Rarely do elements in any society carry as much absurdity and power as its superstitions. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a endearing five-year-old who has just moved back to Taipei with her mother and older sister. She gets literal firsthand experience when her grandfather warns her for using her left hand for everything – it’s unnatural, he insists; it’s the devil at work, he claims.
As I-Jing stares at her hand with worry, a new bond forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she adjusts to city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, debut solo director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, captures the dynamic vibe and sensory experience of Taipei. Bright red Chinese characters overtake 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 evoke the scent the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, humid city. It’s less a tribute from a fan as it is a devotional to a place known by heart. Tsou pairs the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the complexities of flawed individuals – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a triumph of a film.
Family Dynamics 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 period of reconstruction. Pensive mom Shu-Fen has established a night market noodles stand, and the volatile 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 utterly delightful Nina Ye, begins a new school and, with the curiosity only a child can have, experiments with the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.
As she starts pocketing trinkets at the night market with the forbidden hand, separating 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 obligated to and what she genuinely desires: 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 move forward; 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, skillfully places us onto each family member’s individual worlds, with many shots capturing the frisky and charming 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 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 uniquely hers to feel.
A sense of duty is deftly woven into each conundrum, as well as the isolation 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 earnest to draw with her right hand, when I-Ann lays in bed after being scorned at an ex-classmate’s motel party. Meanwhile, Shu-Fen struggles 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.
Lighter Moments and Performances
There are also touches of humor and playfulness, 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 innocent child absorbing the economic pressures and unknown entities – 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 sharp teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an undeniable but unaffordable emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.
Climactic Scenes and Central Ideas
By the soap opera-like second-to-last dinner scene, the clan has developed big secrets that lead to the ultimate Taiwanese diu lian (losing of face): getting humiliated in front of an audience. And the revelations are powerful – by that point, it’s like discovering a shocking, painful secret about a close companion. Tsou and Baker’s script keenly examines what it really means to be shamed: which disgraces are noble, which are self-serving, and what should be passed from one generation to the next?
Some of these bombs are left unexcavated after the big confrontation, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you dissatisfied – but perhaps also understanding that airing everything doesn’t mean closure 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: Left-Handed Girl is released in select cinemas on November 14 and on streaming platforms from 28 November.
