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Left-Handed Girl

Farhad Dalal Founder
By-
Farhad Dalal
Rating
4 Star popcorn reviewss

Introduction

The metaphor with regards to the title of the film Left-Handed Girl, Taiwan’s Official Submission to the Oscars of 2026, can be interpreted in many ways. In the traditional archaic way, it stands for devil’s hand, something that the little girl I-Jung (Nina Ye) experiences in the film. But deep down its layers, the same concept can be extended to a gender-bias – something that equates to the suppression of women and the rights that they hold, a family bias wherein some members of the family are treated like black sheep of the family, or even a searing account of the financial instability of folks from across the globe who have to take up meanial jobs to fend for themselves, day in and day out. Each of these biases form a resounding fabric of the film even as you witness the drama unfold through the gaze of an eight year old. When I-Jung returns to Taipei with her mother Shu-Fen (Janel Tsai) and elder sister I-Ann (Shih-Yuan Ma), her faded innocence remains the last of her traits of being a child. She may not fully grasp the conversations of adults around her, but she is well aware of the financial crisis that her family is undergoing, prompting her mother to take up a menial job of a noodle store in a vibrant street of Taipei, or her sister who would later go onto work at a Betel Nut Store. Life isn’t easy for I-Jung, but ironically the people around her play a part in fiddling with her morality too.

Story & Screenplay

Written by Shih-Ching Tsou and Sean Baker, the incredible team behind works like The Florida Project and Tangerine, the universal nature of the Left-Handed Girl can be determined from the setting of the city of Taipei that may seem glittery and dreamy from the onset, while being harsh and demanding in its underbelly. In that regard, it remains similar to the city of Mumbai that does its bit in selling you a billion dreams, only for people to realise that the reality is far stranger than fiction. For Shu-Fen, it remains a financial crisis that makes her take upon a noodle cart on the streets on a whopping rent that she may or may not be able to afford, even while having to discontinue her elder daughter’s tryst with the university. And by doing so, even her younger daughter’s future remains in the dark.

The characterization in the drama remains a crucial selling point in determining the financial crisis of the state. Every character is undergoing a hustle – be it Shu-Fen with her Noodle cart, I-Ann, the rebellious teen who takes up an odd job at a betel nut store wherein she is forced to wear skimpy dresses to lure her customers while also sharing a steamy affair with her boss A-Ming (Hsia Teng Hung) for money. Even Shu-Fen’s mother Xue-Mei (Xin-Yan Chao) is involved in a loop of illegal immigration in exchange for a quick buck to survive. Hence when Shu-Fen asks her mother for some money, she frowns – even more when she learns of Shu-Fen chooses to fund the funeral of her ex-husband despite the lack of funds on her part. It is the dual life that Shu-Fen lives – one of poverty and the other of resilience, both of which remain her unsaid kids by her side.

There is a searing commentary on a gender-bias that forms an important cog in the narrative. For Xue-Mei – it is about funding the business of her only son while also transferring her ancestral property to him, and in turn paying no attention to her daughters who actually need the money for survival. Likewise, I-Ann is kept in the dark about her boss’ wife whom he claims he has divorced, whereas the reality is far different from his statement. And hence, her pregnancy also turns out to be an unceremonious event in her life, something that even A-Ming’s wife wishes to claim her inheritance on. For the little I-Jung though, it is about her grandpa claiming that her left-hand is that of a devil, a common archaic tradition to discourage people from writing with their left-hand – something that skews her morality.

Given the financial crisis, you see I-Jung snitching and shoplifting items that she likes on the pretext that the devil inside her makes her do it. It comes from a flawed psychological barrier of a child that is fed with varied thoughts of morality, so much so that the basic principles of right and wrong are blurred. Her part realisation kicks in only when her favourite pet gets killed off in an accident, something that prompts her to chop off her left hand, or cover it in a piece of cloth to avert any further disasters. Luckily, it is the matured head of I-Ann who identifies it and course corrects it, even as all other adults around her are either busy bickering or involved in their own financial hustles. Think of Anurag Kashyap’s Ugly (2014) and how the adults of that world were too busy consumed in their personal interests that after a point, no one really cared about the missing child.

The final act here can be perceived as melodramatic as well as twisted, given the revelations that transpire at a birthday party, or more specifically at a dinner table. It represents the emotional burden being carried around by all the characters, just to safeguard the interests of the family. Every character is dealing with their own issues that could easily be termed as a trauma being passed down to generations, in the wake of the economic crisis in the country. And add to that, the patriarchal setup doesn’t help their causes either. But there is something about women and how they perceive the world around them – the grace here is exhibited when the three protagonists choose to embrace the revelations and start afresh the next day, a symbol of hope that overshadows seeds of trust and despair. Afterall for Shu-Fen, I-Ann and I-Jung, it is about sticking together through thick and thin, just what family members do in times of a crisis.

Dialogues, Music & Direction

The dialogues are deftly poignant and effective in lacing the narrative with an understated layer of pathos, wherein the lines represent the rawness of the emotions beautifully. The BGM uses moments of silence to represent the unsaid emotions in the narrative, that might seem understated to begin with but hit you like a brick at various points in the narrative. The cinematography remains one of the highlights of the film, from using kaleidoscope to convey the glitters of the city, something that distinguishes the reality from fiction, to keeping the camera at low angles and on the level of I-Jung. As a result (and from I-Jung’s perspective), the city of Taipei is overwhelming and huge, while exhibiting an emotional core that essentially forms the fabric of the drama. The editing pattern did feel a little scattered to begin with, but slowly it found me emotionally investing in the lives of the characters. Director Shih-Ching Tsou does an incredible job in examining the flawed lives and personalities of her characters through some incredible tropes of characterization and world building that accurately exhibits the emotional core of the drama. She remains content with following her characters, particularly her little protagonist in a tale exploring moralities coupled with survival. And by doing so, you empathize with all the characters in a state of acceptance despite moments of skewed moralities, even as the director maintains a firm grip on the proceedings.

Performances

The performances are wonderful by the members of the cast. Hsia Teng Hing as A-Ming exhibits the greyness of his character rather accurately while putting forth a commendable act. Xin-Yan Chao as Xue-Mei remains a flawed character given her gender bias towards her children, and the activities that she chooses for her survival mechanism. And she does a solid job here. Akio Chen as Wen-Xong is understated and an accurate representation of patriarchy here. Brando Huang as Johnny is quietly charming and caring while balancing out the patriarchal representation in the drama.

Janel Tsai as Shu-Fen is a character riddled with responsibilities and pathos, something that makes you empathize with her journey. She is wonderful to witness here in a subtly towering act. Shih Yuan Ma as I-Ann has a phenomenal screen-presence while being a layered character having to sacrifice her student life because of the financial instability of her family. That justifies her rebellious streak too, even while continuing to have a high moral ground for people around her. This was a complex character and Ma manages to essay it brilliantly. Nina Ye as I-Jung exhibits a flair of innocence, possibly her last resolve of her age, while trying to navigate life that is increasingly complex for her morally (and financially) speaking. The affable nature of her character cuts through her morally skewed spectrum, wherein she does a wonderful job. In another world, Shu-Fen, I-Ann and I-Jung maybe the same person at different timelines in a city that demands survival. And the connective tissue of each of these characters remains the caring nature that they have for each other at the end.

Conclusion

Taiwan’s Official Submission to the Oscars of 2025, Left-Handed Girl is an aching examination of understated pathos featuring solid performances that make this drama a beautifully poignant watch. Available on Netflix and Highly Recommended!

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