Universal Language Is One of the Best (And Oddest) Surprises of 2025
I’ve been thinking about Quebec an odd amount recently. Charles Taylor’s essay The Politics of Recognition observes the unique social reality of Quebec as an interesting case for questions of multiculturalism. Despite being part of Canada, Quebec has maintained its distinct character, insisting on the prevalence of French as the region’s lingua franca. And in 1995 the citizens of Quebec voted on a referendum to decide whether the province would secede from Canada to form its own, independent nation. After much debate and controversy, the vote narrowly landed on the side of remaining joined to Canada. It all makes for a fascinating cultural situation, and it raises the question of what other odd multicultural scenarios might arise.
Matthew Rankin’s Universal Language takes inspiration from Quebec’s unique status (and directly references the 1995 referendum), but it refracts it in unanticipated and playful ways. Universal Language transforms Winnipeg into an imagined community where Persian, reflecting the demographics of Rankin’s fictionalized version of the city, is the common language. “Welcome to Winnipeg” is arrayed in Persian on highway signs, and Tim Horton’s is reimagined as a tea house (though posters of hockey players still adorn the walls). If it all sounds silly, well, the absurdity is just beginning.
The synopsis for Universal Language describes it as residing “somewhere between Tehran and Winnipeg.” Similarly, perhaps the most succinct stylistic description for the film would be: somewhere between Abbas Kiarostami and Wes Anderson. The references to the former are intentional, with some early homages to Where Is the Friend’s House? as a teacher chastises the kids in his French class. Kiarostami, in fact, created educational short films early in his career (e.g., Two Solutions for One Problem, Orderly or Disorderly), and Rankin appears quite familiar with them. After all, what could be more orderly than a child monitoring turns on the swing at recess, ensuring that each kid only takes three swings before letting the next one go?
Rankin’s film is undeniably odd—difficult to describe, a curious recommendation—yet it’s so wistful and sincere that it’s easy to be won over by the end. Told via vignettes that eventually intersect, we meet the residents of Winnipeg as they struggle through their day. Two girls, Negin and Nazgol (Rojina Esmaeili and Saba Vahedyousefi, respectively), find money frozen in ice and plot to extract it; Matthew (played by the director), quits his job in Quebec and returns home, but finds that his childhood home has been sold to another family; Massoud (Pirouz Nemati) tries to keep his municipal tour group engaged, which becomes an increasingly difficult task. The odd turns of their day find them crossing paths with others: a boy who allegedly had his glasses stolen by a turkey, a cemetery lacrimologist (i.e., one who collects the tears of the grieving), a Persian teacher who swears he’s the coolest because he talks to his kids in French (“I’m not like other authority figures!”). Universal Language doesn’t care to explain its digressions, instead inviting us to share in the absurdity. It’s a warm invitation, and the absurdity is abundant. The scenes almost stand alone, though as the stories converge, the wit becomes multifaceted, achieving sharp payoffs from setups that began far earlier in the film. I’m going to refrain from describing many of the scenes further, because it’s worth being surprised by each new turn as the film portrays these odd vignettes of odd lives.
The film maintains an understated style, but that doesn’t stop many of the moments from being laugh out loud funny. I will have lines such as “Let’s honor his memory with thirty minutes of silence,” “His gobbling breathed life into my soul,” and “No, but many nice, unknown people have lived here” ringing around in my head for years to come. (They’ll join First Cow’s “Sorry about your husband” in terms of hilarious quotes that I will probably never find a real social use for.) The dialogue is delivered as dry as can be, and the symmetric frames evoke Wes Anderson’s visual sensibilities. Much of the humor, in fact, comes from this style, as the scenes are staged in tableaus with visual jokes layered in (such as the hockey posters in Tim Horton’s). There are so many good, dry reveals—my favorite being the slow pull back of a frame at a funeral, which I won’t spoil.
By the film’s end, however, it’s clear that all the absurdity is in service of real heart. This really is the creation of an imagined community, a place where people care for those around them. Where friends, neighbors, and citizens meld into a family. For all its dry charm, it also surprises with simple, cutting lines: “Agha, would you like to cry?” The movie’s invitation is expansive and compassionate. It’s heartfelt and bizarre, quirky and textured. I’m still not sure how best to describe Rankin’s movie, but I do unabashedly recommend it. If you’re in the mood for an oddball comedy, this is worth the time.
Note: Universal Language is currently available on Kanopy for free with a library account.
