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Few things in any society carry as much ridiculousness and power as its superstitions. This Taiwanese drama 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 admonishes 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 hand with concern, a new connection forms between her and her so-called sinister hand while she adjusts to city life. Filmed completely with iPhones, debut solo director and co-writer Shih-Ching Tsou, together with frequent collaborator Sean Baker, summons the frenetic energy and sensory experience of Taipei. Bright red Chinese characters overtake the glass windows of a pawn shop; the cheerful tune of trash-collecting trucks fills the air; the easy ping-pong of Mandarin and Taiwanese between generations; lush trees against aged structures that nearly evoke the scent the unique atmosphere of a vibrant, wetter city. It’s not so much a tribute from a fan as it is a dedication to a place known by heart. Tsou pairs the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the complexities of flawed individuals – poignantly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan, and presenting a triumph of a film.

Family Dynamics and Personal Struggles

The story, Taiwan’s submission for best foreign language film at the Oscars, begins with I-Jing, her older sister, and her mom in a period of reconstruction. Pensive mom Shu-Fen has established a night market noodles stand, and the unpredictable 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 curiosity only a child can have, experiments with the potential of this newly anointed devil hand.

As she begins stealing trinkets at the night market with the cursed limb, distinguishing a right hand that does what’s required and the other that pursues what the heart desires, Tsou gracefully reflects each character’s own internal conflicts. Here, the film delineates the intricacies between what a person feels obligated to and what she genuinely desires: Shu-Fen can’t untangle 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 seen and not heard.

Cinematic Craft and Emotional Depth

Tsou, along with Baker as editor and Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao as cinematographers, skillfully lands us onto each family member’s individual worlds, with many shots capturing 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 unsteady and beat abrupt. The camera pans overhead as I-Ann rides her scooter at night, city lights glistening in the heat, bringing an expansive 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 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 fun, especially with the grandma’s bouts of anger, time with a meerkat that becomes I-Jing’s pet, and I-Jing’s general delight with the world. Ye, who is a left-hander in real life, expertly balances of an innocent child 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 thoughtful portrait of an acerbic teenager dealing with grief, making it feel like an undeniable but prohibitive emotion in an environment where everyone’s just trying to survive.

Final Acts and Central Ideas

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 powerful – by that point, it’s like discovering 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 honorable, which are indulgent, and what should be passed from one generation to the next?

Some of these revelations are left unexcavated after the big showdown, and Left-Handed Girl may leave you wanting more – but perhaps also realizing that airing everything doesn’t mean resolution or a neat lesson immediately follows, or that there will be a devil’s hand 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 14 November and on streaming platforms from November 28.