Rarely do elements in any society carry as much ridiculousness and power as its traditional beliefs. This Taiwanese drama 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; the devil’s influence, he claims.
As I-Jing gazes upon her hand with worry, a new bond forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she explores city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, debut solo director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, along with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the dynamic vibe 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 fluid exchange of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against aged structures that nearly evoke the scent the specific essence of a vibrant, humid city. It’s less a tribute from a fan as it is a devotional to a place deeply familiar. Tsou pairs 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 triumph of a film.
Family Dynamics and Inner Conflicts
The drama, Taiwan’s submission for best international feature film at the Oscars, starts 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 unpredictable I-Ann has dropped out 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 wonder 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 required and the other that entertains what the heart desires, Tsou skillfully reflects each character’s own dualities. Here, the film portrays the intricacies between what a person feels duty-bound 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 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, 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 theft, the excitement building with a camera unsteady 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 lonely journey. 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 irritated 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 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 delight with the world. Ye, who is left-handed in real life, expertly walks the tightrope of an young girl absorbing the financial realities 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 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 close companion. Tsou and Baker’s script keenly examines what it really means to lose face: 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 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 wakes up to another day, and, a little lighter (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Availability: The film is released in certain theaters on 14 November and on streaming platforms from November 28.
