UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE is the second feature film of Canadian director-actor-writer Matthew Rankin, nominated for 10 major categories at the 2025 Canadian Screen Award Nominations.
Although primarily categorised as a comedy, Rankin’s work is also known for its experimental and surrealist elements, and Universal Language is no exception. Best described as a “kaleidoscope of encounters”1, the film reads as an absurdist social commentary that blurs the line between cultures. It is existential in its sense of humour and filled with cryptic visual metaphors that are left to unpick long after credits roll.
The film interweaves the lives of four central characters: Negin and Nazgol who attend an unorthodox school in Winnipeg, the unconventional but dedicated Winnipeg tour guide Massoud, and Matthew, played by the director himself, who unexpectedly quits his job and embarks on a journey to reconnect with his parents. The lives of these individuals collide through a series of seemingly inconsequential encounters and eventually culminate in a perfectly set up intervention.
Rankin’s style of filmmaking is heavily influenced by Iranian cinema, particularly the phenomenon of ‘meta-realism’ which emerged from Kanoon (The Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young People), which merges cinematic realism with elements of artifice2. It makes sense then, that Universal Language proposes an alternate reality where Persian is the main language spoken in Canada, co-existing with French. This is an important detail for audiences watching with subtitles, since much of the initial humour lies in the characters’ switch between languages.
Throughout the film we are introduced to a quotidian, yet occasionally dystopian, world which is beautifully shot with Wes Anderson-esque symmetry and precision, but also appears to be depressingly bleak. It is filled with almost identical neighbourhoods labelled as Beige, Brown or Grey zones, messages plastered on public walls claiming ‘a strong economy helps to prevent feelings of worthlessness’, market stalls run by uninspired, zombie-like salespeople, mindless activities like bingo night where a lifetime supply of Kleenex is the first prize, and an office cubicle where a suited man wails uncontrollably but is ignored by his boss. In this world, the majority of the adult characters we observe are consumed by the monotony of their day-to-day life, they complaisantly fulfill mindless, robotic routines in order to maintain the status quo. At times this is comically pushed to the extreme in true absurdist fashion, like in the scene where Matthew wants to buy ‘large-size sleeping pills’ and the pharmacist simply responds with ‘life is worth living’.
The children of this world, on the other hand, seem to be the most alert and the only ones who question absurd behaviour, which is why it is interesting to reflect on the influence of the Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young People. It is evident throughout the film when Rankin chooses to highlight the naive or non-conforming perspective of younger characters, like Negin and Nazgol, because the camera stays on their reactions whilst the dialogue of the adults is heard off-screen. A clear example is an early scene at the flower shop, where the young girl is gifted a potted flower as a token of ‘good-fortune’ in the future. Matthew then enters the shop and we hear him argue with the owner off-screen, but we only see the girl’s reaction to the events and her final decision to gift Matthew her flower, which we later on discover was for his father’s grave. Consequently, a symbol which pertained good fortune for a young mind is instead used to honour someone who is already dead. This is one of the few subtle examples during the film which seem to highlight how the future of the younger generation is indirectly hindered by the actions of thoughtless adults. Of course, there may be many other interpretations of the true meaning of examples like this one, but what is clear is that on multiple occasions, Rankin makes a deliberate choice to favour the children’s point of view over that of the adults speaking.
On this front, the performance of the cast as a whole is to be commended for their infallible inhabitation of this absurdist world. Though a great majority of the exchanges between characters have an off-putting or alienating effect, the actors’ delivery is entirely embodied and unflinchingly honest. Amongst all of the examples of manipulation and aggression, there are also golden moments of true empathetic connection which seem to freeze the timeline of the story. The most potent example is the scene where Matthew is hugged by a kind friend he encounters on his journey, it is a beautiful goodbye that is held for a long time, yet somehow not long enough. This moment of connection, filled with nostalgia, comfort and longing, is something that doesn’t require a language to be understood. This to me is the essence of the film.
And since it is a film that so intricately explores human interaction, it is one to watch in good company. I must admit it was incredibly frustrating to watch the film alone and not be able to discuss it with anyone because, as I mentioned in the beginning, there will be a multitude of metaphors, analogies and phrases that up for interpretation and call for further discussion.
By Franca Lafosse.
Bibliography:
- https://www.classiccinemas.com.au/movies/universal-language#:~:text=The%20Story,Matthew%20Rankin
- https://filmmakermagazine.com/126083-matthew-rankin-universal-language/