Left-Handed Girl Review – Impressive Taiwanese Family Story is a True Wonder

Few things in any culture carry as much ridiculousness and power 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 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 gazes upon her limb with dismay, a new connection forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she navigates city life. Shot entirely with iPhones, first-time director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, captures the dynamic vibe and sensory experience of Taipei. Vibrant crimson Chinese characters cover 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 grimy buildings that nearly evoke the scent the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, humid city. It’s less a tribute from a fan as it is a dedication to a place known by heart. Tsou combines the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the complexities of imperfect people – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a triumph of a film.

Family Dynamics 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 rebuild stage. Pensive mom Shu-Fen has set up a night market noodles stand, and the unpredictable I-Ann has left high school and works at a betel nut stall, where she’s sleeping with her boss. I-Jing, played by the utterly delightful Nina Ye, begins a new school and, with the curiosity 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 right hand that does what’s required and the other that entertains what the heart desires, Tsou gracefully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film delineates the complexities between what a person feels duty-bound to and what she truly wants: 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 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 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 adrenaline rushing 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 expansive feeling of freedom with a pain that’s uniquely hers to feel.

A sense of duty is expertly integrated into each conundrum, as well as the isolation that comes with it – it’s at once personal and heartbreaking 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 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 joy with the world. Ye, who is a left-hander in real life, expertly balances of an young girl 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 thoughtful portrait of an sharp teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an undeniable but unaffordable emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.

Final Acts and Themes

By the dramatic penultimate dinner scene, the clan has nurtured 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 close companion. Tsou and Baker’s script keenly examines what it really means to be shamed: which shames are honorable, 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 showdown, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you wanting more – but perhaps also understanding that blowing it all up doesn’t mean closure or a tidy adage immediately follows, or that there will be a sinister influence to blame. Instead, perhaps the city just awakens to another day, and, a little freer (having lost a little face), so do you.

• Availability: Left-Handed Girl is available in certain theaters on November 14 and on streaming platforms from November 28.