Few things in any culture carry as much ridiculousness and potency as its traditional beliefs. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a sweet 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 the devil at work, he claims.
As I-Jing gazes upon her limb with concern, a new relationship forms between her and her so-called devil hand while she adjusts to city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, first-time director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, along with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, evokes the dynamic vibe and sensory experience of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters adorn the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of trash-collecting trucks fills the air; the fluid exchange 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 not so much a love letter from a fan as it is a devotional to a place deeply familiar. Tsou pairs the vivid glimpses of the city with the complexities of flawed individuals – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and delivering a triumph of a film.
Family Relationships and Personal Struggles
The drama, Taiwan’s submission for best foreign language film at the Oscars, begins 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 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, experiments with the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.
As she starts pocketing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, distinguishing a good hand that does what’s required and the other that entertains 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 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 advance; 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 places us onto each family member’s individual worlds, with many shots recording the lively 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 uniquely hers to feel.
A sense of duty is deftly woven 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 lonely journey. We see it when I-Jing tries in sincerity 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 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.
Moments of Light and Character Portrayals
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 joy with the world. Ye, who is left-handed in real life, perfectly walks the tightrope of an innocent child absorbing the economic pressures and unknown entities – Shu-Fen’s ex, the grandma’s antics, I-Ann and Shu-Fen’s bickering – 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.
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 revelations are powerful – by that point, it’s like uncovering a juicy, painful secret about a close companion. Tsou and Baker’s script sharply examines what it really means to lose face: which shames are noble, which are self-serving, 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 dissatisfied – but perhaps also realizing that blowing it all up doesn’t mean closure 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.
- Availability: Left-Handed Girl is released in certain theaters on November 14 and on digital services from 28 November.
