Rarely do elements in any society carry as much ridiculousness and potency 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 elder sibling. She gets literal firsthand 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 hand with worry, a new connection forms between her and her so-called sinister hand while she navigates city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, debut solo director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, evokes the frenetic energy and sensory experience of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters overtake the glass windows of a pawn shop; the cheerful tune of garbage trucks fills the air; the easy ping-pong of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; lush trees against aged structures that nearly evoke the scent the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s not so much a tribute 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 – movingly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a masterpiece of a film.
Family Relationships and Inner Conflicts
The story, 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 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, 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 forbidden hand, separating a right hand that does what’s expected and the other that entertains what the heart desires, Tsou skillfully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film portrays the intricacies between what a person feels duty-bound to and what she genuinely desires: Shu-Fen can’t free 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 advance; I-Jing is told to be seen and not heard.
Visual Storytelling and Emotional Resonance
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 eye-level with I-Jing as she makes her first pilfering, the excitement building with a camera shaky 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 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 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 rests in bed after being scorned 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.
Lighter Moments and Character Portrayals
There are also touches of humor and playfulness, 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, perfectly 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 acerbic teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an inescapable but unaffordable emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.
Final Acts and Central Ideas
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 revelations are good – 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 disgraces are noble, which are self-serving, and what should be handed down 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 understanding that airing everything doesn’t mean closure or a neat lesson 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 freer (having lost a little face), so do you.
- Availability: The film is available in select cinemas on 14 November and on streaming platforms from 28 November.
