‘Universal Language’ Speaks Volumes

In the hazy 2000s, where Canada is reimagined as an Iranian diaspora, three distinct storylines weave between each other, intersecting in unexpected ways. 

Starring, directed and co-written by Canadian filmmaker Matthew Rankin, “Universal Language” is a meditation on the mundane, as well as the invisible connection that binds communities together.

The film features both Persian and French dialogue, with some characters switching languages mid-conversation. Farsi adorns buildings, signs and billboards, making the Canadian setting unidentifiable if it wasn’t for the presence of Canuck landmarks, such as the iconic Farine Five Roses sign. 

“Universal Language” takes place in an indiscernible time period, with time itself acting enigmatic in the movie. Even though the events of the film occur over the span of a day, its creeping pace makes it feel like a lifelong adventure.

Little digital technology — if any — is present in the film, allowing for the characters’ motivations and actions to take center stage without modern distractions.

School girls Negin (Rojina Esmaeili) and Nazgol (Saba Vahedyousefi) find a single dollar bill frozen in ice. While trying to obtain it, they meet Massoud (Pirouz Nemati), an overly passionate Winnipeg tour guide who advises them to find an axe to break the money free.

On their journey to find an axe, Negin and Nazgol encounter Matthew (Rankin), an apathetic government employee on a pilgrimage to reunite with his mother.

Though the characters’ lives are completely separate, their actions affect one another both directly and indirectly. The non-linear storyline explores these intricacies by showing multiple vantage points for single scenes.

Brutalist architecture takes precedence, with vertical compositions of cement backing the movie. Tall structures loom over scenes, causing the actors to look like ants in comparison. In contrast, flat, snow-covered plains make the subjects stick out, like grains of pepper sprinkled across a white tablecloth.

Muted colors, simple shapes and repeating facades overwhelm the viewer’s senses. Concrete aqueducts, spiraling parking garages and monotonous storefronts are ever-present, appearing around every corner, along every street.

The seemingly endless sets create an ultra-mundane — bordering on boring — environment, setting the stage for the film’s surreal comedy. In an aesthetically dull classroom, when asked what they want to be when they grow up, the children’s answers range from fashion photographer to donkey breeder, juxtaposed by a live donkey wandering outside.

An anthropomorphic Christmas tree and Kleenex-obsessed bingo players also feature as obscure side characters. 

Matthew finds his friend’s grave in a cemetery in the middle of a busy highway. The cars speeding by just feet from the headstone create a stark dichotomy of silly randomness and debilitating grief.

Along with Rankin, cinematographer Isabelle Stachtchenko’s vision for the film is executed through unconventional camera work. Many indoor scenes are shot through cross-section-esque windows, much like a child would play with dolls in a doll house.

In a scene between Matthew and his boss, the camera dizzyingly switches position across the room each time one of them speaks — a comedic effect that grew in intensity as the scene progressed.

The overt strangeness of the film’s humor is aided by the lack of a score, with many of the dialogue-less moments filled only by sounds of crunching snow, whipping wind or utter silence. 

In rare instances, though, traditional Persian melodies play. In a dream sequence, a pair of men play hammered dulcimers, surrounded by a sea of candles and encircled by a faceless ice skater. Glittery snow falls from the sky as the ghostly music guides the ice dancer’s mysterious movements.

The movie’s absurd haphazardness is elevated by the motif of turkeys, lauded in the film as both an important food source and poultry royalty. The turkeys, which are native to the Americas, wouldn’t be found in Iran, making them feel out of place in the film’s Iranian-Canadian setting. 

However, the characters’ praise of the birds exemplifies the importance of acceptance in their community, according to Nemanti.

“But with the turkey, you get community, you get togetherness,” Nemati said in an interview with The Asian Cut. “So, in a way, it was the symbol of community and of the place where we were.”

The gobbling creatures constantly grace the screen — trotting through the snow, posed in a framed photograph and embarking on a cross-country bus ride.

“He was the most voluptuous turkey I’ve ever seen,” a turkey-obsessed butcher says after paying for the bird’s bus fare. “I met him online. We texted for months until I knew he was the one.”

At the crossroads of Iranian and Canadian culture, “Universal Language” is a unique mixture of surrealism and normalcy. The result is a simultaneously intimate and otherworldly fly-on-the-wall take on human relationships. 

Massoud’s description of a local landmark — a suitcase on a bench left undisturbed for decades — seems to encapsulate the film’s sentiment — “A monument to absolute inter-human solidarity, even at its most basic and banal.”

“Universal Language” is playing in select theaters.