Rarely do elements in any society carry as much absurdity and power 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 older sister. 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 hand with dismay, a new bond forms between her and her so-called devil hand while she navigates city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, debut solo director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, along with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, captures the frenetic energy and sensory experience of Taipei. Bright red Chinese characters overtake the glass windows of a pawn shop; the cheerful tune of trash-collecting trucks fills the air; the fluid exchange of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against aged structures that nearly make you smell the specific essence of a bustling, humid city. It’s less a love letter from a fan as it is a dedication to a place deeply familiar. 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 delivering a triumph of a film.
Family Dynamics and Inner Conflicts
The drama, Taiwan’s submission for best foreign language 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 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 utterly delightful 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 pursues what the heart desires, Tsou gracefully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film portrays the intricacies between what a person feels duty-bound to and what she genuinely desires: Shu-Fen can’t free herself from her trash ex-husband’s debts; I-Ann feels reduced 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.
Cinematic Craft 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 separate planets, with many shots capturing the lively and charming rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re at the same height with I-Jing as she makes her first pilfering, the adrenaline rushing with a camera shaky and beat staccato. 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 feeling of responsibility 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 sincerity 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 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 moments of levity 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 left-handed in real life, expertly balances of an innocent child absorbing the financial realities and unknown entities – Shu-Fen’s ex, the grandma’s hijinks, I-Ann and Shu-Fen’s arguments – 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 Themes
By the soap opera-like 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 be shamed: which disgraces are honorable, which are indulgent, and what should be handed down from one generation to the next?
Some of these bombs are left unexcavated after the big showdown, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you wanting more – but perhaps also understanding that airing everything doesn’t mean closure or a tidy adage immediately follows, or that there will be a sinister influence 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 digital services from November 28.
