Few things in any society carry as much ridiculousness and potency 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 direct personal experience when her grandfather warns her for using her left hand for everything – it’s not natural, he insists; it’s the devil at work, he claims.
As I-Jing stares at her limb with concern, a new connection forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she navigates city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, first-time director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, along with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the dynamic vibe and sensory experience of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters overtake the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of trash-collecting trucks fills the air; the easy ping-pong of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; verdant foliage against aged structures that nearly make you smell the unique atmosphere of a bustling, wetter city. It’s less a tribute 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 – movingly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and delivering a masterpiece of a film.
Family Relationships and Personal Struggles
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 in a relationship with her boss. I-Jing, played by the utterly delightful 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 starts pocketing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, separating 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 delineates the intricacies between what a person feels obligated 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 move forward; I-Jing is told to be present but silent.
Cinematic Craft and Emotional Resonance
Tsou, along with Baker as editor and Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao as cinematographers, expertly lands us onto each family member’s separate planets, with many shots recording 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 unsteady and beat staccato. The camera pans overhead as I-Ann rides her scooter at night, city lights glistening in the heat, bringing an expansive feeling of freedom with a pain that’s uniquely hers 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 intimate and saddening to see how duty is often a solitary experience. 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 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.
Lighter Moments and Performances
There are also moments of levity and playfulness, 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, perfectly balances of an young girl absorbing the economic pressures and unfamiliar forces – 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 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 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 uncovering a juicy, painful secret about a close companion. Tsou and Baker’s script keenly examines what it really means to be shamed: which disgraces are noble, which are indulgent, 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 wanting more – but perhaps also understanding that blowing it all up doesn’t mean resolution 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 freer (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Release Information: Left-Handed Girl is released in select cinemas on November 14 and on digital services from November 28.
