Few things in any culture carry as much absurdity and potency as its superstitions. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a endearing five-year-old who has recently relocated back to Taipei with her mother and elder sibling. She gets literal firsthand experience when her grandfather scolds her for using her left hand for everything – it’s not natural, he insists; it’s the devil at work, he claims.
As I-Jing stares at her limb with concern, a new connection forms between her and her so-called sinister hand while she navigates city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, debut solo director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, captures the frenetic energy and sensory immersion of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters overtake the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of garbage trucks fills the air; the fluid exchange of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against grimy buildings that nearly make you smell the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s not so much a love letter from a fan as it is a devotional to a place deeply familiar. Tsou pairs the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the complexities of imperfect people – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a masterpiece of a film.
Family Relationships and Inner Conflicts
The drama, Taiwan’s entry for best foreign language film at the Oscars, begins with I-Jing, her older sister, and her mom in a rebuild stage. Pensive mom Shu-Fen has set up a night market noodles stand, and the unpredictable I-Ann has left high school and works at a betel nut stall, where she’s sleeping with her boss. I-Jing, played by the very charming Nina Ye, begins a new school and, with the curiosity only a child can have, tests out the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.
As she starts pocketing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, distinguishing a right hand that does what’s expected and the other that pursues what the heart desires, Tsou gracefully reflects each character’s own dualities. Here, the film delineates the intricacies between what a person feels duty-bound to and what she truly wants: Shu-Fen can’t free herself from her former husband’s debts; I-Ann feels relegated to the role her mom wants her to play as she watches her peers move forward; I-Jing is told to be present but silent.
Visual Storytelling and Emotional Resonance
Tsou, along with Baker as editor and Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao as cinematographers, expertly places us onto each family member’s individual worlds, with many shots capturing the lively and charming rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re eye-level with I-Jing as she makes her first pilfering, the adrenaline rushing with a camera unsteady and beat staccato. The camera sweeps above as I-Ann rides her scooter at night, city lights shimmering in the heat, bringing an boundless feeling of freedom with a pain that’s hers alone to feel.
A sense of duty is expertly integrated into each conundrum, as well as the loneliness that comes with it – it’s at once personal and saddening to see how duty is often a lonely journey. We see it when I-Jing tries in sincerity to draw with her right hand, when I-Ann lays in bed after being mocked at an ex-classmate’s motel party. Meanwhile, Shu-Fen scrambles to make rent, her own mom irritated she needs help yet again. “A married daughter’s like water that’s poured out,” says the grandma; a son would have still been her responsibility.
Lighter Moments and Performances
There are also moments of levity and fun, especially with the grandma’s flashes of indignation, time with a meerkat that becomes I-Jing’s pet, and I-Jing’s general delight with the world. Ye, who is a left-hander in real life, perfectly balances of an innocent child absorbing the financial realities and unfamiliar forces – Shu-Fen’s ex, the grandma’s hijinks, I-Ann and Shu-Fen’s bickering – that surround her. Ma’s I-Ann, too, is a thoughtful portrait of an acerbic teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an undeniable but unaffordable emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.
Final Acts and Themes
By the dramatic penultimate dinner scene, the clan has nurtured big secrets that lead to the ultimate Taiwanese diu lian (losing of face): getting humiliated in front of an audience. And the disclosures are powerful – by that point, it’s like discovering a juicy, painful secret about a dear friend. Tsou and Baker’s script sharply examines what it really means to lose face: which disgraces are noble, which are indulgent, and what should be passed from one generation to the next?
Some of these bombs are left unexcavated after the big showdown, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you dissatisfied – but perhaps also realizing that airing everything doesn’t mean resolution or a tidy adage immediately follows, or that there will be a sinister influence to blame. Instead, perhaps the city just wakes up to another day, and, a little freer (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Release Information: The film is available in select cinemas on 14 November and on streaming platforms from November 28.
