VIFF 2024: ‘Universal Language’ Review
Writer-director Matthew Rankin’s films are a warm mix of nostalgia and absurdism as he pays homage to cinema of the past while maintaining a modern feel to it all. Where his feature debut, The Twentieth Century, seemed indebted to silent cinema and the surrealist charms of Canadian director Guy Maddin, and its production design and eccentric performances left the film skewering Canada and its historical figures, Rankin finds a different lens to view Canada in his sophomore feature. With obvious cinematic touchstones, including Iranian cinema legends such as the works of Jafar Panahi, Abbas Kiarostami, and Mohsen Makhmalbaf, Universal Language draws from a well of very specific stylistic and thematic inspirations to create a Canada that is familiar yet strange. By portraying a bilingual Canada that speaks Persian and French instead of English, there’s an immediate ridiculous quality to Rankin’s film. However, through its cast of endearing characters, he weaves together a silly and heartwarming depiction of hometowns still as familiar as the day they were left behind.
Universal Language feels frozen in time. It’s not just the landscape covered in snow, the monuments to arbitrary moments in Winnipeg history, or the people toiling away at day jobs that meet very specific needs (my favorite being the Kleenex repository and a shop that only sells birthday cakes). Rankin’s film feels thawed out from an earlier time in cinema, so much so that it features a character, Matthew (played by Rankin), who revisits his hometown only to discover his family different from how he left them. Leaving behind his government job in Montreal, where a mostly empty government office with a man sobbing in his cubicle drives home the loneliness and isolation permeating throughout the adult lives in Universal Language, Matthew catches a bus with a turkey and a frustrated schoolteacher. While the film pays clear homage to the films of Roy Andersson in its bleak and deadpan absurdism, once Matthew returns to Winnipeg, the film returns to its Iranian cinematic influence.
In his hometown, a quest for a 500 Riel bill (the currency in Rankin’s depiction of Winnipeg, coined after Métis leader Louis Riel) frozen in ice takes schoolchildren Negin (Rojina Esmaeili) and Nazgol (Saba Vahedyousefi) on a journey through their hometown, meeting strange people living their day-to-day lives, confused by the questions asked by the children. Their adventure is reminiscent of Panahi’s The White Balloon, though the surrounding city resembles what would be in a Wes Anderson or Guy Maddin film more than Panahi’s. That strange mix of influences from Kiarostami to Andersson to Maddin gives Universal Language its distinct charm but also feels like a natural progression from Rankin’s The Twentieth Century. The plot is straightforward, but the journey to its resolution is filled with distractions and detours that exhaust its characters and force them to find comfort in the familiar.
There’s an aesthetic quality to Louisa Schabas’ production design and Isabelle Stachtchenko’s cinematography that frames Rankin’s film with wonder and sadness. Winnipeg is not exactly one of the most exciting places to visit in Canada, but I say that as someone who has lived across the country and visited more of it. Yet, Maddin and Rankin have turned their hometown into the most distinctly Canadian city in cinema. Schabas captures that bleak outside view of the city as monuments are put up in random spots where the rest of the world maneuvers around them (a highway built around one such ludicrous memorial is just one example). They are nothing special. However, Winnipeg's residents need to memorialize and appreciate their history, as emphasized by a tour guide who takes them through barren shopping malls and desolate streets only to reminisce over torn-down cinemas and briefcases left behind.
However, while the city may appear antiquated and forgotten, the people cherish what they have. Rankin’s depiction of a Tim Hortons (where the logo is written in Farsi instead of English) may not appear any different from a Tim Hortons in reality, but Rankin also sees the community that will take the time to sit inside and discuss their troubles. Matthew’s journey to visit his family takes him to his family home, which is different yet still has remnants of its past etched into its structure. However, he’s welcomed and helped in finding his mother. This is the celebration of the human condition that Rankin finds so powerful as schoolchildren spend their night assisting a student in buying new glasses or the previously mentioned tour guide takes a stranger to reconnect with his family. The people change, but the sense of community remains the same.
Rankin’s clever decision to turn the screenplay (co-written by Rankin, Pirouz Nemati, and Ila Firouzabadi) into a celebration of a diaspora rather than an autobiographical trip down memory lane leaves Universal Language with a much more touching and heartfelt tribute to Winnipeg and Canada than one person’s memories could ever provide. It’s in touch with the cinema of multiple nations, yet its ability to translate the tenets of its Iranian cinematic influences to a film that still feels distinctly Canadian speaks volumes about what Rankin is trying to convince its audience within the film. Universal Language shows how care and kindness can transcend cultural and national differences. A Tim Hortons doesn’t have to be just a coffee shop that serves Timbits and Double-Doubles. It merely needs to comfort its patrons with that familiar reminder of home. Idealistic as it may sound, Rankin’s film is a reminder of the comfort that human connection brings in even the most bleak of circumstances.
The 2024 edition of the Vancouver International Film Festival will take place between September 26th and October 6th. More information on the lineup can be found on the festival's official website.
