Few things in any culture carry as much ridiculousness and potency as its superstitions. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a sweet five-year-old who has recently relocated back to Taipei with her mother and elder sibling. She gets literal firsthand experience when her grandfather scolds her for using her left hand for everything – it’s unnatural, he insists; it’s evil, he claims.
As I-Jing gazes upon her appendage with dismay, a new relationship forms between her and her so-called sinister hand while she adjusts to city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, first-time director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, evokes the dynamic vibe and sensory experience of Taipei. Bright red Chinese characters cover the glass windows of a pawn shop; the cheerful tune of trash-collecting 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 vibrant, humid city. It’s not so much a tribute from a fan as it is a devotional to a place known by heart. 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 masterpiece of a film.
Family Dynamics and Personal Struggles
The drama, Taiwan’s entry 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 volatile 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, begins a new school and, with the curiosity only a child can have, tests out the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.
As she starts pocketing trinkets at the night market with the forbidden hand, separating a good 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 intricacies between what a person feels obligated 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 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 capturing the lively 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 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 deftly woven into each dilemma, as well as the isolation that comes with it – it’s at once intimate 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 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.
Lighter Moments and Character Portrayals
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 walks the tightrope of an innocent child absorbing the financial realities and unknown entities – Shu-Fen’s ex, the grandma’s hijinks, I-Ann and Shu-Fen’s arguments – that surround her. Ma’s I-Ann, too, is a considered 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.
Climactic Scenes and Themes
By the soap opera-like second-to-last 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 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 shames are honorable, which are indulgent, and what should be handed down from one generation to the next?
Some of these bombs are left unexcavated after the big confrontation, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you wanting more – 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 awakens to another day, and, a little lighter (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Availability: Left-Handed Girl is released in select cinemas on November 14 and on streaming platforms from 28 November.
