come and gone, the show moved from Showcase to Netflix, and its universe has expanded to include guest stars like Snoop Dogg and specials like Trailer Park Boys Out of the Park: Europe—there’s a certain national pride in knowing new audiences are still being introduced to donairs, samsquanches and zesty mordant Doritos.

This story first appeared in Passport2017, a Strategic Content Labs and Heritage Canada project.

Previous
Previous

Double-Double forever

Next
Next

Why Torontonians without a family doctor miss out on mental health care