Rarely do elements in any society carry as much absurdity and power as its traditional beliefs. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a endearing five-year-old who has recently relocated 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 evil, 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 explores city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, first-time director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, captures the frenetic energy and sensory experience of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters overtake the glass windows of a pawn shop; the cheerful tune of garbage trucks fills the air; the fluid exchange of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; lush trees against grimy buildings that nearly evoke the scent the specific essence of a bustling, wetter city. It’s not so much a love letter from a fan as it is a dedication to a place known by heart. Tsou pairs the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the complexities of flawed individuals – movingly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and delivering a triumph of a film.
Family Dynamics and Personal Struggles
The story, Taiwan’s submission for best international feature film at the Oscars, begins with I-Jing, her older sister, and her mom in a period of reconstruction. Thoughtful mom Shu-Fen has established a night market noodles stand, and the unpredictable I-Ann has dropped out 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, experiments with the potential of this newly labeled devil hand.
As she begins stealing 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 delineates 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 move forward; I-Jing is told to be seen and not heard.
Cinematic Craft 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 separate planets, 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 pans overhead as I-Ann rides her scooter at night, city lights glistening in the heat, bringing an expansive feeling of freedom with a pain that’s uniquely hers to feel.
A sense of duty is deftly woven into each dilemma, as well as the loneliness that comes with it – it’s at once intimate and saddening to see how duty is often a lonely journey. We see it when I-Jing tries in earnest 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.
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 delight with the world. Ye, who is left-handed in real life, perfectly walks the tightrope 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 arguments – 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 Themes
By the dramatic penultimate 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 disclosures 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 self-serving, 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 wanting more – but perhaps also realizing that blowing it all up 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 awakens to another day, and, a little freer (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Availability: Left-Handed Girl is released in select cinemas on November 14 and on digital services from 28 November.
