Rachel Beaulieu is an Anishinaabekwe from Sandy Bay Ojibway First Nation in southern Manitoba, Canada, and the visionary behind Can Dream Productions. A 2010 graduate of Media Production from Assiniboine Community College, Rachel earned early recognition for her talent, winning two awards while honing her craft. Her professional experience spans commercial, narrative, documentary, broadcast, and educational film, all shaped by her perspective as a First Nations woman. Through her work, she creates space for creators with diverse visions while telling stories rooted in community, culture, and lived experience.
Rachel has produced and directed all of her films, including Red River Roots, Hunger, Crush, and Children of the Stars. Her films have premiered at notable festivals, with Mèmére debuting at the Gimli International Film Festival and her thriller, Ojichaag, at the Whistler Film Festival. She has contributed to projects for CBC, CTV, FOX, Al Jazeera, NBC, APTN, SHAW TV, and Bell MTS, with her work featured in festivals such as the American Indian Film Festival, Vancouver International Film Festival, and LA Skins Fest.
An alumna of the National Screen Institute and Women in the Director’s Chair programs, Rachel is actively involved in mentoring and supporting Indigenous filmmakers, serving as an advisor to the Winnipeg Indigenous Filmmakers Collective, and having recently been elected to the Board of Directors for On Screen Manitoba. In this interview, she reflects on her journey, her creative process, and the transformative power of telling stories that belong to her people.
Q. What sparked the creation of Can Dream Productions, and how has your identity shaped the way you tell stories?
I was actually 14 or 15 when I came up with the name. I started creating flash animations in high school. However, that went dormant because I never considered it a viable career path. I started storytelling by working on other people’s projects as a video editor, and didn’t think I had a story to tell. Until 2016, when I started my company and revived the company name, I was still learning who I was and working solo for a few years before transitioning to a day job. I was skilled in all multimedia, but didn’t have the connections to keep going. So, I took up a day job.
Q. You’ve worked across so many forms, documentary, narrative, broadcast, and educational films. How do you know when a story belongs in one format versus another?
I had the opportunity to learn and experiment in my previous role as an Audio Video Producer for a First Nations company. I was part of a small team, and I always had bright ideas to try new things, taking the lead. I usually find out where the initial idea comes from and whether it’s easy to absorb as a true educational story or if an inspired story helps the topic become relatable instead of being fed to the audience. Sometimes topics are scary to talk about, and having a genre film tell it in a cool, interesting way, for me, is always better.
Q. Films like Red River Roots, Hunger, Crush, Children of the Stars, Mèmére, and Ojichaag all carry deep community and personal themes. What threads connect these works for you?
I really love stories. I would listen to my dad and his friends tell these tall tales, and they were always connected to them personally in some way. I only recently started sharing a part of myself in my films. Either my respect for my elders, being an Indigenous Woman who faces threats of Violence, or being impacted by suicide. Vulnerability is new and is working for me.
Q. Ojichaag premiered at the Whistler Film Festival, an incredible milestone. What were some of the challenges in getting that film to the screen, and what did you take away from the experience?
Ojichaag was my most transformative project, both for myself and for the actual project, and the audience resonates with it as well. It’s pretty powerful and true to what I’ve learned about my culture and community. At the beginning of the project, I didn’t truly understand why I wanted to tell my story. I knew it was important. I knew the characters were conveying a message, but it wasn’t until I had my cast that I really saw the life in them. Additionally, I learned from them that I needed to respect this film as well. So, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t making this film frivolously because, as you know, you don’t mess with spirits!
Q. You’ve collaborated with major networks like CBC, CTV, and NBC, while also creating independently through your own company. How do those experiences compare, and what do you carry from one into the other?
I enjoy the clout of the networks, but creating projects for my company is why I do what I do, creating stories about and for Indigenous people.
Q. Mentorship has been crucial in your journey. Is there a mentor or moment of guidance that stands out as transformative for you as a filmmaker?
The most amazing mentorship I was part of is the Women in the Director’s Chair Story and Leadership Program. I was such a newbie in that program. I was going through a tough time in my life (my mom was sick and it was a COVID lockdown), and I don’t know how many times I cried during that program. I learned about myself and my worth as a storyteller.
Q. You’ve also been active in uplifting other Indigenous creators, like through the Winnipeg Indigenous Filmmakers Collective. What shifts would you like to see in the Canadian film industry to create more space for Indigenous voices?
There are good shifts on both sides. There needs to be a really big mentality shift. I only say that because it took me such a long time to feel like I belong in this industry and am “allowed” to tell my stories. There needs to be an organizational shift where people offer what they are willing to offer, rather than the community asking and them saying no.
Why ask us for what support we need if you’re going to say no? Or act like it’s a burden. Like, if you have space for an Indigenous person in your workshop, give a free space because that shows that you really want them there and want change. I’m helping the community feel like they belong and letting them know their voices need to be heard. Let’s see where we are in five years.
Q. When you’re in the creative design phase of a new project, how do you balance your own artistic vision with collaboration from others on your team?
For the earlier part of my learning, I had to learn all departments, and I almost have. I usually like to know what their roles are so I can respectfully hire them and see how our collaboration can work. I get a general idea of what they do and how they can contribute because I’ll never know what they know, that’s why I’ve asked them to be part of my team. I’ll never know how long it takes to plan and create a look, or what types of materials are needed to build a set. I admire people who dedicate themselves to one thing well, because I sometimes feel like I am a jack of all trades and a master of none. But I enjoy being a leader.
Q. Storytelling is deeply tied to cultural protocols and traditions. How do those practices influence your filmmaking process?
Storytelling, for me, is community-based and person-to-person. Sometimes the story needs to be heard a few times to learn a lesson, especially in oral storytelling, and it was always connected to the land. That’s how our stories survived millennia. My connection to my stories is stronger and has more meaning because of what my elders and community taught me. I love sharing what I’ve learned, and doing that with filmmaking is truly special.
Q. Looking forward, are there stories or themes you haven’t yet had the chance to explore but feel called to? What’s next for you and Can Dream Productions?
I am ready to nerd out. I am writing my first feature, a supernatural teen drama, and I have my sights set on an Indigi, action-packed superhero-style series of films in my back pocket. I’m looking for an opportunity to direct some action films.
What comes through in every part of Rachel Beaulieu’s journey is her willingness to be vulnerable and to grow alongside the stories she tells. From listening to her father’s tall tales to weaving her own lived experiences into films like Ojichaag, Beaulieu shows us that storytelling is both personal and communal, grounded in respect for elders, protocols, and the land itself. Her reflections on mentorship, collaboration, and the challenges of navigating both independent and network productions remind us that filmmaking isn’t just about the finished product. It’s about the relationships built along the way. With her newly elected role on the Board of Directors for On Screen Manitoba, Beaulieu is poised to keep pushing the conversation forward about what Indigenous cinema can be and who it is for.
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