With a paradoxical superstition, ‘Left-Handed Girl’ achieves a delicate balance of visual poetry, family dynamics and social realism. “Left is the devil’s hand,” I-Jing’s (Nina Ye) grandfather tells her as she grips her spoon with her left hand at the dinner table.

Notably, this superstition appears to be a simple, insignificant occurrence amid a family rebuilding itself in a new city. With time and repetition, it hardens into a private mythology and ultimately into a psychological alteration for a five-year-old child.

Shih-Ching Tsou, with her solo directorial debut after years of collaboration with Sean Baker on films such as ‘Take Out’, ‘Florida Project’, and ‘Red Rocket’, understands the tenderness and cruelty that arrive tangled together in family, traditions, and love.

Giving enough space and patience for every character to walk through their own emotional arc, the screenwriting of ‘Left-Handed Girl’ is generous and delicate. Tsou and Baker resist the moral shorthand of protagonists and antagonists as the grandfather is never reduced to a villain, and the mother is never elevated to a saint. Within this refusal to simplify anyone lies the film’s emotional honesty.

With the single mother Shu-fen and her two daughters—and I-Jing, the film explores complexities from childhood to adulthood and in-between moments of life while rarely remaining stagnant.

While romping around her mother’s stall at a night market, I-Jing’s beliefs are significantly altered by her grandfather’s words, convincing her that her left hand is indeed a devil. She consequently begins to shoplift with it, making her hand responsible for her wrongdoings.

Shot entirely on an iPhone, the film adopts an intimate visual language alternating between handheld camerawork and composed static shots. The camera frequently trails behind I-Jing, capturing the world from her perspective as she wanders around the crowded night market with childlike curiosity.

Rather than striving for polished perfection, the iPhone cinematography embraces the noise of the city, even through the bright red, blue and green lights.

Shu-Fen (Janel Tsai), a subdued character navigating the market’s corner and her marital disputes, embodies resilience, with everyday labour becoming her portrait of survival. At one moment she is presented as the only refuge for her daughters, and at another, her flawed supervision is overshadowed, relative to I-Jing's and her older sister I-Ann’s upbringing and their

I-Ann (Ma Shih-yuan), despite her intimidating exterior, is burdened by her own struggles. Beneath her guarded demeanour lies a teenager searching for stability and affection. Throughout the scenes, we also learn that I-Ann, now a high school dropout, was once a prominent, inspirational figure at her school, earning top grades.

The performances feel exceptionally natural, making the film’s casting one of its notable strengths. Each actor inhabits their role with ease, particularly the young performers who bring sincerity and authenticity to even the simplest exchanges.

While the opening scenes initially feel rushed, the film gradually settles into a patient rhythm, immersing itself in the family’s everyday routines.

The climax is introduced rather conventionally, as it brings the family’s long-simmering tensions to the surface during a gathering. However, instead of relying on dramatic confrontation alone, Tsou uses the moment to expose each character’s vulnerabilities and grievances.

Bound by duty and emotional complexities, every character is caught between obligation and loneliness. Within this, the director’s trust in the audience is remarkable. Tsou does not spell out every emotion; neither does she let the scenes fall silent and shallow. The depth and delicacy, following the character’s individual struggles, evoke in the viewers the desire to trace the meaning themselves.

I-Jing contradicts her nature—by using her right hand to draw, I-Ann navigates her past, juxtaposed with her trauma- and survival-driven recklessness, and Shu Fen, within socio-economic constraints, tries to become a mother with desires of her own. And each of these character-driven arcs is presented visually, through subtle gestures without the need for overt expressions.

Throughout the film, Tsou presents a poignant exploration of child psychology and the consequences of overlooking a child’s temperament. I-Jing is found constantly questioning her surroundings. Expressions like “Kids do not know any better” and “Do not interrupt while adults are talking” demean her curiosity.

Driven by a longing to be noticed by her mother and sister, she seeks their attention and approval. Whether after getting an award in her class or winning something at the arcade, she eagerly tries to share her joy, which, in every attempt, meets indifference with repeated neglect.

Remnants of patriarchy also loom over the film’s dialogues. When Shu-Fen asks her parents for financial help, her mother remarks, “A married daughter is like water that is poured out,” diminishing her worth in line with traditional expectations that daughters are meant only for their husbands’ families and questioning familial relationships and women’s autonomy.

As Taiwan’s official submission for the 98th Academy Awards for Best International Feature Film, ‘Left-Handed Girl’ is a compassionately crafted portrait of family and identity and a prominent example of craftsmanship and trust in the audience.

Left-Handed Girl

Languages: Mandarin, Taiwanese Hokkien

Year: 2025

Available on: Netflix