If you grew up in a house where the plastic was still on the good sofa or your grandmother lived in the room next to yours, Son of a Critch Season 1 is going to feel less like a sitcom and more like a personal attack. In a good way. It’s 1980s Newfoundland. It’s cold. Everything is brown or orange. And Mark Critch is an 11-year-old boy who somehow has the soul of a 60-year-old man.
Honestly, the show shouldn't work as well as it does. We’ve seen the "kid growing up in a specific decade" trope a million times. We had The Wonder Years. We had Everybody Hates Chris. We had The Goldbergs. But Mark Critch—the real-life Canadian comedy legend from 22 Minutes—teamed up with Tim McAuliffe to adapt his own memoir, and the result is something much weirder and more heartfelt than the usual sitcom fare.
It’s about being "old before your time." Mark doesn't want to play sports. He wants to listen to talk radio and hang out with his grandfather. It’s relatable because everyone felt like an alien at eleven.
The Weird Magic of 1980s St. John's
The setting is basically a character itself. St. John's, Newfoundland, in the mid-80s isn't the neon-soaked, synth-pop version of the eighties you see in Stranger Things. It’s gritty. It’s salt-of-the-earth. There’s a specific kind of "Cdn-maritime" aesthetic that the production design nails—the heavy wool coats, the wood-paneled walls, and the constant gray drizzle.
Benjamin Evan Ainsworth, a British kid who somehow mastered a very specific Newfoundland accent, plays young Mark. He’s incredible. He has this way of looking at the world with a mixture of terror and weary resignation. He’s a "mini-adult" who carries a briefcase to school. Think about that for a second. A briefcase. In a public school. It's social suicide, but he does it anyway because that’s who he is.
Most people get this show wrong by assuming it's just a "funny kid" show. It isn't. It’s a show about the isolation of being different in a place that deeply values fitting in.
Malcolm McDowell and the Pop-Pop Factor
Let’s talk about the casting of Malcolm McDowell. Yes, that Malcolm McDowell. The guy from A Clockwork Orange and Star Trek. He plays Pop-Pop, Mark’s grandfather, who shares a bedroom with him. It’s an odd-couple dynamic that actually happened in Mark Critch’s real life.
✨ Don't miss: The Lil Wayne Tracklist for Tha Carter 3: What Most People Get Wrong
McDowell doesn't play it for easy laughs. He’s cynical, he’s sharp, and he’s clearly a man who has seen a lot of life. The chemistry between a legendary English actor and a young kid from Nottingham (Ainsworth) playing Newfoundlanders is the backbone of Son of a Critch Season 1. They trade barbs like two old men at a pub. Pop-Pop is the one who gives Mark the bad advice he actually needs to survive middle school.
It’s not all jokes, though. There’s a scene early on where you realize Pop-Pop is the only person who truly sees Mark. Everyone else—his dad Mike (played by Mark Critch himself), his mom Mary—they love him, but they’re busy. Pop-Pop is just there. In the same room. Every night.
Why the Bullying Subplot Hits Different
The show introduces Ritchie Perez, played by Mark Rivera. Ritchie is the only person of color in the school, and he and Mark form this "alliance of the outsiders." Then there’s Fox.
Fox (Sophia Powers) is the "bully," but the show does something very smart and very human with her. She isn't a cartoon villain. She’s a girl from a rougher family who is dealing with her own set of problems. The way her relationship with Mark evolves over the first thirteen episodes is subtle. It’s not a "enemies to lovers" thing; it’s two kids realizing they both have it tough in different ways.
Social hierarchies in small-town Catholic schools are brutal. The show captures that pit-in-your-stomach feeling of walking down a hallway where you know you don't belong. It handles the nuances of 1980s social dynamics without being overly "preachy" or applying too much of a 2026 lens to the past. It just shows it as it was.
Realism vs. Sitcom Gloss
Mark Critch (the adult) playing his own father, Mike Sr., is a stroke of genius. Mike Sr. is a radio reporter for VOCM. He’s a man of the people, a guy who knows every fire chief and politician in town. Mark-the-actor plays his father with a mix of pride and mild confusion at his son’s existence.
