Left-Handed Girl (2025) Review

I understand why everyone is comparing Shih-Ching Tsou’s feature-length directorial debut to the work of her co-producer/editor/co-writer, Sean Baker: it was shot completely on iPhone cameras, giving it the same kinetic dynamism found in Baker’s indie breakout hit, Tangerine (2015), and Tsou has co-produced many of Baker’s most beloved films like The Florida Project (2017) and Red Rocket (2021). The two also co-directed their first feature length movie while in film school, Take Out (2004). It might even be possible that Baker’s recent success made it slightly easier for this project to find funding after over a decade of trying to bring it to life; but this movie is suffused with a deep warmth that feels singular to its director. Following four generations of working-class women in a single-mother household, each trying to find themselves following a move to Taipei, there’s no doubt about Tsou’s tenderness toward her characters. Now selected as Taiwan’s entry for Best International Feature, this is one of the movies we should all be discussing as award season kicks off.

I so deeply appreciate the subtlety Tsou and co. brought to this script. Viewers are never given a heavy-handed piece of exposition. Instead, the dialogue is very purposeful, never being too overt in its revelations but still doing just enough to help keep us situated. The arcs are all very well-thought out; we always understand what is motivating these characters, which could easily come off as being too accessible, perhaps even leaning into melodrama in some moments, but I think the phenomenal performances keep us grounded around the movie’s emotional core. The very purposeful camerawork also helps Tsou avoid being too ham-fisted.

            I greatly appreciate the composition of cinematographers Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao. Framing Shu-Fen and I-Ann through mirrors and windows, or showing them be swallowed by the neon lights of Taipei’s night markets, establishes a commentary on alienation and modernity similar to the films of another master from Taipei, Edward Yang. Throughout the movie, we constantly see Shu-Fen and her daughters captured by a still camera, sitting at a kitchen table or walking along the glowing streets as they stress about money, rent or medical bills, placing the human condition at the forefront of the film’s emotional focus, filtering it all through a strongly working-class lens. A handheld camera stays low as it follows I-Jing running from stall to stall, giving us glimpses into her childlike perspective, and Baker's editing uses jump-cuts to help create a sense of adventure as she traverses the avenues of her new home. The child’s POV is treated with as much emotional weight as the adults’, and what it ultimately does is (rightfully) illustrate that things like shame and class (sadly) aren’t completely absent from the fantasy worlds of children. Despite it almost certainly being more of a budgetary limitation than anything else, using an iPhone camera speaks to this ethos and calls back to the neorealist proclivities Tsou has shown in her previous work. From the abundance of natural and practical lights to the handheld iPhone camera, it’s clear the director has a strong grasp of the visual language she’s employing, and nothing helps elicit that more than the actors.

Janel Tsai does a phenomenal job as Shu-Fen. Being the single mom of a struggling family, her character seems to be in a kind of exhausted state of depression as she scrambles for money to keep her business and family afloat, absentmindedly minding her daughters as best she can with what little free time she has. Ma Shih-yuan absolutely deserved her Golden Horse Award for Best Newcomer; she was thunderous as I-Ann. Being the eldest daughter in a family that is struggling financially, her character had a lot on her shoulders but did everything she could to shield her little sister from life’s trials and tribulations, and the film is at its best during these tender moments of empathy. She perhaps displays the biggest emotional range, and does so with an organic quality that feels so lived-in. I’d of course be remiss to not mention the great work of Nina Ye, who is remarkable for any actor, let alone one who is under ten years old. As I-Jing, she does a great job of capturing so much emotion in her expression, ultimately becoming one of the gravitational centers in a film that is bursting with heart and humanity.

            I don’t necessarily think that all the subplots introduced are explored in the depth needed to be fully developed, but I do think it all wraps up in a way that doesn’t necessarily gives us closure, but perhaps hints at the distant possibility of a healing process being possible for these characters to overcome their private shames; and that is something more human than most endings in Hollywood can provide. Left-Handed Girl is now streaming on Netflix, and you’re missing out big time if you haven’t watched it yet. I can’t imagine a better debut for such a young director.