El idioma universal

This brilliant gem of film traces the the interacting lives of a group of children trying to find some money to help a schoolmate and a son returning for his mother's birthday. T The film establishes a unique and somewhat surreal fantasy universe, where most residents speak Farsi and have Iranian descent. The setting, characterized by graveyards alongside highways, empty malls, and rural bars, evokes a sense of emptiness and isolation reminiscent of the show "Northern Exposure" after developers arrived in the town. Like "Northern Exposure," "Universal Language" centers around the central decency and humanity of its characters. The film's peculiarity lies in its exceptional use of cuts, shots, and color, which prevents it from becoming cloying. Instead, it serves as an earnest exploration of memory and responsibility.

Universal Language is an intriguing film that tells three stories set in Winnipeg, Canada. A government worker in Quebec leaves his job and heads for home to see the mother he left years ago. A tour guide shows the curious tourist attractions of Winnipeg in the most bizarre of the three stories. Finally, two children try and rescue a large bill frozen in ice so that a school friend can buy much needed glasses.

All three of these stories on the surface sound naturalistic, but director Mathew Rankin has a few tricks up his sleeve.

For instance, all of these stories take place in the Iranian communities of Winnipeg. Are there Iranians in Canada? Yes, according to Wikipedia, .8% of Canadians are of Iranian descent. That means about eight in one thousand. However, Universal Language takes place in a world where nearly half of the country (or at least nearly half of Winnipeg) is Iranian. Signs are in both French and Farsi (strangely, none in English). Also, while I don't know much about money in either Canada or Iran, I doubt if either country has Edgar Allan Poe on its currency (although they should).

This summary sounds like a weird comedy in the Guy Maddin tradition, and some of Universal Language has that vibe. However, there is a serious side to the film. The story with the children trying to rescue a bill from ice recalls the children focused Iranian films Children of Heaven and The White Balloon. Like those film, the story has an earnest quality to it even with the bizarre touches (like the butcher hot to show his turkey decapitating saw to the children).

Finally, I must mention the reunion between the government worker and his mother. The film concludes with a sadness that I had not expected.

Universal Language is not a film for everyone. I was the only viewer of the four in the theater to find the film funny. The other three did not seem to "get" the film. That is too bad. Universal Language is a film that deserves more recognition than it has received.

For its creativity, inventiveness, soundtrack, boldness, unique humor, cast, and sociolinguistic vision, it's a yes. For the film's length, contextual setup, and a few redundancies, it's less so. Excellent directing technique and a brilliant idea in how the characters are written in one of the film's final scenes (a remarkable process) and its significance up to the end. One shouldn't go into this movie expecting a linear narrative. That said, this aspect doesn't truly detract from the quality of the plot. A beautiful progression from Rankin as a director since his film The Twentieth Century. A few common elements between these two productions (dreamlike quality, kitsch...) are already beginning to define what will become his personal signature over time.

From its cinematography and its usual search for symmetry, static or in traveling shots, and pleasant aesthetics with a dreamlike atmosphere enhancing the settings universality, to its story revolving around different characters, how their lives intersect and enliven a dialogue sometimes polite, other times not so much, a Wes Anderson influence crosses Matthew Rankin's feature from beginning to end.

As in Anderson's films, Rankin's is interested in exploring the reality of his film, a reality full of idiosyncrasies that serve as fertile ground for comedy. An angry teacher in a class shouting at the students, one of whom claims a turkey stole his glasses; another one is dressed up as a Groucho Marx as he wants to be a comedian; and another as a fashionista. A freelance tourist guide with strange choices for his tour, etc. With a comedy consisting of wry, deadpan, and dark humor, Une langue universelle manages to be hilarious every time it wants to. There are many times when its happenings border absurdism or surrealism, furthering the comedy that bathes it yet never undermining its aim at thought-provoking profundity. Rankin's dexterity manages to evoke a surrealist dreamlike fable but also an expressive introspective melancholy. Elements and sentiments that coalesce and give life to a special experience between places and times, realities and dreams. For instance, in the reality of the movie, even if we are in Canada, French, let alone English, seems to be a second language, and in its place there is Persian. They all speak it, and signs and billboards are written in it, rendering its result as something close yet distant, known and unknown intermingle in a culturally and demographically blind new reality.

