Rarely do elements in any culture carry as much absurdity and potency as its traditional beliefs. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a sweet five-year-old who has recently relocated back to Taipei with her mother and older sister. She gets direct personal 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 appendage with dismay, a new bond forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she adjusts to city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, first-time director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the frenetic energy and sensory immersion of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters adorn the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of trash-collecting trucks fills the air; the easy ping-pong of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against aged structures that nearly make you smell the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s less a tribute from a fan as it is a dedication to a place known by heart. Tsou combines the vivid glimpses of the city with the complexities of imperfect people – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a triumph of a film.
Family Relationships and Inner Conflicts
The drama, Taiwan’s entry for best international feature film at the Oscars, starts 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 volatile I-Ann has left high school and works at a betel nut stall, where she’s in a relationship with her boss. I-Jing, played by the utterly delightful 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 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 delineates the complexities between what a person feels obligated to and what she truly wants: Shu-Fen can’t free herself from her former husband’s debts; I-Ann feels reduced to the role her mom wants her to play as she watches her peers advance; I-Jing is told to be seen and not heard.
Visual Storytelling and Emotional Depth
Tsou, along with Baker as editor and Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao as cinematographers, skillfully lands us onto each family member’s separate planets, with many shots recording the lively and delightful rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re at the same height with I-Jing as she makes her first pilfering, the excitement building with a camera unsteady and beat abrupt. The camera sweeps above as I-Ann rides her scooter at night, city lights shimmering in the heat, bringing an expansive feeling of freedom with a pain that’s uniquely hers to feel.
A feeling of responsibility is expertly integrated into each dilemma, as well as the loneliness that comes with it – it’s at once personal and heartbreaking 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 Performances
There are also touches of humor and fun, especially with the grandma’s bouts of anger, time with a meerkat that becomes I-Jing’s pet, and I-Jing’s general joy with the world. Ye, who is left-handed in real life, expertly walks the tightrope of an young girl absorbing the economic pressures and unknown entities – 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 prohibitive emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.
Final Acts and Central Ideas
By the dramatic second-to-last dinner scene, the clan has nurtured big secrets that lead to the ultimate Taiwanese diu lian (losing of face): getting embarrassed in front of an audience. And the revelations are powerful – by that point, it’s like discovering a shocking, painful secret about a dear friend. Tsou and Baker’s script keenly examines what it really means to be shamed: which shames are noble, which are indulgent, and what should be handed down from one generation to the next?
Some of these revelations are left unresolved after the big confrontation, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you dissatisfied – but perhaps also understanding that airing everything doesn’t mean resolution or a neat lesson immediately follows, or that there will be a devil’s hand to blame. Instead, perhaps the city just awakens to another day, and, a little freer (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Release Information: The film is available in certain theaters on November 14 and on streaming platforms from 28 November.
