[Review] A quiet storm of emotion, Girl (女孩) marks a confident directorial debut for Shu Qi

The transition from a cinematic muse to a director is a path others have walked, but few do so with the candid vulnerability displayed by Shu Qi in her directorial debut, Girl (女孩). Premiering as the opening film of the Singapore International Film Festival, this semi-autobiographical piece is a personal excavation of a 1980s childhood in Taiwan.

It is a work that feels both indebted to her mentor, Hou Hsiao-hsien, and fiercely independent in its feminine perspective. While the film occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own slow pacing and first-time directorial flourishes, it remains a poignant and technically masterful exploration of the scars that define us.

Set in 1988 Keelung, the story centers on Hsiao-lee, played with remarkable restraint by Bai Xiao-ying. She is a withdrawn middle schooler navigating a household defined by the volatile presence of her father, a destructive alcoholic, and the simmering bitterness of her mother, Chuan.

The family dynamic is a suffocating cycle of poverty and abuse, yet Shu Qi chooses to frame these grim realities through a surprisingly lush and atmospheric lens.

Working with cinematographer Yu Jing-pin, the director utilises long, languid takes and a vibrant colour palette that contrasts sharply with the squalor of the family apartment. This aesthetic choice transforms the film into a vivid memoryscape, where the sunlight through school windows and the neon glow of night markets feel as tactile as the humidity of a Taipei summer.

The storytelling is slow, demanding patience as it lingers on scenes of domestic stillness and quiet dread. For some, the pacing might feel indulgent, echoing the deliberate tempo of the Taiwanese New Wave. However, this stillness serves to emphasise the way a child experiences trauma, as a series of moments where one is forced to disappear into the background.

Some of the most relatable and gut-wrenching scenes involve the complex relationship between mother and daughter. In one instance, a public shaming at school highlights the tragic cycle of abuse, where the mother vents her own unresolved wounds onto the only person less protected than she is.

9m88 delivers a raw performance as Chuan, capturing a woman crushed by patriarchy who oscillates between heartbreaking tenderness and sharp cruelty.

Relief arrives in the form of Li-li, a rebellious transfer student played by Lin Pin-tung. Her friendship with Hsiao-lee provides the film with its most liberating sequences, such as a school skipping escapade that leads to a exhilarating scooter ride through the city. These moments of “girlhood” offer a brief glimpse of a wider world, though they also sharpen the despair when the reality of home life returns.

Despite its minor structural flaws and a few clumsy flashback insertions, Girl is a strong debut that refuses easy moralising or sentimental resolutions. The final act, which jumps forward in time, reframes the central trauma not as a tragedy to be solved but as a scar to be acknowledged. It is an original and organic piece of cinema that suggests Shu Qi has successfully found a voice of her own. For fans of art house cinema, the film offers a rewarding, if heavy, journey into the heart of what it means to survive one’s own history.

Get your tickets here via the official SIFF website.