Rarely do elements in any society carry as much ridiculousness 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 the devil at work, he claims.
As I-Jing stares at her limb with worry, a new connection 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, evokes the dynamic vibe and sensory experience of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters adorn the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of garbage trucks fills the air; the fluid exchange of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against aged structures that nearly evoke the scent the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s less a love letter from a fan as it is a devotional to a place known by heart. Tsou combines the vivid glimpses of the city with the complexities of imperfect people – poignantly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and delivering a masterpiece of a film.
Family Dynamics and Inner Conflicts
The drama, Taiwan’s entry for best international feature 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, starts a new school and, with the wonder only a child can have, tests out the potential of this newly labeled devil hand.
As she begins stealing trinkets at the night market with the forbidden hand, distinguishing a right hand that does what’s required and the other that pursues what the heart desires, Tsou gracefully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film portrays the complexities between what a person feels duty-bound to and what she truly wants: Shu-Fen can’t untangle herself from her former 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.
Cinematic Craft and Emotional Depth
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 recording the frisky and charming rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re eye-level with I-Jing as she makes her first pilfering, the excitement building 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 feeling of responsibility is expertly integrated into each conundrum, as well as the loneliness that comes with it – it’s at once personal and saddening 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 rests in bed after being mocked 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.
Moments of Light and Performances
There are also moments of levity 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 delight with the world. Ye, who is a left-hander in real life, perfectly 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 arguments – that surround her. Ma’s I-Ann, too, is a considered portrait of an sharp teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an inescapable but prohibitive emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.
Final Acts and Central Ideas
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 good – 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 lose face: 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 unresolved after the big confrontation, 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 devil’s hand to blame. Instead, perhaps the city just wakes up to another day, and, a little lighter (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Availability: Left-Handed Girl is available in select cinemas on November 14 and on streaming platforms from November 28.
