Rarely do elements in any society carry as much ridiculousness and power as its superstitions. This Taiwanese drama introduces us to I-Jing, a endearing five-year-old who has just moved back to Taipei with her mother and older sister. She gets direct personal 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 examines her appendage with dismay, a new relationship forms between her and her so-called devil hand while she navigates city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, first-time director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the dynamic vibe and sensory immersion of Taipei. Bright red 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 aged structures that nearly make you smell the specific essence of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s less a tribute from a fan as it is a dedication to a place deeply familiar. Tsou pairs the vivid glimpses of the city with the splinters of imperfect people – movingly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a masterpiece of a film.
Family Relationships and Personal Struggles
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 established a night market noodles stand, and the unpredictable I-Ann has left high school 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 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 forbidden hand, separating a right hand that does what’s expected and the other that pursues what the heart desires, Tsou skillfully reflects each character’s own dualities. 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 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.
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 individual worlds, with many shots capturing the frisky and charming rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re at the same height 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 hers alone to feel.
A feeling of responsibility is expertly integrated into each dilemma, as well as the loneliness 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 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 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 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, expertly walks the tightrope of an innocent child absorbing the economic pressures 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 sharp teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an inescapable but prohibitive emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.
Climactic Scenes 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 embarrassed in front of an audience. And the disclosures are good – by that point, it’s like uncovering 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 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 dissatisfied – but perhaps also realizing that blowing it all up doesn’t mean closure or a neat lesson 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 freer (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Release Information: Left-Handed Girl is released in select cinemas on 14 November and on streaming platforms from November 28.
