Known for her intimate and riveting films, director Kim O’Bomsawin now invites us to experience the vibrant universe of Ninan Auassat: We the Children. Shot over more than six years, the film brings us the moving stories of three groups of children from three different Indigenous nations: Atikamekw, Eeyou Cree and Innu. 

In following these young people through the crucial milestones of childhood, right to the threshold of adulthood, we witness their daily lives and aspirations, along with the challenges they face. 

Filmed from “a child’s eye-view” and presenting a groundbreaking vision of contemporary Indigenous youth, this documentary is notable for the complete absence of adult voices and “experts on young people”—holding space instead for a new generation with a burning desire to be heard. 

The result is a captivating journey that becomes a call to action, at a time when the voices of young people echo, demanding the right to be recognized and an opportunity to blossom. 

Credit: Élie-John Josepth, Innu from Uashat Mak Mani-utenam

A powerful film shot from “a child’s eye-view” without the voices of adults, this documentary reveals the dreams of a new generation poised to take flight. 

Known for her intimate and riveting films, director Kim O’Bomsawin now invites us to experience the vibrant universe of Ninan Auassat: We the Children—an immersive documentary celebrating the power and vitality of Indigenous youth.  

Shot over more than six years, the film brings us the moving stories of three groups of children from three different Indigenous nations: Atikamekw, Eeyou Cree and Innu. 

In hearing their heartfelt, raw stories and the ways they understand their history and experiences, we are plunged into the world of their dreams, learning about the issues that concern them and their hopes for the future. We follow these young people through the crucial milestones of childhood, right to the threshold of adulthood, witnessing their daily lives and aspirations, along with the challenges they face. 

Ninan Auassat: We the Children transcends cultural barriers, presenting a groundbreaking vision of contemporary Indigenous youth—one that highlights their courage and sincerity. Filmed sensitively and from “a child’s eye-view,” this documentary offers a deeply human perspective that encourages listening and mutual understanding. 

The result is gripping and powerful. In the complete absence of adult commentary and “experts on young people,” the film holds space for the new generation. Ninan Auassat: We the Children is a bold cinematic statement that reveals a burning desire to be heard. As the young people’s voices echo, demanding the right to be recognized and an opportunity to blossom, their journey becomes a call to action. 

Where did the idea for this film come from, and how would you situate Ninan Auassat: We the Children within your body of work?

The idea germinated for a long time. Ever since I made my first film, The Red Line (2014), I’ve been drawn to First Nations subjects. I really wanted to show something different from the usual negative portrayals (addiction, violence, etc.) because when I went into communities, I would see wonderful, eloquent young people who knew what they needed to flourish. I found these stereotypes really infuriating. I really wanted this film to showcase the voices of young people, told from a “child’s eye-view,” without any adults speaking for them. I took the idea to the NFB and pitched it to the producer at the time, Colette Loumède, who supported the project. The original intention was to film over a period of six years. There was an interruption caused by the pandemic, but in the end that allowed me to follow the young people through three important stages of their journeys: from early childhood to childhood, from childhood to adolescence and from adolescence to young adulthood.

How did you go about finding the protagonists? 

Over the years, I gained quite a deep knowledge of the different communities and developed relationships with the people. It was that extended network that helped me find the young protagonists for my film. For example, I’ve known young Legend since she was a baby, I really like her family, and I’ve been able to watch her grow up.

I also wanted the young people to come from different territories—which also serve as characters in the film—and from communities with different cultural representation.

What surprised you the most about these young people?

Their words didn’t actually surprise me. Given their different backgrounds, I was fully expecting the range of their life experiences and their voices to be powerful. For example, Legend’s family places a lot of importance on spirituality, and she talks about that. One of the teens in Pessamit speaks very maturely about seeing hard things when she was far too young. We also see the close bonds between brothers and sisters.

How did you maintain a connection with your protagonists over the six-year period?

It was easy for me to stay in touch. For example, I could reach out on Messenger to check in with them and find out their news. When COVID hit, we just waited for it to pass. That also meant I could really see the changes when I was able to return to their communities.

What does making a film from “a child’s eye-view” mean to you? In other words, why was it important for you to make a film where we hear the voices of young people only?

I was 100 percent committed to hearing only their voices and not those of adults or experts. Young people are the real experts on who they are.

A number of films about the experiences of Indigenous Peoples have been released over the last several years. Have you noticed any trends or an evolution in how younger generations are being represented?

Yes. The biggest change is that we’re managing to move beyond trauma. That’s a step forward; it’s progress. We’re making films about other things—on less dark subject matter, like the beauty of youth. For example, we’re seeing comedies now, current productions that aren’t dramas. It’s important to note that audiences have also become more open. It’s as if we’ve now gone beyond “First Nations Realities 101.”

How can narrative sovereignty contribute to more accurate and equitable representation of Indigenous communities in the current film and media landscape?

Narrative sovereignty is maybe a bit of a clichéd over-statement, but what it really means is, “Nothing about us without us.” That’s the foundation, and it’s a paradigm shift. It’s really important that these stories be told by people from First Nations and that they are the driving force behind their own representation. This doesn’t exclude co-creation with non-Indigenous artists. In fact, I would say that’s desirable.

How do you see the role of film and audiovisual media more generally in preserving and promoting Indigenous languages?

It’s essential. It’s one of the tools we have, and without it we don’t know what exists. The screen brings different peoples into the collective consciousness and makes people proud to hear their language. We also must recognize that Indigenous languages are in danger too, not just French. It’s important that they be represented and heard.

What are you hoping the impact of the film will be?

It’s not just a film on Indigenous youth, but on youth in general, from an Indigenous point of view. It’s pretty universal. First of all, I hope that we can think about highlighting the voices of young people—who they are and what they know. Second, I hope to kindle pride in the youth of our people, so that they see themselves and recognize how beautiful they are. Instead of having negative or difficult images of youth, they’ll be able to see positive role models with their families: “ordinary children” who represent the future of their Nations.

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