Turn Left Turn Right

In a bustling city of tightly packed apartments, two lives unfold on opposite sides of a thin brick wall that separates their homes. The building’s narrow corridors and the constant hum of traffic create a backdrop where chance seems to linger just out of reach, turning everyday routines into a quiet dance of proximity and mystery. The atmosphere is both intimate and expansive, inviting the audience to feel the subtle tension of unseen connections that pulse through the streets and stairways.

John Liu is a violinist who drifts from gig to gig, his music echoing through the cramped rooms of the city as he balances the demands of his art with the practicalities of survival. He moves with a restless energy, navigating a world where each performance is a fleeting escape and every corner of the neighborhood holds both promise and uncertainty. Across the wall, Eve Choi translates foreign literature into Chinese, her days spent decoding words while the quiet of her apartment is occasionally broken by the eerie shadows of imagination. Her work, a blend of precision and creativity, mirrors the rhythm of the city itself, where the ordinary and the uncanny coexist.

Both characters share an unspoken rhythm of avoidance—one hesitates to turn left, the other to turn right—each small quirk hinting at deeper anxieties that shape their daily choices. Their parallel existences are punctuated by the occasional glimmer of what could be, a sense that a simple glance or a shared moment might bridge the thin barrier that separates them. The film’s tone stays gentle yet probing, inviting viewers to linger on the possibilities that lie just beyond the wall, while the soundtrack of urban sounds and subtle melodies underscores the delicate balance between solitude and the longing for connection.

Last Updated: September 24, 2025 at 04:56