Meditative Meandering

One of the consequences of limited theatrical distribution for international cinema in the United States is the lack of diversity within each country’s output. Few theaters will routinely show international titles, and the films that do play correspond with the selections chosen by each nation for consideration at the Academy Awards. As perusal with film awards, the titles selected are weighted with additional responsibilities, as they’re intended to showcase the nation’s identity to an audience of voters. This year’s international feature frontrunners are all centered on critical social, economic, and political issues; Emilia Perez examined the drug war in Mexico, The Seed of the Sacred Fig explored the authoritarian regime in Tehran, The Girl With The Needle brought to life a previously unknown horror story from Danish history, and even the more classically romantic Vermiglio placed a spotlight on rural Italy in the wake of war.

The hurdle that a nation like Canada has historically faced is the formation of a thesis on national identity that’s worthy of conversation; while there have been debates regarding the nation’s foreign policy and conservationist efforts, its absence from the international press cycle could be tied to its underperformance at the Academy Awards. Only seven Canadian films have been nominated in the Best International Feature category, and the 2003 satire The Barbarian Invasions is the nation’s only winner. The Barbarian Invasions defined the notion of “crossover appeal” that most arthouse titles seek; it was an accessible farce that also examined societal roles, economic displacement, and cultural identity. It’s not a coincidence that this year’s submission, Universal Language, is similar.

As the title suggests, Universal Language is a consideration of how the lack of a homogeneous social, ethnic, or cultural identity in Canada has made it a greater challenge to summarize the nation’s placement within global politics. As a result, Universal Language has drawn from a multitude of influences; there’s a lot borrowed from the Iranian neo-realist movement, the deadpan contempt of European humorists, and a few references to the Marx Brothers. References to specific moments in Canada's modern political history (such as the 1995 Quebec referendum) may be lost on some audiences, but even a novice cinephile could recognize that the picturesque framing in Universal Language is derived from the same cinematic heritage as the work of Wes Anderson. Universal Language is both indulgent in the familiar and aggressive in its absurdism.

Much of the film’s joy is the creative way in which director Matthew Rankin has chosen to unfold his story. Nonetheless, the inciting incident of this strangely meta dark comedy is the arrival of the timid boy Omid (Sobhan Javadi) at his elementary school in the aftermath of a strange encounter with a wild turkey that caused him to lose his glasses. Despite the frustration that Omid’s truthful (if seemingly absurd) excuse inspired in his teacher, the young protagonists of Universal Language are faced with a crisis of confidence when they uncover 500 Rial frozen in the middle of the chilly ice. However, the film isn’t content to keep its protagonists consistent; a tour guide from Winnipeg is set on his own adventure, and a mild-mannered man (played by Rankin) makes the abrupt decision to abandon his responsibilities in order to resurrect his nostalgic home.

The iconography and architecture of Universal Language is exclusive to Canada, but the film is far less austere in its details. Each misadventure is riddled with background details, some of which require a greater depth of knowledge than others. A gag about the search for one specific building within a block of identical establishments is classically ironic, as are the oddly specific properties that populate Rankin’s sprawling environment; these include a “Kleenex Repository” and an abandoned mall that has allowed tourist to stay for no more than 30 seconds at a time. Rankin has given each witticism the chance to run its course, but has avoided the needless quest for continuity.

Universal Language isn’t incendiary in its connection to current socio-political issues, but it’s not hard to find traces of modernism within Rankin’s timeless series of imaginative escapades. A joke about the auction of gender identity during the holiday season makes it clear how absurd it is to boil sexuality down to a binary; similarly, the omnipresence of Iranian music is representative of how indebted the nation’s folklore is to its immigrant population. Although a character’s disillusionment with Quebec’s politics does add some narrative thrust to the film’s final third, the criticisms are far more tongue-in-cheek than inflammatory.

An issue that most satires face is the construction of a parallel world that’s familiar and distinguishable. A film like Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis was too heavy-handed in its allusions to Ancient Rome and New York high society to feel distinct from reality. Universal Language is so erratic in its narrative that the ideas become more prominent than the overarching plot points.