Few things in any society carry as much ridiculousness and potency as its superstitions. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a sweet five-year-old who has recently relocated back to Taipei with her mother and elder sibling. She gets literal firsthand experience when her grandfather warns her for using her left hand for everything – it’s unnatural, he insists; it’s evil, he claims.
As I-Jing examines her limb with dismay, a new connection forms between her and her so-called devil hand while she explores city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, debut solo director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the dynamic vibe and sensory immersion of Taipei. Bright red Chinese characters cover the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of trash-collecting trucks fills the air; the fluid exchange of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against grimy buildings that nearly evoke the scent the specific essence of a vibrant, humid city. It’s less a love letter from a fan as it is a devotional to a place known by heart. Tsou combines the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the complexities of imperfect people – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and delivering a triumph 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 dropped out and works at a betel nut stall, where she’s sleeping with her boss. I-Jing, played by the very charming Nina Ye, starts a new school and, with the wonder only a child can have, experiments with the potential of this newly labeled devil hand.
As she starts pocketing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, separating a good hand that does what’s expected and the other that entertains what the heart desires, Tsou skillfully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film portrays the complexities between what a person feels obligated to and what she truly wants: Shu-Fen can’t untangle herself from her trash ex-husband’s debts; I-Ann feels relegated to the role her mom wants her to play as she watches her peers advance; I-Jing is told to be present but silent.
Visual Storytelling and Emotional Depth
Tsou, along with Baker as editor and Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao as cinematographers, expertly lands us onto each family member’s individual worlds, with many shots capturing the frisky and delightful rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re at the same height with I-Jing as she makes her first theft, the adrenaline rushing with a camera shaky and beat abrupt. The camera pans overhead 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 isolation that comes with it – it’s at once intimate and saddening to see how duty is often a solitary experience. We see it when I-Jing tries in sincerity to draw with her right hand, when I-Ann rests in bed after being mocked at an ex-classmate’s motel party. Meanwhile, Shu-Fen scrambles to make rent, her own mom annoyed 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.
Moments of Light and Character Portrayals
There are also touches of humor 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 joy with the world. Ye, who is a left-hander in real life, expertly balances of an young girl absorbing the financial realities and unfamiliar forces – Shu-Fen’s ex, the grandma’s antics, 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 Central Ideas
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 shocking, painful secret about a dear friend. Tsou and Baker’s script sharply examines what it really means to be shamed: which disgraces are honorable, which are indulgent, and what should be passed from one generation to the next?
Some of these revelations are left unresolved 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 neat lesson immediately follows, or that there will be a sinister influence to blame. Instead, perhaps the city just awakens to another day, and, a little lighter (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Release Information: Left-Handed Girl is available in select cinemas on November 14 and on digital services from 28 November.
