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Rarely do elements in any society carry as much ridiculousness and power as its superstitions. Left-Handed Girl introduces us to I-Jing, a endearing five-year-old who has just moved back to Taipei with her mother and elder sibling. She gets literal firsthand experience when her grandfather scolds her for using her left hand for everything – it’s unnatural, he insists; it’s evil, he claims.

As I-Jing gazes upon her appendage with concern, a new bond forms between her and her so-called cursed hand while she navigates city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, debut solo director and screenwriter Shih-Ching Tsou, along with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the dynamic vibe and sensory immersion of Taipei. Bright red Chinese characters adorn 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 make you smell the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s not so much a love letter from a fan as it is a dedication to a place deeply familiar. Tsou pairs the vivid glimpses of the city with the complexities of imperfect people – tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and delivering a triumph of a film.

Family Dynamics and Inner Conflicts

The story, 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 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, begins a new school and, with the wonder only a child can have, tests out the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.

As she begins stealing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, separating a good hand that does what’s required and the other that pursues what the heart desires, Tsou skillfully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film delineates the intricacies between what a person feels obligated to and what she truly wants: Shu-Fen can’t free 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.

Visual Storytelling 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 individual worlds, with many shots capturing the lively and delightful rhythms of daily Taipei life. We’re eye-level with I-Jing as she makes her first pilfering, the adrenaline rushing with a camera unsteady and beat abrupt. The camera pans overhead as I-Ann rides her scooter at night, city lights glistening 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 solitary experience. 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 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.

Lighter Moments and Performances

There are also touches of humor 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 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 bickering – that surround her. Ma’s I-Ann, too, is a considered portrait of an sharp teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an inescapable but unaffordable emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.

Climactic Scenes and Central Ideas

By the dramatic penultimate 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 dear friend. Tsou and Baker’s script sharply examines what it really means to be shamed: which disgraces are honorable, which are self-serving, and what should be handed down from one generation to the next?

Some of these revelations are left unresolved 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 neat lesson 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 released in select cinemas on November 14 and on streaming platforms from 28 November.