🔗 Read more: Songs by Tyler Childers: What Most People Get Wrong
There's a specific texture to the dialogue. Newfoundlanders have a way of speaking that is rhythmic and fast. The show doesn't water it down for a global audience. It trusts you to keep up.
- The food is authentic: Jiggs dinner and tinned milk.
- The religion is heavy: Catholic school guilt is a recurring theme.
- The stakes are small but feel huge: Getting a seat on the bus or making a single friend.
One of the standout episodes involves Mark trying to "reinvent" himself to be cool. He fails. Spectacularly. It’s painful to watch because we’ve all been there—that moment you realize you can't just put on a different jacket and become a different person.
The Production Behind the Scenes
This isn't a high-budget Marvel show. It’s a CBC production that eventually found a huge home on The CW in the States and various streaming platforms. It was filmed on location in St. John's. When you see the colorful houses on the hills or the fog rolling in off the Atlantic, that’s real.
The show was actually one of the most-watched comedies in Canada when it debuted. Why? Because it’s honest. It doesn't rely on a laugh track. It lets the silence sit. Sometimes the joke is just a look Malcolm McDowell gives a piece of toast.
Critics like John Doyle from The Globe and Mail have pointed out how the show manages to be "sweet without being saccharine." That’s a hard line to walk. If you go too sweet, it’s boring. If you go too dark, it’s not a comedy. Son of a Critch Season 1 finds the sweet spot by acknowledging that childhood is often a series of small humiliations punctuated by very brief wins.
Addressing the "Misconceptions"
Some viewers think this is just a Canadian version of Young Sheldon. That’s a lazy comparison. While both feature a smart kid, Mark Critch isn't a "genius" in the scientific sense. He’s just a kid who likes old things. He’s a kid who feels more comfortable talking to his dad's friends than his own classmates.
💡 You might also like: Questions From Black Card Revoked: The Culture Test That Might Just Get You Roasted
Also, don't go in expecting a high-speed gag-a-minute show. It’s a "dramedy" in the truest sense. You’ll laugh, but you might also feel a weird lump in your throat when Mark realizes his grandfather won't be around forever.
The Actual Impact of the First Season
By the time you hit the season finale, "Save the Last Dance for Me," the show has shifted. It moves from a series of vignettes about school life into a genuine family saga. You see the cracks in the parents' marriage, the loneliness of the grandfather, and the burgeoning realization in Mark that his childhood is something he will eventually have to leave behind.
It’s about the "loss of innocence," but not in a tragic way. More like a slow fading of the colors.
Actionable Takeaways for New Viewers
If you’re just starting Son of a Critch Season 1, here is how to get the most out of it:
- Watch with the family. This is one of the few modern shows that actually works for 10-year-olds and 80-year-olds simultaneously. The humor is clean but sharp enough for adults.
- Pay attention to the background. The Easter eggs for anyone who lived through the 80s are everywhere—from the specific brands of soda to the posters on the walls.
- Don't skip the intro. The music and the montage perfectly set the tone for the "old soul" vibe of the show.
- Research the real Mark Critch. After watching a few episodes, look up the real Mark’s work on This Hour Has 22 Minutes. Seeing the adult he became makes the "kid" version of him even funnier.
- Check out the memoir. The show is based on the book Son of a Critch: A Childish Newfoundland Memoir. It provides a lot of the internal monologue that the show has to express through acting.
The series is a masterclass in regional storytelling. It proves that the more specific you are about a place—the more you lean into the local slang and the local weather—the more universal the story becomes. We don't all live in St. John's, but we've all been Mark. We've all been the kid with the briefcase, metaphorically speaking, just trying to survive the school day.
The first season sets a high bar for what a coming-of-age story can be when it's told with genuine affection for the past rather than just a desire to mock it. It’s a "small" show that feels massive because it captures the huge emotions of being small.
If you want to understand why Canadian comedy has such a distinct, self-deprecating edge, this is where you start. It’s the origin story of a comedian, sure, but it’s also just a story about a family trying to stay warm in a very cold place. Take the time to sit through the first few episodes. Let the rhythm of the Newfoundland "townie" accent settle in. By the end of the season, you’ll feel like you’ve lived in that wood-paneled house right alongside them.