Back in 2004, the director Shih-Ching Tsou linked up with her friend and collaborator—a young Sean Baker—to make a movie together. It was called Take Out, and followed the life of an undocumented Chinese immigrant working as a takeaway deliveryman in New York City. It was her first stab at directing, and Baker’s second—and while he went on to become the reigning king of American independent film (Anora, The Florida Project, Tangerine), Tsou played a quieter role in his career, producing the majority of his stepping-stone films before Oscar success arrived.
Now, Baker has returned the favor. In Tsou’s solo directorial debut Left-Handed Girl—a charming, vividly colored portrait of family in Taipei—Baker acts as a producer, co-writer, and editor. It’s easy to see why the pair have clicked creatively over the past 20+ years: while the film feels distinctive in how it captures its setting and its characters, Baker’s chaotic, charged spirit is in it, too.
After several years in the countryside, a mother and her two daughters—one too old to want her mother’s attention, the other young, fizzy, and a secret kleptomaniac—return to Taipei, years after fleeing when their father ran off. Struggling to make ends meet, they open a small bolthole restaurant in a night market, slipping into the city’s busy and oppressive energy.
The mother Shu-Fen, commands the kitchen, while I-Ann, the elder daughter, splits time between there and at the local tobacco spot, secretly selling betel nuts (a classified drug in Taiwan), where she flirts and fucks the sleazy owner. Every so often, we’ll get input from Shu-Fen’s mother—the girl’s grandmother—who’s making a quick buck through illegal trade. All the while, I-Jing watches the world go by, going on solo adventures, eavesdropping on arguments, and playing with GooGoo, a pet meerkat who delivers much of the film’s sweet comic relief—until her grandfather notes that she eats with her left hand, forcing her to believe she’s possessed by the devil.
Everyone seems to have something clawed to their back that they’re trying to shake off. If that sounds like a buzzkill, think again: Left-Handed Girl is enthralling and zippy, slaloming through city life like a moped in traffic.
Among the zest of neon lights, Tsou creates a deep sympathy for these women while also giving us permission to laugh—sometimes—at their misfortune. It plays out with the same kind of sticky, gossipy energy found in Baker’s best work: think any blow-up from Tangerine, or the way innocence guards despair in The Florida Project.
There’s a few images I keep thinking about: I-Jing, resting her mirrored face on the counter of a pawn shop; the way I-Ann’s hair sits in the lurid glow of a club light, as an old friend recounts the version of her they remember—as opposed to who she’s become. Resourcefully made (shot entirely on iPhone), Tsou’s film is the right kind of neorealist cinema: grounded in its people, knowing them, and understanding that even in life’s miseries, there’s always something bittersweet to laugh at.
‘Left Handed Girl’ premiered in Critics’ Week at the Cannes Film Festival 2025