Few things in any culture carry as much absurdity and power as its superstitions. This Taiwanese drama introduces us to I-Jing, a endearing five-year-old who has recently relocated back to Taipei with her mother and elder sibling. She gets direct personal experience when her grandfather admonishes her for using her left hand for everything – it’s not natural, he insists; the devil’s influence, he claims.
As I-Jing stares at her limb with concern, a new relationship forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she navigates 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. Bright red Chinese characters cover 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; verdant foliage against aged structures that nearly evoke the scent the specific essence of a vibrant, humid city. It’s not so much a love letter from a fan as it is a dedication to a place known by heart. 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 masterpiece of a film.
Family Dynamics and Personal Struggles
The drama, Taiwan’s entry for best international feature film at the Oscars, starts with I-Jing, her older sister, and her mom in a period of reconstruction. Thoughtful mom Shu-Fen has set up a night market noodles stand, and the volatile 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 very charming Nina Ye, starts a new school and, with the wonder only a child can have, tests out the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.
As she begins stealing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, distinguishing a right hand that does what’s required and the other that entertains what the heart desires, Tsou gracefully reflects each character’s own dualities. Here, the film portrays the complexities 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 reduced 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, skillfully places us onto each family member’s separate planets, with many shots capturing the frisky and delightful 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 shaky and beat abrupt. The camera sweeps above 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 sense of duty is expertly integrated into each conundrum, as well as the isolation that comes with it – it’s at once personal 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 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.
Lighter Moments 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 a left-hander in real life, perfectly walks the tightrope of an young girl absorbing the financial realities 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 thoughtful portrait of an sharp 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 second-to-last dinner scene, the clan has developed big secrets that lead to the ultimate Taiwanese diu lian (losing of face): getting embarrassed in front of an audience. And the disclosures 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 lose face: 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 dissatisfied – but perhaps also understanding that blowing it all up doesn’t mean resolution 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 available in select cinemas on November 14 and on digital services from 28 November.
