There is Shu-Fen, who has moved her daughters back to Taipei to set up a noodle stand in a bustling night market after a prolonged seeming exile in the countryside. With her is I-Ann, a knife-eyed, defiant 20-something who searches for a sense of worth after missing out on college. Finally, there is I-Jing, the youngest, who experiences Taipei in two paradoxical settings: the dizzying, thriving neon of the night market and the stultifying fluorescent lights of her grandparents’ apartment.

In the opening scene of Shih-Ching Tsou’s Left-Handed Girl, 5-year-old I-Jing lifts a kaleidoscope to her eye. The car’s interior, the highway rushing by, and the shimmer of Taipei on the horizon become refracted with her mother and sister in gold, blue, and green. From the outset to its closing scene, the film—which is Taiwan’s submission for the 2026 Academy Awards and is now streaming on Netflix—invites us to consider what is passed down, warped, and shared across three generations of Taiwanese women.

In the opening scene of Shih-Ching Tsou’s Left-Handed Girl, 5-year-old I-Jing lifts a kaleidoscope to her eye. The car’s interior, the highway rushing by, and the shimmer of Taipei on the horizon become refracted with her mother and sister in gold, blue, and green. From the outset to its closing scene, the film—which is Taiwan’s submission for the 2026 Academy Awards and is now streaming on Netflix—invites us to consider what is passed down, warped, and shared across three generations of Taiwanes

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