In terms of cinematography, many times resembling that of Anderson, more in framing and movement than in color palette, there is a constant will to inhabit the spaces where the characters are in. The camera is sometimes static from a distance, observing their movement and how it affects the surroundings instead of focusing on their faces and expressions with close-ups. It is as if the place is as important as the characters for the telling of the story, and Rankin wants to make sure we delve into it as tourists from a foreign land. And while in terms of names we may know these cities, in the framework of the movie and its demographic profile unmatching our knowledge, there may be reasons to delve into these spaces.

What happens when you take the cultural traditions of two seemingly distant worlds and fuse them into a chaotically harmonious mosaic? In "Universal Language", Matthew Rankin crafts a story that's both absurdly specific and oddly universal, examining Canadian identity through the lens of a deeply personal reimagining. The result is an ode to multiculturalism, brimming with ironic humor, cultural parodies, and a warm humanity that transcends linguistic boundaries.

From the start, Rankin plunges us into an alternate Canada where Farsi and French are the official languages. This choice might seem random at first, but it's actually a meticulous effort to subvert traditional narratives of Canadian identity. The visual humor-like a Winnipeg school sign written in Persian script-sets the film's quirky tone, blending magical realism with deadpan comedy. Professor Bilodeau, played with biting wit by Mani Soleymanlou, becomes both a symbol of everyday exasperation and a tragicomic figure embodying the tensions between cultural tradition and innovation.

The journey of sisters Negin (Rojina Esmaeili) and Nazgol (Saba Vahedyousefi) captures Rankin's vision of childhood as a realm of improbable discoveries and absurd adventures. When they find a frozen banknote stuck in ice, their innocent desire to free it morphs into a mission that takes them through brutalist neighborhoods with monochromatic names. This icy, concrete setting deliciously contrasts with the cultural vibrancy brought to life by the sisters' Farsi dialogue and boundless energy. Their quest isn't just about retrieving a piece of money-it's a metaphor for perseverance and the search for meaning in an often indifferent world.

In a parallel narrative, Rankin inserts himself as a fictionalized version of himself, delivering a storyline that's equal parts comedic and introspective. His journey to visit his ailing mother in Manitoba highlights the peculiarities of Canadian life: a live turkey with its own seat on the bus, banal monuments celebrated as historical landmarks. This balance between the mundane and the surreal is where the film truly shines, transforming small, everyday details into sharp commentary on national identity, collective memory, and the bonds that connect us.

Rankin's cinematic influences are both obvious and masterfully employed. Winnipeg's aesthetic recalls the work of Guy Maddin, while the bizarre scenarios evoke Roy Andersson's humor. Yet at its heart, the film pulses with the sensitivity of Abbas Kiarostami. The classroom scenes, blending humor with a touch of melancholy, are a direct homage to Iranian cinema, adding a layer of universality that transcends geography. This cultural connection isn't a superficial gimmick but is deeply woven into the narrative, reflecting Rankin's genuine effort to explore what it means to belong in a constantly shifting world.

Even in its lightheartedness, "Universal Language" delivers a sharp critique of identity and cultural integration. By reimagining Canada as a space shared between two cultures, the film challenges xenophobia and isolation, offering a vision where differences are celebrated rather than erased. There's also a playful provocation in the film's visual and narrative choices, like Tim Hortons signs written in Farsi or pharmacies embracing the exaggerated minimalism of the No Name brand. These local jokes might not land as strongly with international audiences, but they add layers of authenticity for those familiar with Canadian cultural symbols.

What truly elevates "Universal Language", though, is its ability to balance absurdity with empathy. No matter how eccentric the situations get-whether it's Turks navigating the city or reenactments of 1950s parking lot incidents-the film never loses sight of its characters' humanity. The third act's role-swapping among actors reinforces the idea that, despite cultural or linguistic differences, we share a common essence.

In the end, Rankin delivers more than a film-he offers a cinematic experience that challenges conventions while celebrating life's complexity. "Universal Language" isn't just a cultural satire or a surreal homage; it's a reminder that, even in a fragmented world, there's still room for connection, understanding, and, of course, a little bit of madness.